Because of the late night and her tossing and turning from thinking of loving Éomer, Rowan didn't rise as early as she usually did. Or, well, had to. Not being on the road meant she could sleep in some. And she felt no guilt doing so either.

When she finally rose, bathed, and dressed, Rowan headed for the main hall to grab breakfast and, hopefully, catch news about a certain hobbit causing a stir last night. Her hope was granted with Aragorn coming down the hallway.

"Good, you are awake." He walked down to join her exiting. "I came to rouse you; we have been waiting."

She cut her eyes over at him. "Don't you men ever sleep?"

He chuckled. "Not much these days."

Rowan patted him on the shoulder. "One day you will... I hope.

"Anyway, I assume Pippin looked into the Palantír?"

Aragorn nodded.

"Did he see the White Tree?"

Again, he nodded.

"This is as you hoped," the Ranger said.

She sighed. "Yes. I know what is to be expected at Minas Tirith. Anywhere else I would not have been able to offer... guidance."

They entered the main hall and found it mostly deserted save for the king, Éomer, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, the two hobbits, and Haldir. Rowan could bet King Théoden had ordered the room to be cleared for what they were to discuss. The Third Marshal of the Riddermark caught her eye and nodded in greeting—his eyes still twinkled.

Rowan returned the smile and only averted her gaze from his as she seated to break her fast. His eyes lingered on her back. Looking around, the three hunters, Gandalf, and Haldir seemed to notice his attention on her, or the electric charge in the air. She ate quickly, but still waved Gandalf to begin.

The wizard recapped what had happened the previous night for the king, the Third Marshal of the Riddermark, and Haldir. She was relieved everything Pippin saw in the Seeing Stone was what he was supposed to see.

"He will not risk the peoples of Middle-earth uniting under one banner," he concluded. "He will raise Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne of men."

Haldir must've seen where this was going, for he said, "The hasty stroke goes oft astray."

"Yes, but we can no longer wait upon Sauron for the move. We know his plan; if the winds favor us, we can move before him." Gandalf turned to the king. "If the beacons are lit, Rohan must be ready for war." After considering it, the wizard looked at her. "Unless there is no need..."

Rowan shook her head. "There is no need to wait. Battle will come to Minas Tirith" —her eyes slid over to King Théoden— "and Rohan will ride to their aid. The vast army from Minas Morgul will be led by the Witch-King—this decisive battle will require as many men from Rohan that can be rallied."

"Then we must set out as soon as may be," Éomer said.

King Théoden nodded. "Muster the Rohirrim. We ride to Dunharrow."

The Third Marshal of the Riddermark bowed, then left to deliver the order.

"I will ride ahead at once with Peregrin Took," Gandalf stated.

After declaring intentions, everyone separated to do just that. King Théoden headed within Meduseld to tell the Court, Haldir probably went to find Rúmil, and the remaining members of the Fellowship went out the front doors, destined for the stables for the wizard and Pippin to leave on Shadowfax.

Éomer's orders hadn't reached everyone because only his éored and some Rohirrim moved about as they walked into the stables.

The stables smelled as all stables do: earthly smells of dirt, wood, and fresh hay, and the stench of manure. With as many horses as there were in stalls, though, Rowan was surprised the odor wasn't overwhelming—fresh air and hay overpowered the manure. She looked over into some stalls she passed and didn't see any dark brown clumps. The peoples of Rohan took great care of their horses.

At the back was the lord of all horses' stable. The pure white stallion watched them approach, seeming to already know he was needed, who he would be carrying, and that it wouldn't be a quick, easy trip.

Gandalf opened the gate and lifted Pippin onto the patient horse.

The hobbit looked at the wizard. "How far is Minas Tirith?"

"Three days' ride, as a Nazgûl flies," he said. "We fly—not from danger, but into greater danger."

Pippin's wide eyes lifted to Rowan's—they trembled.

"Do not worry so, Pippin. Believe in yourself," she said.

Merry gained his attention by handing him the last of his own stash of Longbottom Leaf.

Gimli shuffled closer to her. "They will be alright, right, lass?" he whispered.

"Yes. Even if something unexpected happens, I have faith that Gandalf will see them through it."

Aragorn had some last words with Gandalf before he held open the gate. She, Legolas, Gimli, and Merry got off the center aisle.

"Away, Shadowfax! Show us the meaning of haste!" the wizard called.

Shadowfax cried aloud and took off like a bolt of lightning. He was nothing but a blur of white when he flew past Rowan and out of the stables. The horse was already almost to the gate when Merry ran out, chasing them—wanting to see his friend off until he couldn't see him anymore. Aragorn followed.

Coming out of the stables, now Edoras was a flurry of movement. Men and Rohirrim rushed here and there, gathering supplies for the long ride to Dunharrow and later to Minas Tirith, pulling horses out of the stables, women and children helping fathers, husbands, or brothers prepare for battle, or giving sorrowful goodbyes. During this, the Lothlórien elves didn't leave; they instead helped the riders for departure.

Legolas said he would also go and get them prepared for the long journey; the dwarf went with him.

Rowan spotted Haldir speaking with Rúmil near a small fountain, the centerpiece designed in Rohirrim fashion as a horse head—water spewed out of its mouth. She headed over.

"Why haven't you left yet for the Golden Wood?" she asked.

Rúmil smiled—the smile always came easily for Haldir's younger brother. Sign of his youth, even though he was probably decades older than Rowan. "We will now remain for additional defense if Edoras is sieged upon as the warriors are gone."

"We decided this change after the news this morning," Haldir said. "With our fighters remaining, the king will not have to leave men. More can be mustered."

She nodded. "I believe this will ease the pressure on King Théoden."

The three fell silent for a while; Haldir looked at Rúmil. Some telepathic thought seemed to pass between the Elven brothers, or it was a sign of something they'd already discussed. Rúmil nodded to her with another smile, then walked off.

"Rowan, I must have a word with you," he began.

Rowan immediately began to worry. Did she say or do something wrong? Elves stayed true to their word... as far as she knew. He wasn't wanting to back out on protecting her so soon, was he?

They didn't move away like back up to Meduseld, where they might be able to find privacy in a hallway. They remained in the open, with people moving and talking all around them.

"I have been pondering what you have told me about saving Boromir's and my life."

She looked at him. Okay... Where was this going? If he wanted to ask her about her visions, they needed to be where no one could overhear. He knew that.

"How so?" she asked.

"In either vision of yours, I am not to see the day shine again on Helm's Deep, but you made it so. You forced fate to choose an alternative."

Rowan couldn't speak for a while, using his logic to figure out what he was getting at. The puzzle she completed left her stunned. "Because I saved you, Boromir had to die."

"That is my speculation."

Haldir's assumption made sense. A life for a life.

Her thoughts drifted to King Théoden's death at Pelennor Fields. "So, it may be best if I let a certain death happen, for the consequences of saving him may be too severe... like resulting in someone else dying, who isn't supposed to."

The elf nodded.

It made sense. Gandalf the Grey had 'died' so the Gondorian captain could live. In saving Haldir's life, she had robbed that guaranteed death. So that debt had to be paid. Boromir.

If Haldir's assumption was right—and the evidence certainly seemed to agree with it—someone else had to die if she saved King Théoden.

Anyone could be his replacement. Éomer could take his place, or Aragorn or Gandalf. Even Frodo or Sam... if they were still alive.

She knew what would happen if he died: Éomer would be named king of Rohan and Aragorn would ascend to the throne of Gondor... provided they survived the battle of Pelennor Fields and before the Black Gate. And if the Ring was destroyed. Also, if nothing drastic happened between here and Minas Tirith.

Rowan huffed as she ran a hand down her face. It was too risky with the unknowns if she did what she had planned.

She had to let King Théoden die.

"Sometimes I wish I didn't know what could happen..." she said quietly.

"Possessing foresight is equally a blessing and a burden."