Like a Blade Forged in Fire

Chapter 15

There was no moon that night, and though the Rohirrim had better night vision than most, they had to stop for a couple of hours when the horses were stumbling too badly. It was no surprise that the orcs had chosen such a time to attack, they liked the darkness. Éomer just hoped his people had heeded the warning of the scout and retreated westward.

As soon as the faintest blush of dawn appeared in the east, they set out again and by early morning reached Stánbeorg, the rocky hill at the foot of the Downs he had designated as a meeting point. Here the plains of Rohan rose towards the Wold in gentle waves, but in places the bedrock thrust through the carpet of grass and wild flowers covering it. A stream rose at the foot of the hill, bordered by reeds and sedges, and meandered away towards the east. Éomer's men took the opportunity to water their horses, feed them some of the oats they had brought along and have a brief rest themselves.

From groups of herders they had passed during the night Éomer had discovered that no attack seemed to have taken place yet, so he sent out more scouts. The messages he had dispatched the day before now began to bear fruit, as more and more riders from other camps started to trickle in. Éothain at once set about organising them into small companies, each with a captain.

As he surveyed his growing force from the viewpoint on Stánbeorg, Éomer considered his options. It was a delicate balance between waiting for reinforcements and striking as quickly as possible. First they needed up-to-date information though.

They got it at noon when another scout rode in on a lathered horse. To Éomer's surprise this was a girl, surely no more than fifteen winters old. Freola, the rider who had brought them the news of the orc invasion, hugged her.

"My sister Goldrun," he introduced her proudly.

Éomer was forcibly reminded of Éowyn at that age. The girl had gathered up her blond hair in a braid and kept herself ramrod straight while she delivered her report in a clipped voice, including precise details about the location of the enemy and their number.

He shuddered inwardly at how close she must have been to gather such extensive information. Her brother realised as much too, for his face lost all colour as her tale emerged. A true daughter of Eorl this. It was not only the men of the Mark the orcs would learn to fear.

As anticipated, the enemy had crossed the Anduin at the South Undeep, where the river grew broad and shallow, and was now camped on the western shore. Goldrun was able to point out their exact location on the map.

Éomer came to a quick decision. "We ride at once."

If they waited longer, he would have more men, but would lose the opportunity to surprise the orcs and cut them off before they could do any harm to his people.

They ate a hasty meal, then set out. As they drew closer to the uplands of the Wold, the land became more hilly. This part of the Emnet was sparsely populated with only a few temporary camps. If Éomer and his Marshals hadn't decided to deploy additional scouts, they might not have known of the orcs for another day or two.

Towards the middle of the afternoon, Éomer suddenly spotted black smoke rising into the air ahead of them. He exchanged a grim look with Éothain.

"What is there?" he ask Freola and his sister, who were riding at his side.

"It's a small camp of herders," Freola answered. "But I warned them yesterday."

"They had all left when I passed through this morning," Goldrun confirmed.

Éomer frowned. It seemed stupid of the orcs to set fire to the place and risk attracting the attention of the Rohirrim. Of course they might have been angry at not finding anybody there, but it could equally well be a trap. Orcs were quarrelsome amongst each other and cowardly when faced with superior force, but possessed surprising cunning.