Author's Note: Ummm... I'm sorry? Though this chapter has been written for a while now, I've had yet to post it, consumed with that all too familiar feeling that it's unfinished. Add to that, my as yet undiagnosed neuro-spicy brain had decided that I was no longer interested in writing for a long while. Hopefully, that will be rectified (or at least I'll get something to help) post-haste. Please, forgive me, dear readers, exasperated as you may be and enjoy this newest addition to the ranks. Much love!

Chapter 3

Frár was exuberant to be released from the confines of Sifrïda's chambers. Though well trained, he was a wild thing at heart and longed to be outside in the pastures, free to bound through the grass as he watched over the sheep. He was much like Sifrïda, herself. So when his mistress called for him to follow her and Éowyn out of doors for a tour of the grounds, he could barely restrain himself. As they walked slowly down the steps leading from the Hall to the main road, he routinely ran ahead to explore, then came bounding back to Sifrïda's side with his happy, panting grin. He provided welcome entertainment for the two woman trailing in his wake.

Éowyn proved to be an excellent and sensitive guide. She brought Sifrïda's attention first to the fields south of the Hall where she could see many flocks grazing on the tall grass, watched over by their shepherds atop tall horses. It put her mind at ease for the safety of her own sheep before they moved further down the steps toward the stables. The wooden walls and thatched roofs of the cottages surrounding the Hall were a comfort to Sifrïda - they reminded her of home and made her feel less out of place. As she expected, however, the horses housed in the walls of Edoras were cared for nearly better than the men and women that worked them. Éowyn led the way inside the stables, nodding and exchanging pleasantries with the stable hands as they passed. The scent of hay and horse was strong, but familiar and not unpleasant. Frár, not one to be left behind, took one sniff with his nose high in the air and was off again, heading straight toward a stall near the far door of the building. As he neared, a large dark head appeared over the door and Sifrïda could not help but smile in relief as her animals greeted each other.

"Drȳgja," she called, her arms outstretched to embrace the mare, wrapping them loosely around her neck and pressing her face into her soft hair. Drȳgja nuzzled into her back, accepting her mistress's affection with long learned patience. Sifrïda pulled away and looked into the mare's eyes, assuring herself of her well-being before looking back toward Éowyn who was waiting with a smile. "Do you have a mount, my lady? Few things are as special as earning a horse's love, I've found."

"Yes, I quite agree," the lady responded as she neared, reaching to pat the dark horse's nose. "My mare is called Windfola, she is housed with my brother's stallion, Firefoot, in the King's stable, along with my uncle and cousin's mounts, Snowmane and Brego."

"Are you close with your brother and Prince Théodred, my lady?" Sifrïda leaned once more against her mare's neck, her strength waning the longer she stood.

"Come, I shall tell you while we make our return to the Hall, so you can rest awhile. Strength is easily lost and hard to regain," she said, taking Sifrïda's hands in her own and pulling her upright, then threading their arms together to beginning the trek back up the hill. Frár let out a whine, knowing Drȳgja was not to follow, but trotted along behind the young women in spite of his disappointment. "I've told you that I was only eight years old when my brother and I were orphaned. My uncle took us in as his own children and our cousin followed suit. He, my brother and I have behaved as siblings ever since, though we had always been close."

Their steps were slow and measured to accommodate Sifrïda's weakened state, even so, about halfway up the hill to the doors of the hall her legs shook and she was unsure whether she would be able to make it the rest of the way without a rest. Éowyn felt the shift in her gait and slowed further, guiding her to the edge of the stone staircase and aiding her down to lean against the sidewall.

"Thank you," Sifrïda's voice was soft from breathlessness, but she smiled up at her new friend anyway, not one to let hardship bring down her good mood. She'd been weak from sickness before, she knew she'd need time to recover. Éowyn lowered herself down beside her as well, tilting her head back against the stone to look up at the clear blue sky with a slight smile on her face.

"More oft than not these days, I spend my time indoors to care for my uncle and to tend to my duties as lady of the house. At times it's easy to forget how beautiful the sky can be, or how comforting the sun feels on one's face. The reminder is a gift, as is the chance to enjoy it," her face was relaxed and she closed her eyes at the feel of the cool breeze. Sifrïda did the same, enjoying the sun's rays as she caught her breath, opening them again when the lady continued. "You look like you could do with a rest, my friend."

"I will admit I'm rather tired, but I would hate to waste the day away like that," she frowned slightly at the thought. She was enjoying getting to know the Lady and was curious about the way she spent her days. "Perhaps there's something I could assist you with that may not be too taxing?"

Éowyn laughed and shook her head with familiar affection and exasperation.

"You sound much like my brother when he's grown restless within the walls. Here, let us finish our journey and see if there's something we can't whip up to keep you busy."

They grinned at each other and stood, linking their arms once more. As they continued on, they talked of their lives, telling each other stories of their escapades as children and laughing together merrily. When they reached the open doors to the hall, however, Éowyn's smile faded like a sunset, the corners of her mouth turning down and a line forming between her brows. Inside the hall, upon the dais sat the king, looking haggard and drawn and nothing like the way Sifrïda had imagined him from the tales her father would tell her as a child. Her eyes traveled between the king and his niece, noting the worry in the lady's face and how quiet the hall had become from that morning. To his right, sat a man all in black - Sifrïda disliked the look of him immediately. Everything about the man set her on edge, all but his eyes were shrouded in darkness. And though they were light, nearly white in their paleness, his eyes were what unnerved her the most. They seemed to be filled with a covetous and deceitful light, and darted around the hall like a starving man placed in front of a feast, not sure what to devour first.

"My lady... who is that man to the right of Théoden King? He does not look to be from the Mark," Sifrïda kept her voice soft and leaned near to the lady's ear to speak. She felt in her bones that Éowyn did not trust this man, she was tense, drawn and silent beside her - a sharp contrast to the radiance of before.

"That... that is Gríma, my uncle's chief counsellor," she replied in a voice just as soft, barely moving her lips. It was obvious she did not want to be overheard. "Come, let us retire to my chambers for now, we can speak freely there."

Sifrïda followed where the Lady led, obediently keeping her mouth shut, keeping her eyes and ears open instead.