"He fell?" Théoden King whispered. "It cannot be."

The King of Rohan staggered back hard onto his throne, the throne given to his fathers by the fathers of this man. And now he was fallen. It was too much to take in. He had just been with them, a few short days ago, for Théodwyn's troth pledge. The King began to shake. No tears came; then moans issued from between bitten lips.

Théodred stood by the throne, appalled at his father's distress. The Steward of Gondor had been ally, yes, even friend, but friend enough to draw out such grief?

"What now for the Éorlingas?" Théoden groaned.

"Father, Boromir and Faramir must be told. A messenger must be sent to Minas Tirith."

"How did he fall? Had he even left our lands?"

Erkenbrand, standing silently behind Théodred, stepped forward. "His company was attacked where the Great West Road crosses the Mering Stream. None survived. Their bodies were found by an errand-rider returning from Gondor."

Finally the tears came. "Wise and valiant was my friend," Théoden whispered. "Tall and proud. True Steward of Gondor. The very blood of Westernesse flowed through Denethor's veins, strong and pure. We will not see another like him, my son. In the times to come, Rohan would have such need of him; he was an excellent ally. And true friend." He wiped the tears from his eyes. "Now, bring the Lady Indis to me. The Steward's sister must know."

Théodred bowed and left the throne room. Hurrying along the halls, he wondered why his father was sending for this woman. Why he had not sent the errand-rider immediately? Why had he been so disturbed by the death of one not of the Mark? He shrugged. Father would know what was best.

~*~

Laughter echoed through the halls and many of the servants smiled. Those smiles quickly disappeared as the clash of steel upon steel replaced the sound of laughter. One of the guards ran into the room and stopped short. Before him stood the Lady Morwen, mother of the king, wielding a sword above her head, whooping with joy. Her opponent was none other than the Lady Indis of Gondor. She also had a smile upon her face, yet sweat beaded upon her forehead and concentration filled her face. He saw the Shieldmaiden, Eledhwen, standing in front of both women, exhorting them to a faster pace. Shaking his head, he left them, hoping they would not need a leech.

Listöwel crowed as her friend parried one of Morwen's thrusts. "You have her now, Indis. Push forward!"

Eledhwen shook her head. Listöwel was quite mistaken. The Lady Indis would be wise to watch herself. None were better than Morwen Steelsheen when it came to swordplay. After all, had not Eledhwen instructed her these last ten years? She smiled. 'I would like to see this one try to best my student. Let her try.'

The women parted, saluted each other and began again. "You are trying to best me quickly so you can rest," Indis taunted her friend. "Your arm is weak from the children you have borne and the life of ease you live. My arm is still young and strong."

Morwen bent her head in laughter. "You will not sway me with your silly words, Indis. You are almost the same age is I. And your feints are as weak as a lamb's!"

They clashed again and this time, Morwen almost stripped the sword from Indis' hand. "Weak as a lamb! Then you are weak as a… a… " She burst into laughter. "I cannot think!"

Indis took a deep breath. The parry had cost her much energy. She rued the day she had stopped practicing. Now, Morwen, who had always been the better swordfighter, was ten times the master. She saluted her opponent and lowered her sword. "I cannot best you, sweet sister-friend. I could not when we practiced secretly in the dungeons of Minas Tirith ten years ago; I would be a fool to try now."

Morwen stepped quickly towards her friend and hugged her. "You were right to stop now. Another moment and I would have been beaten. I am so tired!"

Listöwel stepped forward. "You both looked wonderful. I am glad I did not take up your offer, Morwen." She turned to her friend. "You are even better than you were when young."

"Just a moment," Morwen grumbled. "Are you saying I am old?"

"Of course not." Listöwel laughed and smiled at Indis. "None would ever say you were old. Just tested."

Morwen threw a vambrace at Listöwel who ducked. The servant bringing tea tried to side-step the thrown armour, but the projectile caught her unawares. The tea, pots, cups and saucers, all fell to the floor with a resounding clang. Indis held her hands over her ears as Morwen ran forward to help, stricken that she had caused the accident.

The others stooped and helped as Morwen apologized and sent the servant back to the kitchen.

"I would much prefer a bath before I have my tea." Indis stood, a broken cup in her hand. She placed it carefully on the sideboard, wiped the sweat-soaked black hair off her face, and walked towards the door. "Much as I love each one of you, I need to wash." Sheathing her sword, she smiled and left the room.

~*~

Indis opened the door to the incessant knocking. She had finished her bath but a short time ago and was surprised that her friends were already begging entrance.

"Théoden King bids you approach his throne." Théodred stated loudly when she stared.

A smile crossed her face as she looked at the eager heir to the throne of Rohan.

"If you would give me but a moment or two; I have not yet broken my fast."

"There is no time for trivialities," the lad said, holding the door open and urgently beckoning the woman forward.

She stifled a laugh at the boy's excited behaviour, and decided to reward his devotion. Such obedience was hard to find and should be applauded; she would not tax the lad's patience. "One moment while I fetch my cloak, then I will be there." She turned towards her bed, but stopped as Théodred took her arm. "What means this?" she shivered as cold fear touched her heart.

Another tug at her arm and alarm filled her. "What has happened?" she cried. Her mirth at the antics of the heir turned to anger and frustration.

"Please. You must come to the throne room now. Father is waiting."

"I am the daughter of Ecthelion of the line of Húrin. I will brook no disrespect. Do not claw at my arm as if I were some rag doll."

Théodred stepped back in surprise. None ever questioned him when he spoke in the King's name. "My Lady, forgive me. I will wait upon your pleasure." He retreated to the door.

She regretted her tone. "Go. Tell your father that I will be along presently." Her fathers had given Théoden's fathers' fathers this land she stood upon. She would remind the heir that her royal lineage began long before his fathers even walked this land. She shook her head in wonderment. 'This is ridiculous,' she thought. 'I am playing cat and mouse with a child! My presence is obviously needed, else Théoden King would not have sent for me.' She picked up her cloak, wrapped it around her shoulders, and stepped through the door.

She was aware ofThéodred's breath as he walked close behind, his scabbard clinking against his hip. It seemed he willed her to increase her pace. He was almost as tall as she. This surprised her; she had not noted it before. As they entered the throne room, he stepped in front of her.

Théoden King rose as soon as Indis entered, waved his bowing son aside, and strode towards her, arms outstretched. A look of great pain filled his face; the tracks of tears could be seen upon his countenance.

Her heart constricted in pain. 'Something is terribly wrong,' her mind screamed. 'Oh! Dear Valar, not the children…'

She had not, until this very moment, even considered that one or both might be hurt. She could not bear it. They had gone with their father to the edge of Edoras to farewell him. She had not seen nor heard of them since they had left; Listöwel had taken them for the night. Or had she? That was yesterday, or was it? Her mind reeled in the sudden panic that filled her. She took a quick look around the hall.

Forgetting even to bow, she crossed the space between them in a moment. "What has happened?" she cried. "Where are Boromir and Faramir?" Her voice was growing frantic and she willed herself to calm.

"Please, Indis, sit here with me." Théoden King motioned towards a bench near the great fire in the middle of the hall; the morning's chill still hung in the air.

"Do not toy with me," she murmured darkly. "Tell me the news that brings such fear to my heart. Tell me now."

"Please, Indis, sit first. I will be brief if you but give me one moment."

She sat, folded her hands, and waited.

Taking a deep breath, the King knelt by her side. He took her hands in his.

His actions caused Indis to shake.

"Your brother…" He had been going over in his mind how to say this; he had searched furiously for the right words, yet none had come. He had hoped, by the time she entered the hall, that he would be prepared. He was not. "Your brother has been killed by Orc. And all his company, slain as well."

"Arciryas was with him!" She fell in a heap from the chair to the floor.

Théoden King shouted for the leech. He swore to himself. He had forgotten the woman's husband rode with Denethor!