In the early hours of the dawn when even the sun had not yet risen, Éomer made his way through the darkened palace and through the courtyards to the stables. There he saddled and packed two horses. One of them, a speckled grey, was Éomer's. The other, a pure grey, was the horse Déorhild had borrowed from a neighbor who had lived in her village. He led them both out of the stables. Déorhild was walking from the palace. Her grim determination made Éomer somewhat depressed. He already was exhausted from being on guard the night before, (though he had not told Déorhild yet) and the prospect of riding all night did not sound too appealing.

Déorhild came striding towards him. Éomer handed her horse to her before leaping onto his. He watched Déorhild as she sprang up and landed gently into her saddle in one swift movement. He shook his head. Déorhild was ever full of surprises.

"Right," she said, "We're off." They both galloped out of the palace and eventually the capital. The landscape changed dramatically as the city disappeared and they journeyed north-east.

Towards the evening after a day of almost total silence, Éomer found it hard to keep alert and in the saddle. He blinked rapidly, trying to brighten his dulling senses. That's when he noticed where they were. The mountains which signafied the Gap of Rohan had appeared on the distance horizon. Déorhild had stopped, gazing at them, as if simply staring at them would make them come closer. She then spoke for the first time since they had left Eodoras. "We'll camp here for the night." And at that, she jumped down from her horse. Éomer looked around, wondering why Déorhild would have chosen such a desolate place to camp.

Déorhild started unsaddling her horse. It almost seemed like a year since she had been here last though it was only a matter of months. A chill wind whipped around her and she looked at Éomer still seated on his horse. She felt remorse for being unsociable all day so she said abruptedly, "Is there something wrong?"

Éomer started, looked in Déorhild, half jumped and half slipped off his horse and strode towards Déorhild. "Nothing is wrong, but this is a desolate land," he said glancing around. "Don't you think that orcs are most likely to come here since no one dwells here?"

"No, I think not," she replied looking at the distant mountains. "They live in dwellings and there are none here. They'll be in the mountains," she stated. Then she continued, looking straight at Éomer, "One of us must always be on watch. And," she said with a wry smile, --which, though it wasn't the smile Éomer would have liked, it was the first time she smiled or for that matter shown any emotion-- "Since you were on watch last night, I'll keep watch tonight. Tomorrow it's your turn."

Éomer looked at the ground. How did she know?  he thought. But he had no time to wonder about it for Déorhild started making camp under the shadow of a outlying bolder that looked as if it had simply sprung out of the ground. He unsaddled his horse and let it loose along with Déorhild's to graze. He knew that in a strange country and landscape they wouldn't wander far.

A couple hours later, with a fire burning brightly, for against all arguments on his part she refused to put it out, stating that if a single orc/goblin would dare come close, they would get a good taste of Rohan-made steel and iron, Éomer tried to keep awake, but soon his eyelids closed and he was in a deep sleep.

Déorhild watched Éomer fall asleep with a half amused look on her face. That look of surprise on his face when she told him that he had been on watch the night before was quite satisfying for keeping silent all day. But still --and here her face sobered down a good deal-- it was hard keeping her real identity secret. She had told no one after her father and older siblings had told her who she was and how she must keep secret the fact that she was only half Rohan. Her father, Imrahil, was a prince of Dol Amroth near the sea in the realm of Gondor. When her father was traveling once through the Gap of Rohan, he was wounded severely and her mother had helped heal his wounds. They fell in love with each other and were married. For many years after, he lived in his wife's village. He told her that she was now the princess of the city where he was prince and that her cousins were the sons of the steward of the throne of Gondor. Déorhild had only seen them once and that was many years ago. Why her father had always been insistent on her silence over the matter, she could never tell...

She was startled by a distant shout which she knew by now to be those of orcs and goblins. She jumped to her feet, climbed the boulder behind her, and looked around. The moon was shining brightly so that she could see far in every direction. A bright orange light flared in the direction of the mountains, but other than that Déorhild could see no other sign of life. After staring for several minutes, she climbed down.

Éomer had woken up by the unexpected movement. After Déorhild climbed down he spoke, his voice hushed. Even so, it shattered the silence. "What was that?"

"Orcs," she replied curtly.

"Will they come and attack?" he asked, throwing off the blanket he had been using and standing up.

Déorhild looked out towards the mountains. "I don't think so. Not tonight at any rate." She looked at Éomer. "They're too faraway." She came back to the fire.

Éomer walked around the fire, till he stood right next to Déorhild. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder and looked tenderly into her face. Déorhild stared at his hand before looking up and meeting his eyes. They looked at each other for a matter of minutes before Déorhild turned her face away, embarrassed. "Déorhild," he almost whispered, "Let me watch, whilst you sleep."

Déorhild looked back at him again before answering, "No, you need it. You almost fell off your horse from exhaustion. What's to keep you from falling asleep again?"

Éomer sighed, before asking pleadingly, "At least for a little while?" he said, gazing wistfully into her face.

"All right," she replied. She sat down in her vacant place. Éomer sat next to her. They sat in silence for awhile, each thinking their own thoughts. Éomer watched her out of the corner of his eye. She sat staring at the fire, but her ears were straining to catch a sound other than the sound of horses sleeping and Éomer's quiet, but steady breathing next to her. He stared at the fire also now.

Éomer wondered, not for the first time, nor the last either, where Déorhild's true feelings lay. He wondered if she shared the same fondness and affection that he had for her. It was so very hard to know what she was thinking, for she never showed any emotion (except for the wry smile earlier) since her anguished outburst a few days after her arrival. She was always quiet, usually sitting in stony silence. It could be quite unnerving at times. But then, he pondered, what if she wished to be like that? What if because of all that she had gone through, wished to remain quiet and somewhat unfriendly because she was afraid to make friends again for fear that she might lose them the same way she had lost the ones before? Or what if, though she had not told him, that someone close to her had given the village away? Or, he thought somewhat bitterly, she was unfriendly to him because she had already been in love with someone and he had died when the orcs attacked? But Éomer pushed that thought away quickly.

Déorhild sat quietly, though her thoughts were at one point similar to the same train of thought as Éomer. She first thought about the remainder of the journey ahead. A week at most and they would be there. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of what she would find there. Would she find survivors? Or more likely, would the orcs be in possession of the village? At any rate, orcs or no, she would find the vile creatures wherever they were and kill them all. But then her thoughts took a different turn. Why had Éomer laid his hand on her shoulder? For, reason as she might, the look he gave her was way much warmer than should be between a male and female guard or comrade-at-arms. Did he love her? The thought in itself, was quite incredulous, and she tossed it away. But it came back unbidden. Did he?