'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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Epilogue
The sun hung low in the sky over the Riddermark, a burning globe casting long evening shadows across the land, making the shade beneath the mountains creep like long fingers over the swaying grass.
Looking to the sky, Théadain watched the clouds stain vibrant crimsons as the vanishing sun slipped behind the hills, leeching away what little warmth it cast over the Kingdom. Winter was passing, its bitter chokehold loosening as the green shoots of the coming season fought their way through the thawing earth. On nights like this, it was not difficult to see why the Golden Sun of the Mark was chosen as an emblem of their people by her forefathers.
Idly, she mused that it was around this time of year, near ten years ago, that her father had brought her down to the stables in the middle of the night to watch Folca tumble into the world. In those years she had grown from a naïve child to a headstrong and determined young woman – who had somehow persuaded her father to allow her to pursue the path that called her. Her years as a rider, and now as a Marshal had shaped her further, and taught her harshly of the world and her place in it. Now though, she stole a moment of peace, sat upon the stone steps of the Golden Hall, nursing a cup of ale in her hands as she leaned against her brother's shoulder. It was a rare occurrence now, that both siblings should find themselves in their homeland at the same time. Rarer still that Éomer would join them.
"No sign yet?"
Théadain and Théodred both turned at the soft question, a smile of welcome breaking over their faces at the sight of Éowyn approaching them, her arm linked through the King's. Dressed in a flowing white gown, the White Lady of Rohan appeared every inch the famed beauty that men had come to whisper of – it was a stark contrast to the dust-covered young woman Théadain had been sparring with in the stable yard that afternoon.
"None yet, but there is still time." Théodred hummed, rising to his feet to stand beside his father and extending his hand to help Théadain up. Rolling her shoulders, the daughter of the King turned back to the plains, scouring the horizon for the sign of riders.
"I remember a time when you would wait upon my return at this very spot." Théoden mused softly, the skin around his eyes creasing as he followed his daughter's gaze; "I did not imagine waiting upon my nephew would make me feel so old."
"Nonsense, uncle." Éowyn chastised him fondly, squeezing his arm as Théadain glanced back at her father, hiding her concern with a smile.
"If you keep talking like an old man, we might start to believe you." She teased, choking on her laugh as Théodred elbowed her side playfully, even as the siblings shared a glance that communicated their unspoken apprehension. They both knew that though their father was no longer in his prime years, he still seemed to be aging before his time, making excuses of exhaustion where he had once seemed tireless, the fire in his bright eyes dimming.
"There- look!" Éowyn's exclamation drew the gaze of the siblings back to the plain, a grin gracing Théadain's lips as she saw the distant éored illuminated by the last rays of the sun.
It was always a relief to see the plume of white horsehair leading the company flying in the breeze. Each member of the King's family knew all too well that attacks upon their patrols were growing more frequent with each passing season. It now seemed that the companies of the Mark could barely go a few weeks without losing a rider. A patrol returning safely was now no longer commonplace and expected, it was considered a blessing.
Their land was changing. Théadain could see it and feel it with every fibre of her being. She could not shake the sense that something was coming, a shadow hung over the world of men, but what it was, she did not yet know. Still, she knew that at some point the hammer stroke would fall, in whatever form it may take. All she could do was prepare to defend her homeland in whatever way she could when that time came.
Still, tonight she could press that thought to the back of her mind. Tonight their family was together, and that was not something to be taken for granted.
Twilight had draped itself around the Golden Hall like a cloak by the time Éomer dashed up the steps, laughingly embracing his sister as Éowyn ran to him, before squeezing his cousins in tight holds of their own in turn. So often now he seemed stern, a focused and unwavering leader for his men, but it always brought Théadain joy to see his demeanour relax around his family.
"Westu hál, Éomer." Théoden smiled fondly at his sister-son, reaching to lay his hand upon his broad, armoured shoulder as Éomer returned the gesture.
"Hail Théoden, King." He greeted, bowing his head respectfully even as his uncle squeezed his shoulder affectionately.
"I trust your patrol was uneventful?" Théoden asked as the King and his Second Marshal released each other, receiving a nod in response.
"Refreshingly so, the people of the Eastfold are glad to see winter retreating."
"We all are." Théadain hummed, shivering a little as the chill night air set in. "Come, we were awaiting your arrival before we ate – you can give your report over our meal."
"I am surprised you waited so long." Éomer teased his cousin as they turned to enter the hall.
"If you had been much longer, your welcome may not have been so warm." Théodred grinned as he slung his arm around his older cousin's shoulders, leading him into the warm glow of their home.
Théadain smiled softly as she watched her father, brother and cousins step into the bustling hall, hearing the cries of greeting already being called out to Éomer. Yes, on this night she could lay her worries to rest. Her heart was light, her home was warm, and those she loved stood close.
Whatever may come, and whatever Rohan must face, whatever she must face, she would not be alone.
[A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story, it really means a lot to hear from each and every one of you!
'The Horse and the Rider' definitely felt like a bit of a personal project when I first started writing it, as without any significant romance plot I didn't think there would be much interest (I really miss Aragorn too, I'll have to get back to him soon!) Still, this was an opportunity for me to explore more of our incredible Middle Earth and to add all of the depth and history to Théadain's character that I simply didn't have the time for in 'Rain on the Mountain'.
I really hope you have enjoyed reading this story – if by some chance you read this before 'Rain on the Mountain', you'd better go and read it now if you want to see Théadain's adventures continue!
Thoughts of a sequel to ROTM have definitely been floating around my mind, I miss Théadain and Aragorn's love story and I still have lots of ideas for them, but I still have to decide what form that might take. A 'Fourth Age' fic is quite an intimidating thought as life after the War of the Ring isn't hugely documented, but I do enjoy a good dive into the 'Return of the King' appendices – if I do decide to go down that route, you lovely readers will be the first to know!
Thank you again for all of the love for the 'Lament for the Rohirrim' series, I can't wait to see what the future holds for my adventures in Middle Earth!
