Sword and Arrow

Chapter 54

Once again, the King of the Rohirrim was in full armor, helm held in the crook of his arm, sword at his waist. "Assemble the army at Dunharrow," he instructed Éomer as they descended the front stair on their way to the king's stables. "As many men as can be found. You have two days." Théoden took him by the shoulder as Éomer nodded and turned away. "On the third, we ride for Gondor... and war."

"Gamling," Théoden said as Éomer left. "Make haste across the Riddermark. Summon every able-bodied man to Dunharrow."

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In the stables, Aragorn squinted at the slim blonde figure that led a horse outside with the other soldiers. "You ride with us?" he asked Éowyn.

"Just to the encampment," she said breathlessly. She had been quiet for the last few days - hadn't said much to him. "It's tradition for the women of the court to farewell the men."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows. For some reason, he didn't believe this. He reached over and flipped up a blanket, revealing the hilt of a sword. Éowyn immediately covered it up again, glaring at him. He merely smile, withdrawing his hand.

"The men have found their captain," she told him. "They will follow you to battle, even death. You have given us hope."

Aragorn smiled tightly and turned away. All his life he had been a symbol for hope, yet it was the one thing he could never find within himself.

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"Excuse me," Merry said, quietly approaching Théoden. He had been waiting for this moment, but the king had been busy all day with his lords and generals and soldiers. "I have a sword. Please accept it." He knelt before Théoden, who stood in full armor on a watchtower surveying the preparations for war. "I offer you my service, Théoden King."

Théoden smiled, years lifting off his brow. "And gladly I accept it," he said. "You shall be Meriadoc, esquire of Rohan."

And so the first of the Halflings made their names and titles known in the great kingdoms of the South.

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"Horsemen, hmph!" Gimli huffed as Legolas prepared Arod for war. "I wish I could muster a legion of Dwarves, fully armed and filthy."

Legolas helped Gimli up into the saddle, then swung himself up. "Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear it already marches in their own lands." Gimli was silent behind him. He thought of the constant threat by the men to the East, the relations with King Thranduil that were still tense, the wyrms from the North that still damaged the farms of the men of the Long Lake. Would the newly forged peace in the Lonely Mountain survive this war too?

"So it is before the walls of Minas Tirith that our doom will be decided," Théoden said to himself. Snowmane stood at the front of the host, ready to bear her king and his army to battle. The king took one last glance at the flag flying over his hall, green as grass. Would he live to see this golden hall once more?

"Now is the hour!" Éomer called, riding up and down the ranks of the Rohirrim. He had been restored to his previous positions and honors and now wore gilded armor, his plumed helmet held under one arm. "Riders of Rohan, oaths you have taken! Now, fulfill them all! To Lord and land!"

And the host of the Rohirrim rode for Dunharrow: blond soldiers and noble generals and princes accompanied by a ragged ranger, a princess destined for war, and a simple but courageous hobbit.

Hope was the only thing keeping them alive.

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forgot to post this one, ooops!