Déorhild stood still, stunned, as a swirl of emotions flooded her brain, nearly sending her reeling. She closed her eyes as the events that had happened just a few moments before replayed in her mind. When the memory of Éomer kissing her came to mind, she felt a sudden warmth surge through her form and her eyes blinked open in surprise. Can I really be in love? After all that has happened?  The thought stayed in her mind till but a moment later and then she rushed out of her room and ran to the balcony over-looking the courtyard. Éomer was shouting orders to his men as they prepared to ride out. Déorhild thought for a moment of coming down and just telling him right then and there her feelings, but the feeling of rashness past and his last words came to her: "Tell my sister I am leaving."  Her mind made up, she turned left and began her search for Éowyn.

A few minutes later, she found her in the room where they had laid Théodred, Éowyn slowly stroking his pale, cold face over and over again as the silent tears fell down her face. Déorhild paused in the doorway before knocking lightly on the open door. Éowyn turned around, wet streaks on her face. "What is it?" she asked in a dull, broken voice.

Déorhild opened her mouth and closed it, stepping into the room and kneeling beside her. "It's Éomer."

"What's wrong?" Éowyn's golden brows were drawn together in worry.

"He's been banished from Edoras.--"

"By who?!" the sister interrupted.

"By... By Théoden."

Éowyn gaped at her. "No... It can't be possible..." she whispered in shock.

"Aye, but it is. He told me so himself but a few moments ago. He's leaving now with his men."

Éowyn rose immediately to her feet and ran back the way Déorhild had come, pausing and looking down at the courtyard as Éomer shouted a command and they rode out. Déorhild watched Éowyn as she slowly turned around, her face grave but calm and composed. "Do you love my brother?"

Déorhild opened her eyes in shock. "What?"

"Do you love my brother?" she repeated, questioningly, searchingly.

The other woman looked at the ground as the blood rushed to her face. "Aye, aye, I do."

"Then go. Ride out with them."

"But they'll send me back!"

"No, change your clothes to that of a man's. They'll never recognize you as long as you always keep your helmet on and pitch your voice lower."

"Éomer said I had to take care of you," Déorhild protested.

Éowyn laughed, though it was bitter and not light-hearted. "I can take care of myself. Gríma wouldn't dare do anything. But no, you must  go. Please. I can bear his banishment better if you are with him."

Déorhild returned her gaze, but said nothing.

"Watch out for him, that he doesn't do anything too rash. I want him to remain alive till the banishment is lifted. Besides," she added solemnly, "I know he loves you. Go. Most likely you'll be safer with him than here."

Déorhild nodded. "Are you certain of this?"

"Aye. Now go, before I make you do it myself."

Déorhild turned on her heel and went to her room, closing the door. Then she slipped out of her dress into clothes that had been her brother's, Lindúin's, that she had taken from Rohandras a few months ago. It felt strange to be wearing breeks and a tunic instead of a long, flowing dress. She bound up her hair and belted the tunic, slipping into worn, leather boots, grabbing a cloak and blanket that she rolled up and tied with leather straps before striding down the corridor headed for the courtyard.

Once in the stables, she managed to locate a suit of chain-mail and she slipped it on over her head, tugging at the tiny, metal rings as she forced the armor on. It was a little tight across the chest, but it still allowed freedom of movement and she had no difficulty breathing. Grabbing other items she would need, including a sword and simple leather coif with a chain-mail mask that covered the mouth, she saddled up a horse by the name of Brainwyn. No one had yet seen her.

Digging her heels into the horse's flanks, she rode out of the stables, across the courtyard, and down through the city, leaving the gates in the dusty wake of the group that had passed before. She would be joining them soon.

Little by little, she finally caught up with them and no one seemed to notice her arrival. Most likely, they were too busy keeping up with the group to care. She was silent with the rest and was glad of that. She did not feel like speaking at the moment.

They stopped after nightfall and made camp. The group made fires about the camp after setting the picket-lines as there was no danger of a night-attack by orcs. If there was, indeed the reports of recent attacks on the borders were but a warning to the evil now unleashed on the struggling country by Saruman and Sauron, united by evil. Déorhild unhooked the mask on her helmet so she could eat, though she had little appetite, but did not take off the leather coif. She did not speak to anyone and no one spoke to her or to anyone else for that matter. Most were busy with their own thoughts.

Déorhild only once that evening had a fearful moment when Éomer, still fully dressed in his chain-mail and leather armor, passed by their group and gave out the password should anyone need to leave the perimeter guarded by watchful men set about the camp. She kept her head down, but still the foolish nudging of her mind played before her eyes all the possible scenarios of discovery. He didn't even notice her, however, and she felt a great relief when he passed on.

At last, she laid down to sleep, pulling up her blanket up to her neck. The night was cold, icy cold, despite the fires and thin blanket offered little warmth. The ground was hard and knobbly and no matter how much she tossed and turned, she could not get comfortable. However, the exhaustion of the trying day overcame here and she closed her eyes as sleep crept up welcoming upon her tired body.

The next day, they set off again in the chill, golden-hued misty morning as the sun began to rise coldly in a pale blue sky. The dead-grasses that lay about the land were about as welcoming as the sharp rocks that threatened to break a horse's leg if the rider was not paying attention. They headed north-west, where Éomer said the need was greatest to defend their country of Rohan against the ever-increasing orc attacks. Déorhild was settling into this type of daily pattern, even though it was the second day doing this. Still, though, she wondered what was going to happen to them; what was going to happen to them all...

Yes! Another update! What did you all think? Let me know in the comments, please. ;-) I love your feedback, honestly. What do you think of Déorhild so far? Do you think she should have gone with the banished group or should she have stayed?

Also, thank you so much for helping this book reach 1.8k! You are amazing!

Bonus question: What's your favorite quote/song from LOTR? ;-) I'll let you know my answer in response to your questions.