~Chapter Seventeen~

The Return of the Sword

For two long days, the Rohirrim marched south towards the White Mountains across the plains of Rohan alongside the Snowbourne River. For every stride of the horses the soldiers were carried closer and closer to the great mountains. Medlinya from the back of Arod behind the Elf Prince her eyes studied each rock, spec of grass, and the large mountains around her curiously. A weird sense heaviness of the earth weighed against her shoulders. A strange feeling in her gut manifested itself as the Rohirrim was lead into a narrow floodplain between two bases of the White Mountains. As the sun passed through the middle of the sky, Theoden lead the company and his men into a vast river valley under the cover of trees. The vast vale had become a Rohirrim camp filled with tents, soldiers, weapons, horses, and campfires.

'So is this Dunharrow?' Medlinya questioned curiously. 

Her sapphire eyes caught the slight incline of the Elf's head in front of her, 'It is, Aier.' [Short one].

The strange feeling seemed to become denser for every step Arod made into the valley. 'Legolas, I feel unusual.'

His cerulean orbs found her sapphire eyes immediately after her words were spoken, worried. 'Are you ill?'

A soft reassuring smile manifested on her lips, 'No I'm not ill.' Her eyes flickered to a great cliff in the distance, overlooking the valley of the soldiers' tents. A steep, winding path carved into the mountain was the only access any being could climb to get to the cliff. Darkness hovered around the cliff, a queer darkness Medlinya knew only she could see. 'That cliff has a companion... Darkness.'

Legolas stared at his Faenod, knowingly of what she spoke of though felt unable to speak about it. King Theoden lead the remaining companionship and his Riders through the encampment at Dunharrow, surveying Rohan's army.

Riding through the path between the tents, Theoden acknowledges a man, "Grimbold, how many?"

"I bring five hundred men from the Westfold, my Lord." Grimbold replied courtly as the King strode by. 

Gamling came to view among the soldiers, "We have three hundred more from Fenmarch, Theoden, King."

"Where are the riders from Snowbourn?" Theoden questioned his trusted guard, slowing his horse slighty to catch the disappointing words,

"None have come, my Lord." 

A tense silence fell over the soldiers who followed after King Theoden. Aragorn, riding on his dark brown horse Brego alongside Arod, glanced over to Legolas with a grave glint in his dark blue eyes. The Elf Prince exchanged the same expression as does Gimli. The she-elf had heard the awful news though her focus was on the cliff in the distance. With every ounce of her being, Medlinya did not desire to be close to that rock face. Dark ancient magic swirled around that peculiar mountain like light circulating the Sun.

Something terrible lingers in that mountain.

Something that did not want no living man nearby.

With a nervous gulp, Medlinya was helplessly carried closer and closer to the cliff face till she had to tilt her head back almost parallel to the ground to see the ledge. Uneasily the she-elf strengthened her grip around the Elf as the horses began to climb one by one up the narrow, winding rocky path.

Legolas' hand gripped his Faenod's clasped hands with a comforting squeeze, 'Uuma dela, Medlinya. The Stair of the Hold will safely guide us to the land on top of the cliff, Firienfield.' [Don't worry, Medlinya.] In response, Medlinya apprehensively nodded at his consonance and slowly as the Riders ascended the stair.

Rounding the corner, her sapphire eyes caught sight of a strange cloaked statue placed at the bend of the stair. Almost like a ghoul the holes where eyes should be were long vertical ovals. Its arms carved around its large stump of a body. The statue appeared to be sitting with its legs crossed. The black eyeless ovals seemed to be watching every men as their horses trot by. As Arod passed the statue, the black ovals sought out her frighten form. Her shaky hands gripped the Elf tighter, clinging onto him like an afraid child. 'Legolas, mani naa tanya nat'?' [Legolas, what is that thing?]

The Elf Prince remained gazing forward without a twitch of his muscles he remained quiet and motionless. Legolas knew what 'thing' his Faenod had meant and did not care to take in the sight of the statue himself. 'The Men of the White Mountains carved those statures formally known as Pukelmen. Their purpose is to ward off potential enemies.'

'Men of the White Mountains? Pukelmen? I never heard of such things before.'

As Arod continued up the path, the Elf calmly stroked Medlinya's arm to placate her. 'It is a story you should not worry about, Aier.'

Her sapphire eyes studied the back of Legolas' head carefully, curious on why the Elf would not speak of the Men of the Mountains. Although Medlinya trusted that Legolas had a good reason why he will not tell. With her utmost faith in the Elf Prince, the she-elf nestled her head into his back to avoid the sight of the next statues on the way up to Firienfield. 

Theoden led the large throng of Riders up eight 'flights' of the Stair of the Hold to the ridge of Firienfield. Upon entering the large grassy area, the Riders of Edoras began setting up their tents. The Rohirrim King silently stood on a bluff overlooking the thousands of  military camps below. Smoke from many small campfires filled the valley with a foggy haze.

Dismounting the white stallion Arod, Legolas stepped onto the grassy ground turning to the uneasy she-elf on the white horse's left side. Not completely attune to her surroundings she had not noticed the absence of the Elf, instead she studied the grounds with her sharp eyes. "Medlinya." Legolas softly voiced, gaining the pair of sapphire eyes.

With a faint crooked smile, Medlinya swung her right leg over to her left as Legolas' strong hands gripped her hips. Setting her hands onto his shoulders, the Elf Prince lift the she-elf off the horse onto the ground safely. As the Elves opened their mouths to speak, their eyes were caught by Aragorn approaching Theoden at the bluff. When the Ranger stopped at the King's side, quietly the Elves took their leave with Arod further into Firienfield.

"Six thousand spears. Less than half of what I'd hoped for." The King quietly voiced, sensing the Ranger's presence beside him. 

Aragorn steadily inclined his head at the King's words, before turning to Theoden. "Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor."

Theoden's eyes sought out the sincere eyes of Aragorn with a reassuring smile upon his face,  "More will come."

"Every hour lost hastens Gondor's defeat. We have till dawn. Then we must ride." Aragorn responded, with a dour expression. 

The King of Rohan's expression struck realization to the Ranger's words. 'No matter what the numbers they have, he must commit to war by the morning. Theoden nods to the Ranger gravely at the truth of Aragorn's words. 

Horses whinnied loudly in the distance behind the company of Theoden and Aragorn. The King of Rohan glances back to the looming mountain behind them. 

The two Elves and the Dwarf silently observe the camps as they make their way through the encampments. The Rohirrim horses rear back in terror as their masters attempt to quiet them. Feeling the horses discomfort Medlinya strayed closer to the side of Legolas as the three continued through the camps. The Elf Prince's sharp cerulean eyes in the midst of his Faenod shuffling closer to him and the horses loud wails, caught the sight of  a group of soldiers sitting quietly and hunched over. No one dared to speak.

Legolas lead the Dwarf and the she-elf to the side of Eomer, who was unsaddling his horse nearby the quiet group of soldiers. "The horses are restless, and the men are quiet." The Elf observed uneasily. 

The dark eyes of Eomer warily glance over to the dark peaks, "They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain."

Gimli's eyes travel to a row of ancient standing stones that marked the entrance to a road leading away from the Firienfield and into the mountain. "That road there, where does that lead?"

Legolas' eyes peered over to the passage way with an troubled glint in his eyes. "It is the road to the Dimholt; the door under the mountain."

Agitated by the sight of the path, Eomer nodded to the Elf's words. "None who venture there ever return." The captain's attention returned back to the saddle of his horse. "That mountain is evil." Eomer muttered under his breath distastefully. 

Hearing the words of the Rohirrim captain, Aragorn stands before the road as if bewitched by the entrance before him. Before him a horse whinnies, pulling on his ropes nervously. Amongst the pale stones of the mountains, a shadowy, ghostly figure seemed to emerge from the twilight. Aragorn's body tenses up in fright as,

"Aragorn!" The Ranger's eyes snapped down to the Dwarf staring calmly back up at him. "Let's find some food." Aragorn casts another unsteady look back to the ancient stones before following after Gimli. 

As the dusk retreated into night, all is quiet in the encampment besides the crackles of small campfires. Medlinya stood away from the warmth of the fire, cloaking herself in the darkness of the night and mountain. With crossed arms and a steady stare the she-elf watched the Dimholt's entrances from her motion-less standing stance. Medlinya felt unwilling to move her eyes away from the eerie opening into the mountain. The swirling darkness intrigued her. Though not in good way. Her heart was unsettled by the presence.

What ever looms in the mountains was definitely not welcoming with open arms. It was angry at the Rohirrim's refuge on the cliff, Medlinya felt an unrelenting presence of the 'its' of the mountain, and murderous spelled out just from the mass of the black swirls around the mountain. The she-elf sensed wrongfully slain men amongst the wicked darkness. Medlinya acknowledged the words of Eomer earlier, no men who have entered the Dimholt ever returned. 

Several paces behind the she-elf, Legolas watched the she-elf worriedly. Never had he seen Medlinya acting so strange. During the two day ride to Dunharrow, Medlinya got an 12 hour sleep on the first day of their travels. Though as it seemed, as they approached the mountains his Faenod became restless.

Calmly he approached the still form of Medlinya, studied her carefully. 'What is it that you see?' 

Legolas' voice slightly startled the she-elf, as her sapphire eyes met his cerulean orbs. Quietly the two Elves stared at each other in a calm silence as Medlinya contemplated her next words. Biting her lip in thought, the she-elf knew she must tell her Faenod about the darkness and the knowledge she had gained from staring into the swirls. Gently the she-elf placed her fingers at the Elf Prince's temple as her eyes close. Letting her duplicated knowledge swim through her arm to her fingertips into Legolas' mind. 

His own eyes fluttered closed as the warmth of penetrating knowledge entered his own mind. In glimpses, like still images of tapestries, the Elf saw the swirling black mass around the mountain and the feelings of Medlinya with every new image. Progressively the feelings intensified from being timid to being absolutely terrified to keep an eye off the entrance of the Dimholt. The words: anger, relentless, and murder floating in his mind as the knowledge was at its end. 

Opening their eyes, the two Elves exchanged grim frown at the findings of the she-elf. Her warm fingertips lingered against the Elf's temple, unable to move from her fear. With a reassuring smile, Legolas enveloped the frightened she-elf into his sincere embrace. Holding her safely, Medlinya's tense shoulders slowly slacken as her fear ebbed away by the warmth of the Elf holding her so close.

"Tula, hama neva i'naur." Legolas softly whispered to the calmer she-elf. [Come, sit near the fire]. 

Guiding Medlinya away from the main road from the sight of the Dimholt, Legolas lead his Faenod to a small campfire accompanied with two tents close by. Gimli sat on a log quietly warming his small hands by the fire in front of one of the tents, presumably to Medlinya that the tent is his own. His fierce eyes spotted the two Elves approaching with a mighty smile. "Ah, lass there ye are. Pointy ears and I were worried 'bout ye."

Instead of a glare of pure detesting of the Dwarf, Legolas grinned at Gimli friendly. Medlinya took a moment to reflect how the two sworn enemies hated one another long ago. Their exchange to each other were mere eye rolls and quick-tongued insults. Though now the Elf Prince of Mirkwood and the Dwarf of the Lonely Mountain shared jokes and wholehearted grins. It was a sight that Medlinya had always wanted to see. 

A sweet smile manifested on the she-elf's lips, "I apologize for worrying you both again by my absence." 

Gimli and Legolas' eyes glanced over to Medlinya with gentle smiles. "Now lass, it would be unnatural if ye were not missin'. I would be worried if ye were here with us the entire time."

Medlinya bobbed her head at the Dwarf's words, still smiling sweetly. Her eyes linked with Legolas' cerulean eyes, now realizing her own fatigue. "Amin anta est." [I need rest].

The Elf approvingly smiled and bowed his head at the she-elf. With a soft hand to her back, Legolas escorted the sleepy Medlinya to the tent beside the tent Gimli sat in front of, "Quel esta, Medlinya." [Rest well, Medlinya].

As the she-elf rotated around to the Elf, Legolas' warm lips pressed against Medlinya's smooth forehead. The roseate cheeks of the she-elf heated up like an open flame beneath her skin as a fluttery warm tenderness consumed every living ounce of her being. It was a relieving sense of emotion than fear the she-elf had held within her heart for nearly two days. As his smooth lips were pulled away from her skin, a rush of cold air replaced the warmth between the two Elves snapped the she-elf back from a trance. 

Their smiling eyes intertwined in a seemingly everlasting gaze. Upon the she-elf's lips was a smile that nearly took the breath of the Elf staring down at her. The smiles Medlinya had given him over the few months had progressively brightened into a beautiful ray of brilliance. Although this divine smile seemed to illuminate the darkness that shrouded the lands. More radiant than the sun, Legolas' heart was left astounded by the loveliness of her beam on her delicate face. Her curved lips caused sparkles in the endless sea of her sapphire eyes as if stars rested in the watery depths than the dark heavens above.

Frozen in time and space, Legolas' heart lurched up into his throat when the she-elf took a step closer to his paralyzed form filling gap between their bodies. Her eyes glittered dazzlingly as if taunting the vulnerability of the Elf who stood a breath away. All the Elf Prince could do was watch the she-elf slowly raise herself to her tippy-toes as his heart rattled against his chest. Their warm breaths mingled as Medlinya completely stood on the very tip of her toes gaining the height of Legolas with her sweet smile still etched on her fair face. Instinctively Legolas bent his head forward to capture the she-elf's lips with his own into a longing kiss. Something both Elves had longed to do since they first met. Their rudely interrupted almost-kiss back in Edoras created a build of passion in their hearts that needed to be unleashed. Courtesy to Gwiliweth, the Elves had not shared that perfect kiss. Excitement warmed the Elves as they realized no one could interrupt their moment. Inching closer and closer, their noses brushed against the other sending shivers down their spines. Softly their smooth lips brushed by the other creating visible shudders from the she-elf. As if to steady the she-elf his strong warm hands cupped the back of her head while one wrapped itself around her waist. 

When the Elves leaned closer giving in their unbearable longing, a loud cough resounded at their campsite. Legolas opened his mouth to express his frustration of being interrupted again, when his cerulean eyes found Aragorn standing on the main road staring directly at the couple. The Ranger's humor-less expression calmed the Elf's anger into concern. Aragorn's eyes flickered from Legolas to the she-elf in the Elf's arms, "Lady Medlinya, Theoden has summoned you and I to his tent." The Ranger spoke with a serious glint in his eyes. 

Medlinya bowed her head to the Ranger before gazing up at her Faenod still watching Aragorn with eyes filled with curiosity. "I will soonly return." she whispered with a sincere smile, though not as brilliant as the other smile. Her soft voice gained the attention of the Elf as his cerulean eyes met her sapphires. Swiftly the she-elf planted a small kiss to his cheek before delicately removing herself from Legolas' embrace and hurried to the Ranger. 

Joining Aragorn's side, the Ranger guided the two down the grassy path into the darkness of the night. Most of the men were sleeping in their tents as a handful of men continued to stay awake by their small fires. As the two passed the awake men, they earned acknowledgment with a respectful bow of their heads. From the darkness, a larger cloth tent came to view before them with two Riders guarding either side of the entrance. The tent stood taller than two tents stacked upon each other and wider than six tents of the tents used by the men. Approaching the tent, one of the guards bowed their head low as he lifted the cloth door into the tent. 

Medlinya and Aragorn inclined their heads in return before entering the tent. Spread beneath their feet laid brown, black, white, brown and white cow-hides knitted as a large rug. Off to the side sat a large wooden table with a rolled out map of Middle Earth. Hanging on the cloth walls of the tent hung Rohirrim flags of every shape and size. Medlinya noticed the side profile of Theoden standing in front of a seated, black cloaked figure. The King of Rohan stood almost hunching over with his hands clasped behind his back as he studied the figure before him. A

Noticing the presence of the Ranger and the she-elf, Theoden's eyes flicker to Aragorn as the King resumed a normal upright stance. "I take my leave." Bowing slightly to the black hooded figure, Theoden takes his leave, shooting a strange look to the Ranger as he goes. 

The cloaked figure stands from its chair gaining the full attention of the two friends and approaches the two, pulling back the hood off its face revealing Elrond: The Lord of Rivendell. 

Immediately the two comrades inclined their bodies to the Elf before them, "My Lord, Elrond." Aragorn voiced in shock. 

"I come on behalf of one whom I love." Elrond's eyes once full of certainty, now full of pain. "Arwen is dying."

Upon hearing the news, Medlinya observed Aragorn's face slowly waxen turning pale. "She stayed?" A croak of Aragorn's voice uttered in disbelief. 

It was then that Medlinya realized that Arwen was part human part elf like Gwiliweth. Unlike full blood Elves, Arwen and Gwiliweth had a choice of immortality or mortality. Either they depart to the west to the Undying Lands loving forever or they stay here on the soil of Man living as mortals and dying as such. It is a choice sole dependent on the Elf in question alone. Gwiliweth had not been in a situation to choose long life or a short life during her 2,000 years. Medlinya had hoped the young she-elf would not have to face such decision too soon without knowledge of her own Faenod.

Returning back to reality from her thoughts, Elrond's face considerably grew more in pain. "She will not long survive the evil that now spreads from Mordor." The Lord Elf's eyes sought out the necklace around Aragorn's neck.  "The light of the Evenstar is failing. As Sauron's power grows, her strength wanes. Arwen's life is now tied to the fate of the Ring. The shadow is upon us, Aragorn. The end has come."

"It will not be our end but His." Aragorn responded fiercely.

Elrond shook his head at the Ranger solemnly. "You ride to war but not to victory. Sauron's armies march on Minas Tirith, as you know, but in secret He sends another force, which will attack from the river." Aragorn studies the Lord Elf in shock as the Elf continues,  "A fleet of Corsair ships sails from the South. They'll be in the city in two days. You're outnumbered, Aragorn. You need more men."

Aragorn moved his head left to right slowly at the Elf's words. "There are none."

Elrond hesitates slightly, "There are those who… dwell in the mountain." the Elf whispered.

A sudden wind rushes through the tent, lifting hangings, scattering maps, and knocking over goblets off the tables. Wide eyed, Medlinya felt a dark presence among the three in the tent. A presence with immense power almost as if it 'ruled' the swirling darkness Medlinya had seen. 

"Murderers! Traitors!" Aragorn spat, "You would call upon them to fight? They believe in nothing! They answer to no one."

"They will answer to the King of Gondor!" With a fling of the black cloak, Elrond reveals a plain black scabbard from beneath his ropes. The Lord Elf's long white fingers drew the hilt of the sword from the sheath exposing an elven sword glistening in the candlelight. "Andúril… Flame of the West. Forged from the shards of Narsil."

Aragorn takes the sword in its scabbard, examining it in awe.  "Sauron will not have forgotten the Sword of Elendil." The Ranger mused as he stared at the sword. Faster than lightning, the Ranger drew the long blade from its sheath. "The blade that was broken shall return to Minas Tirith." 

"The man who can wield the power of this sword can summon to him an army more deadly than any that walks this earth." Elrond fervidly replied as his eyes stared hard at Aragorn who returned the same intense stare, "Put aside the ranger. Become who you were born to be. Take the Dimholt road."

With uneasiness of this duty, Aragorn removed his eyes from the powerful eye-lock of the Lord Elf. A heavy silence hangs in the room as Medlinya quietly watched the exchange between Elrond and Aragorn. 

Slowly, the Elf Lord's face softens from his powerful speech, "Ónen i-Estel Edain." [I gave Hope to the Dúnedain.]

Hearing the calmness of the Elrond's voice, Aragorn met the eyes of the Elf Lord. "Ú-chebin Estel anim." His voice was solemn as his eyes gave away sadness held deep inside. [I have kept no hope for myself.]

Another silence emerges between the three, when Aragorn swiftly makes his leave out of the tent. Her sapphire eyes stayed watching the linen door of the Ranger's exit. "Lady Medlinya, I'm glad to see you in good health." Elrond's voice sounded behind her with a calm fatherly-tone. 

Swirling around to the Elf, her features were ridden with bemusement. "Why have you summoned me here with Aragorn?"

Elrond gracefully nodded his head at the she-elf as his face turned dour. "I have come with a warning." 

Medlinya's heart froze in fear for a split second at his words, "What warning?" 

The Elf Lord slowly glanced away from the terror-filled sapphire eyes of Medlinya to a table at his right. "This war will bring many casualties on both Mordor and the Domioion of Men. For which side will win? I did not see such end. Though I have seen many great warriors fall." His sincere eyes locked with Medlinya's, "I have foreseen possible outcomes of your fate, Lady Medlinya. In the midst of the battle in the plains of Pelennor, I saw your death by a hand I could not identify." Lord Elrond asserted gravely as he watched the blood drain from the she-elf's face.The hope that had always shone in her eyes dispersed into the abyss. "Though another vision showed you barely alive, yet still surviving the attempt of killing you by the same hand." Elrond added that seemed to cause a slight shimmer of hope in her eyes to return. "Someone is after you and they have been since you first set out of Rivendell months ago."

Medlinya gulped nervously as her hands began to shake, "Do you have any instinct on who it could be?" 

Elrond's eyes sadden as her shaky words reached his ears. "I have come up with only three when I received the visions: Saruman, the Witch-king, or the Dark Lord himself. In the forests of Emyn Muil when the Fellowship was still together, those Uruk-hai were sent after the Hobbits and you by Saruman for the Dark Lord. You are a great threat with your powers. Lady Gwiliweth sacrificed her safety for yours when she heard the orders to snatch the hobbits and a she-elf."

The she-elf's eyes widened at the revelation. Her heart filled with gratitude to her companion of many years. If Gwiliweth believed that she, the Elf with power over nature and healing, had a chance against the Dark Lord than Medlinya knew she should heed the warning though keep her hopes high.

As the shine of hope brewed into her sapphire eyes once again, "What should I do, Lord Elrond?"

Elrond approached the she-elf containing his grim eyes on her glimmering orbs, "Never stray from the side of Legolas. The power of the Faenod bond will keep away darkness that desires to crush you." 

"It is not that easy to wander from him. He always finds me." The she-elf responded with a soft smile. With a swift bow of allegiance, Medlinya pivoted around to the exit.

Before she stepped out of the tent, her ears caught Elrond's whisper under his breath. "Heed the warning well, my friend." 

Exiting into the cold dark night on the Firienfield of Dunharrow, her eyes spotted Aragorn readying his horse to depart. 'You are going down the Dimholt.' Medlinya voiced as an observation.

The Ranger's eyes did not need to find the sapphire eyes of the she-elf since he could feel her intense stare at his back. Responding to her comment, he slightly nodded his head in silence. Eowyn approaches Aragorn not noticing Medlinya standing nearby, the woman's temper barely held in check. "Why are you doing this?"

Aragorn glances over his shoulder to an confused and angry Eowyn, noticing the she-elf quietly departing from the scene back towards her camp. "The war lies to the East. You cannot leave on the eve of battle!" Her eyes desperately flickered back and forth struggling to find the right words to say, "You cannot abandon the men."

"Eowyn…" The Ranger began to speak when the woman continued her temper streak.

"We need you here." Eowyn declared as her eyes shimmered with light of an untold feeling within her heart.

Aragorn turns to the woman calmly, "Why have you come?"

"Do you not know?" Eowyn questioned with tears brimming in her soft blue eyes as a soft smile spread from her lips. 

Aragorn studies the woman sadly, not wanting to hurt her. "It is but a shadow and a thought that you love. I cannot give you what you seek." His voice was gentle, letting the woman of Rohan down gently. Eowyn reared back as if she was struck by a blade through her heart. Her fair face crumbled in terrible sadness and shock to his words as she watched Aragorn leads Brego away down the path. 

Silently, Aragorn leads his horse through the tents towards the Dimholt Road. The air was still as men sleep gaining strength for the long ride to Gondor. A light flashes ahead of him gaining his immediate attention. A short figure stepped out from the shadows with a pipe in hand. "Just where do you think you're off to?"

Aragorn smiles at the Dwarf, grateful for his courage but the Ranger was determined to go alone. "Not this time. This time you must stay, Gimli."

The Dwarf frowned at the Ranger's words. From in between tents off to the side, Legolas appears leading Arod by the reins with a smiling Medlinya already mounted on the horse. "Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?" The Elf mused with a broad smile towards the two men before him. 

Gimli stepped closer to the Ranger with a mighty grin "You might as well accept it. We're going with you, laddie."

Aragorn shakes his head, smiling his acceptance of the company. With help, Gimli was lifted up onto Brego as the Ranger followed after taking the front. Before Legolas gracefully leaped onto Arod in front, Medlinya and him exchanged smiles. The she-elf had allowed Legolas see everything that happened in the tent excluding Elrond's warning. She was afraid of how the Elf would react to such a horrid prophesy. The she-elf did not want her Faenod to risk his own life to prevent any blade that thrust her way. She made it her secret goal to accomplish to stay close to Legolas to prevent her potential death.

The company four slowly ride towards the back of the plateau gradually past the standing stones leading them into a narrow pass. Soldiers emerge from their tents to watch, crestfallen as they watch Aragorn leave. The Rohan soldiers murmur along themselves in horror, 

"What's happening?"

"Where's he going?"

"I don't understand."

Before their eyes, the retreating figures into the shadows of the White Mountains. The guard Gamling made his way through the crowd as confusement was ridden on his face, "Lord Aragorn!" 

A soldier turned to Gamling, "Why does he leave on the eve of battle?"

A dispirited Gamling turned to the mass of confused soldiers, "He leaves because there is no hope."

"He leaves because he must." Theoden's voice sounded before doubts of their ride. All the Riders turned to their King as he made his way to the side of Gamling. 

Gamling met the King's eye, "Too few have come. We cannot defeat the armies of Mordor."

"No, we cannot." Theoden agreed with a displaced tone of certainty among his despondent men. His sincere blue eyes surveyed his frightened men, "But we will meet them in battle nonetheless."

The Riders nod gravely in agreement to their King's words, returning to their linen tents silently as the night began to lighten. 

~~~

Theoden calmly strides back to his tent, when his eyes finds Eowyn standing as id she had been turned into stone as she watched the lightened sky above. The silence before the Rider of Rohan depart for war.  

Silently the King made his way to the side of Eowyn with a smile. "I have left instructions. The people are to follow your rule in my stead. Take up my seat in the Golden Hall. Long may you defend Edoras if the battle goes ill."

Emotionless, Eowyn turned to the king. "What other duty would you have me do, my lord?" the woman questioned without emotion. 

Theoden flicked his head over to the blank faced woman at his side, "Duty?" The King echoed with a shake of his head as her face lowered from his sight. "No." Theoden approached his niece taking her pale hands into his. "I would have you smile again. Not grieve for those whose time has come." Eowyn slowly starts to lift her head at the words of her uncle. "You shall live to see these days renewed." Lifting her face with his hand to look into her grieving eyes, he whispers. "No more despair."

As morning falls on Dunharrow, the sounds of horns ring out for the Riders to depart. The entire encampment below, the Riders hurry to douse their fires, to pull down their tents, and their horses saddled. In the Firienfield encampment, Theoden strides through the camp with Eomer at his side, "We must ride light and swift. It's a long road ahead. The men and beast must reach the end with a strength to fight."

Merry, the small hobbit, prepares a little pony with a saddle and supplies, as he wore an oversized helmet and Rohirrim armor looking both nervous and excited. Seeing the hobbit preparing for war, Theoden breaks from the column of Riders to Merry. "Little hobbits do not belong in war, Master Meriadoc." His voice gentle to not evoke the hobbit.

Merry gazes up at the King shocked and offended by the words of the King. "All my friends have gone to battle. I will be ashamed to be left behind!"

"It is a three day gallop to Minas Tirith and none of my riders can bear you as a burden." Theoden remarked courtly. 

"I want to fight!" Merry pleaded with burning blue eyes of determination.

"I will say no more." Theoden proclaimed to the hobbit before wheeling his horse away to the head of his Riders. 

Bitterly disappointed, Merry stood with his head hung low. A tiny depressed figure amongst the mighty Rohirrim on their large horses ride by. A sea of helmets, shields, and banners stream by the hobbit when suddenly Merry is picked off the ground by his collar and placed him down on the saddle in front of the soldier responsible. 

Merry twists around in his seat, looking up at the solider beneath a helmet and mailed hood. His eyes widened at the sight of Eowyn beneath the disguise of a man. "Ride with me." She whispered into his ear as her eyes stayed focused on the descend down off the cliff.

"My lady!" Merry responded with a grin. 

As Theoden lead his Riders through the valley on the great path between the thousands of tents, Eomer beside the King rallied the men; his voice louder than the racket of men preparing for departure. "Form up! Move out!"

"Ride! Ride now for Gondor!" Theoden cried. 

Thousands of Horsemen ride out after their king like an enormous army of ants. The thundering of hooves echoed throughout Dunharrow and the surrounding mountains. The earth quakes and shakes under the massive army of Men as they make their way out of the refuge.

The sound has been sounded. 

Rohan is on the move by the thunder of the hooves.

 (End of Chapter Seventeen)

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hope you enjoyed the chapter!!! The next will be done soon! :D WOOT!