Chapter 60. Red Arrow for the Riddermark

The message travelled swiftly down the King's highway, pausing only for a fresh horse at each guard outpost, and change of rider every half day. A bare five days out of Bree, two riders set out from the last outpost before Rohan, one to take the message to the Golden Hall, and the other to continue at speed to Gondor. They were met at the border of Rohan by a small group of the Rohirrim; after swift explanation, two of the Riders of Rohan accompanied each errand rider along his way, to avoid further delay by eliminating the need for further explanation to other guards of Rohan encountered along the way.

The King's messenger was encouraged to hear that the King of Rohan was at the Golden Hall this day, and that he did not have to hunt to the far reaches of the Mark to deliver his message. He rode on through the early hours of the morning, and as the Sun rose from her rest he saw the glad sight of the mountains of the South, their white tips gleaming rosy in the sunrise, the home he had not seen since taking assignment to his outpost some years earlier.

Before him yawned the wide glen guarded by the Golden Hall, a dark mass rose before him, silver stream caressing its foot, crown of gold gleaming from its top. As his horse's strides ate away the leagues, the mists that rose from the grassy hills burned away and he could see clearly the dike, the mighty wall, and the thorny fence surrounding the courts of Edoras, and he heard his escort give a shout. Pulling his horn from his belt, he gave a great blast, to hear an answering sound of trumpets on the breeze.

His tiring mount put on a fresh burst of speed, and they galloped to the foot of the rise, across the silver stream to the wide rutted track leading upwards. Here his escort pulled their horses to a walk, and past the silent mounds of the former kings of the Mark they walked their horses. The messenger controlled his urgent desire for speed, trying to content himself with the fact that at least his mount would have a chance to catch its breath for the last haul up the winding way to the gates of Edoras.

The guards at the gate, seeing his escort, waved him through, and he rode his lathered horse to the very doors of the Hall, pulling the message from his saddlebag, jumping down to climb the long stair. The Doorward stopped him with upheld hand, saying, 'Wait here, I will announce you to the King. I bid you to lay aside your weapons.' The heavy doors were already open to admit the morning breeze, and the guard disappeared within the Hall.

The messenger cast off his sword and his knife as he waited. The guard returned quickly, beckoning the messenger to follow. They proceeded into the Hall, but not all the way to the dais, where he had expected to find the King of Rohan upon his gilded chair. Instead, King Eomer strode forward to meet him. With him was a tall, golden-haired woman like enough to be his sister, and a grey-eyed man of Gondor whom the messenger recognised as Prince Faramir of Ithilien.

He fell to one knee before the King, holding out the black-feathered arrow with red-painted tip. 'Hail, Lord of the Rohirrim, friend of Gondor!' he said. 'Targil am I, errand-rider of King Elessar, who bring you this token.' Eowyn, for that is who she was, took her husband Faramir's arm and looked up at him, disturbance writ plain on her face.

'The Red Arrow... War?' the King broke in, for the borders had been peaceful this past year or two and he had heard of no troubling of Gondor whilst the King was in his northern realm.

'War of sorts,' the messenger replied. 'The land of the Halflings has been besieged by drought these past three years, and now famine stalks the land. The Ernil i Pheriannath has appealed to the King for aid, lest hunger should slay his people and the land be left empty and desolate.'

'The Holbytlan are starving?' King Eomer said, and his sister gave a soft exclamation. 'This is grievous news, indeed. Rise, Targil, and walk with me.' He nodded to his sister and her husband to follow. The little group walked slowly to the entrance of the Hall as they talked, to stand upon the wide porch in the sunshine, looking out upon the rich fields of Rohan.

'The North-kingdom is in great need,' the messenger said, 'not only the Shire, but Breeland as well. Often the Rohirrim have ridden out to help Gondor in time of war, under Steward, and then King, but now the King asks the Rohirrim for their strength, and speed, and generosity lest his subjects the Halflings should perish.'

'How can we help?' Eomer said. 'We will do whatever we can.'

'We have heard that your storehouses are overflowing, as ours do in Gondor. The King shall fill the holds of ships with foodstuffs, sail them down the Anduin to the Sea and along the coast, though they must brave the winter storms to do so, to the Havens. Up the Baranduin would be better, but the drought has lowered the River and unless there is rain, the ships will not be able to find passage. All this will take time, which the Halflings do not have. Waggons from Rohan could reach the Shire and Breeland in a month, perhaps, if you have the waggons ready at hand.'

The King nodded. 'We will gather wains from the ends of the Mark,' he said, 'from every holding and every farm, and fill them with food. How is the road from here to the North-kingdom?'

'Clear and dry,' the messenger said wryly. 'No sign of rain, yet, though October is upon us.'

'The North-kingdom's bane may become their blessing,' Eomer said. 'Dry roads make for swifter passage.' He saw the messenger sway slightly. 'But you are weary. Take food and rest, we will care for your mount. I will send word throughout the Mark, and we will fill as many waggons as may be. Tomorrow you may carry word back to the King that our waggons will depart a week from this day, and will make all possible speed northwards along his road.' He nodded to a guard, who indicated that the messenger should follow him.

Then King Eomer called a number of his guards to serve as messengers, to set in motion his part in the plan to save the Holbytlan, the Hobbits, to whom his people owed so much.

Eowyn put a hand on his arm. 'How can we help?' she said urgently, her husband nodding at her side.

'I gather the message already continues on to Gondor,' Eomer said. 'The work here will be to gather the waggons and foodstuffs.' He looked down at the paper that had encircled the shaft of the arrow. 'The hobbits ask for shipments of grain, for themselves and their starving animals, but I should think much more would be needed. What sorts of food, besides grain, will travel well?'

'Root crops,' said his sister. 'Potatoes and carrots, to start. Legumes, dried beans, as well. And why not wheels of cheese? We have many, aging in the caves, and they will travel if well-wrapped. Dried fruit... and apples, which we are harvesting even now, will travel well if properly packed.'

'I will need to arrange an escort, as well,' King Eomer said. 'Such a caravan would be tempting to outlaws, who still lurk in the wilderland to be found in between the settlements.' He smiled. 'Perhaps I will lead the escort personally,' he mused. 'I have never seen the Northland, though Master Meriadoc most graciously invited me to visit should I ever turn my horse's head that way.'

'I have not travelled that way, myself, though I'd promised the King I would visit Lake Evendim and Arnor at some point,' Faramir said. He turned to Eowyn. 'What say you, wife? We have travelled this far, and fair Ithilien continues to prosper without our constant attendance. Shall we fare a bit further, and put off our return to Ithilien until after Yule?'

Ewoyn's grasp on her husband's arm tightened, and she smiled into his eyes. 'I should like that,' she said.

'Good,' Faramir nodded. 'I shall send a message to my steward to that effect. It shall be good to see Master Peregrin once again.'

'And Master Meriadoc,' said his wife firmly.