'Where now the horse and the rider?'
Prequel to 'Rain on the Mountain'.
Before the storm clouds of war gathered.
Before the growing shadow in the East took form.
Before the Riddermark knew the choking hold of a wizard's malice.
Before the illegitim...
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Chapter 9
Théadain grimaced as she jerked her sword from the limp carcass of the orc that it had been embedded in, a shudder passing through her body at the wet sound of steel dragging across flesh.
"The last of them ran West, into the trees across the river." She muttered as Fenmer strode to her side, wiping his own bloodied blade on a rag and tossing the cloth to her as they both stood ankle-deep in the shallow ford of the River Isen.
"I won't pursue them; it would be a waste of energy to leave our land for only a handful of orcs. They won't return this season." Her mentor murmured, clapping a hand down on her shoulder as she cleaned her blade. "You did well, Théa."
"I always do well." She smiled teasingly up at him as she sheathed her sword, reaching to pull her helmet from her head and shaking out her copper curls, her locks almost a perfect match to the autumnal foliage of the trees that surrounded them.
"Don't think I have forgotten your first attack." Fenmer chuckled fondly, "It has only been three years."
"Do not remind me." She groaned as she turned to walk with him from the river, bending to drag the body of the orc with her so that it would not rot and pollute the water for those downstream. Only a season after she had waved farewell to Boromir and her brother as they rode out from Edoras, she had joined with her mentor's company as a fully-fledged Rider. It had been at this very place, at the Fords of Isen, that they had tracked down a small band of orcs. Naïve and eager to prove herself, she had chased one into the woods on the Western bank of the river. The kill had been clumsy, vile and messy. It was the first time she had ever laid a sword to another creature. In her mind it would have been no different to shooting down a deer with an arrow, but when it came to finishing the actual task, it had been quite different.
Fenmer had found her bent double, one hand braced against a tree as she vomited violently, her stomach churning as the squeals of her fallen foe ran through her mind, the sight of dark blood and the resistance of muscle, skin and bone as she had hacked desperately with shaking hands. She had expected him to laugh, but he had stood by her side, rubbing her back with one hand as the other had scooped her long hair out of her face, letting her sway there until her stomach had nothing left to give up. Even when he had walked back with her to the company, she had braced herself for mockery, but a warning glance from Baldan and a sharp reminder that no small number of their company had left their first fights unscathed left her with only reassuring nods as she re-joined her comrades.
"You have come far; I won't let you forget that." Fenmer smiled proudly as he helped her haul the carcass of the orc onto the pyre that their company was already building. Stood beside him in her armour, he could truly say that the daughter of Théoden had grown into a fine warrior and a trusted member of his closest Riders. It had been an easy choice to make her one of his captains as the most recent summer had passed. Not because of her bloodline, but because she stood out amongst his company. She had a quick mind and thrived upon planning strategic attacks when word reached them of orcs or Wildmen bothering the Westfold. Of course, she was still young, only twenty and one years, and there were more experienced and more level-headed Riders he could have chosen, but she complemented Baldan, his first captain, well. The older man had a calm temperament that balanced her headstrong one, and she in return pushed him to take greater risks.
