The Second Heir

The Return of the Twin

~.~

Pounding hooves, dripping sweat, and aching limbs. That was all the exiled Riders knew as they continued their journey north.

Eomer drew Firefoot to a halt when they reached the crest of a large hill and ordered for the men to dismount. He looked ahead of them, across the vast plains, and his shoulders sagged. So far we have to go, he thought, his mind drifting to his warm bed and hot food back at Edoras. How is Eowyn fairing under the Worm's rule, I wonder? Still having to hide behind pillars and in alcoves when he passes, while our uncle wastes away, caged within his mind? His hands clenched. He looked back and saw the mountains, a faint blur on the horizon. And how fares the wandering party, did they reach Edoras? Did Emryn get my message to Eowyn?

He paused on the thought of Emryn. The Fiery Maiden of Rohan. Very fitting for a woman of her temperament. He thought of how she first appeared that night, bloody and battered, but with her back straight and her head held high. A Daughter of Kings indeed. He then thought of how she cursed when she was being treated, and chuckled. An uncouth Daughter of Kings. His mind then drifted to their ride, and how she felt pressed against him. She has a wonderful figure. Muscular and firm, not soft and fragile like the others....

As he was dwelling on that thought a rider, one of the scouts, rode up to him breathless.

"There is a rider coming, my Lord!" The lad said, breathless.

"Just one, Aodhan?" Eomer asked.

"Aye, but he is all in white. It could be the White Wizard my Lord!" He replied, his eyes wide with fear. The lad was only fourteen, but his father had been a Rider in Eomer's eored before he was slain by orcs, and his son was eager to take his father's place. Eomer had been reluctant, but Aodhan had proven himself capable of the position by saving another Rider's life. His sharp eyes had proven their worth on more than one occasion.

Eomer nodded. "Get Eothain and bring him to me."

The scout nodded, bowing slightly before taking off. Eomer mounted Firefoot once more, and headed to the edge of the company of riders, all of whom had remounted and drawn their weapons.

Eothain was already amongst those present, and nudged his horse over to the Marshall. "Do you think this could be Saruman?" He asked in a low voice.

Eomer shook his head slowly. "No, he would not come to fight us by himself. He would send his minions to do it for him," he replied bitterly.

The Riders around them shifted, and when the two looked up they saw a rider coming towards them with incredible speed. Unnatural speed. Either it is some wizard's tricks or it is a Mearas.
The rider finally reached them, the riders that were mounted surrounded him like they had done to Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. Eomer rode forward through the ring.

"Who are you, and what is your business here, rider?" He asked, his authoritative persona taking over.

The stranger removed his hood to reveal an old man; however, his eyes were bright and calculating. "We have no time to waste, Eomer, son of Eomund. However, to appease you, I am Gandalf the White, and I come to you in Rohan's time of need on Shadowfax, a Mearas, the Lord of all horses, a gift from your King. Your people have fled to Helm's Deep, and Saruman has sent an army to destroy them. Theoden leads the people, freed from his curse, but we do not have the men to face this evil. We must ride with all haste to the fortress," Gandalf said hurriedly.

Eomer felt a rush of anger at the news. Saruman has gone too far. But a new thought came to him. "Weren't you Gandalf the Grey, not White? The White Wizard is the one who would do us harm, yet a white wizard is here before me now."