This chapter is a strange blend of Tolkien and Jackson canon. I had to pick and choose details in order to make this work.

Chapter 6 – Preparations

Early the next morning, Legolas was on his way even before the sun had begun turning the horizon grey. He had promised Éomer that he would return in a fortnight, and he was determined to meet that deadline.

His hood had blown back and his hair whipped itself into his face and tangled in his weaponry strapped to his back. The great sorrel horse beneath him stretched his legs as his feet connected almost silently with the ground time after time, eating up the distance. The lithe rider could feel the rippling of his mount’s muscles as his mighty stallion bore him steadily south-east through the misty morning.

Back in the city, Ceorl, on morning shift that day, had seen the Elven Prince leave the stables. He mounted his own steed and left the city, thinking that he might ride to the border with his new friend. He was more than a little surprised to find, upon searching, that he could barely see the swift courser in the distance. Soon he could see him not at all. He had obviously taken the great horse for less than he truly was.

Dismissing this from his mind, the young soldier of the Mark began the lonely ride before him. As he rode, Ceorl reflected on the coming events. He had never been in battle before, being a newer recruit, and he still did not believe himself to be ready. Still, if war was upon their country yet again, he would do his share, and be proud to do so. He could only hope that death would not touch those he loved too deeply in the coming skirmish.

A fortnight later, almost to the day, Legolas and a force of over one hundred elves arrived in Rohan where they were warmly greeted by the citizenry and Éomer King himself.

Legolas and a chosen few of his captains were lodged in what small space there was to be had in Meduseld, while the rest were housed by willing families of the town. The large host spent the following days in preparation. There was much to do, and the city was a bustle with activity.

Legolas was often to be found in the city, helping his elves make ready. Ceorl, watching him from a distance, could well see that those under the fair Elf’s command loved him, and it was easy for him, who was under the command of another, to see why.

The Prince was never rude, harsh or overbearing without just cause. He was kind to those under his command, never giving tasks that he was unwilling to do himself. He treated his subjects with respect and as equals inasmuch as that was possible with them constantly giving him praise and honor.

The evening before the army was to start out on the campaign, Ceorl and his father Aldor stood together in the cool, misty evening air, watching the last minute preparations in the city. Both Ceorl and his father had been ordered to the front. While Athelwyn, Ceorl’s mother, was proud of them both, she was more than slightly apprehensive. Both men knew it, try as she did not to show it.

At the moment, though, father and son stood together in silence, each simply enjoying the presence of the other. While on duty, they acted as commander and soldier; off duty they were very close as father and child. Every evening, when both were home, they would stand out in the open air and watch the movements in the city and sometimes they would simply watch the sun set. When one was home and the other out, they would watch the sun from wherever they were and simply think of one another. It had been their tradition since Ceorl was in his fifth year.

"Ceorl, my son," Aldor suddenly spoke up, "we are going into battle, for you it will be the first time. I was but a babe during the battle of Helm’s Deep, the battle in which your grandfather died. My mother and I hid down in the caves. I can remember well those fright-filled hours. I was too young to really understand, for I was but in my fifth year, but the feeling of hopeless anxiety was so thick in those caves that one could almost reach out and grab it or cut it with a knife.

"I tell you this, as I have never told anyone, before you go into battle, in the hope that it will better prepare you for what is ahead than anything you have learned or been through thus far. I remember the tearful good-byes exchanged between my parents. I remember my father tousling my hair and telling me to take care of Mummy. I remember watching other families around us, going through so much more, for they were losing, not only their fathers and husbands, but their sons and brothers also.

"Your grandmother, after sending her husband off to his death, steeled herself for what was to come and journeyed around the caves, attempting to be a consolation to other bereaved mothers and wives.

"The one things that stands out in my memory more than anything else, was when Lady Éowyn, Shieldmaiden of Rohan, took me up in her arms. Mother had let go my hand while she comforted a young lady and I had wandered away without her noticing. The Lady Éowyn found me and, seeing that I was alone, she picked me up and held me on her hip.

"When I was in her arms, I remember looking up into some of the brightest, yet saddest eyes I had ever seen. Of course, being so young, I did not comprehend this at the time, but looking back and remembering how it was, I understand now. She held me for some time, speaking softly to me, until my mother found us.

"I was reluctant to leave the kind lady, but I remember that I did not cry for her. She was kind and gentle, but there had been something about her that was neither gentle nor kind. Thinking back now, I believe that she was had a slightly cold quality about her which frightened me, though I knew it not at the time.

"When the battle began, we could hear noises, but we could not make out what was happening. Then there came the terrifying noise of a large blast and the caves shook. I remember my mother falling to her knees and clutching me to her breast. I think at that moment she knew somehow that her husband had died. He had been blown off the wall and killed.

"A short time later, the king and all that was left of his men joined us in the caves. The king had despaired of victory and would not give any orders but to give up all hope. That was when Lord Aragorn incited one last charge. I remember my mother crying aloud that the enemy was coming in as men barricaded the door.

"When I heard the Horn of Helm Hammerhand blow, my young blood stirred and I watched fascinated as what was left of the forces of Rohan charged valiantly out the door, through the enemy lines and to victory as they were joined by Gandalf the White and Lord Erkenbrand with a large force.

"My mother was never the same after that battle. She lived only for me and the memory of my father. I was not surprised when she died at a relatively young age. I was only in my nineteenth year.

"The loss of my father was hard for me. I had known him for only a short time, but he had been my strength and the strength of my mother. The loss of him is one reason I have tried to be more than a father to you, my boy. I wanted you to feel the love of a father as I was never able to feel it. I hope I have succeeded."

He turned and put his hand on his son’s shoulder. "Remember Ceorl, my son, never despair, for even though the enemy has the advantage, if you stand in the right, your cause will prevail in the end. You may not see the end, and your grandchildren may not see the end, but the end will come, and right will prevail."

So saying, Aldor turned and entered the house, leaving Ceorl to his thoughts and the darkness of night.

Early the next morning, Ceorl saddled his horse and slowly rode to the palace. Belecthor had told him that they all wanted to see him and send him off. They were not scheduled to leave for some time yet, and Ceorl wanted to hurry and get this over with.

In the past fortnight, he had been visiting his new friends almost every day and he had grown fond of the entire family, but especially of Belecthor’s sister, Hirilian. He had hoped not to go through more than the parting with his mother for he had ever dreaded saying farewell, and he knew that this was going to prove to be rather difficult.

When he arrived at Meduseld, the family was outside, watching Belecthor and Narion saddle their horses. Hirilian was the first to spot him approaching. Forcing a rather sad smile, she held her hand up in silent greeting. "Good morning, Ceorl," Belecthor declared in false cheerfulness upon noticing him.

"Are you well enough to fight in the front, my Lord?" Ceorl asked as he dismounted.

"Yes," Belecthor answered grimly, tightening his saddle girth. There was silence among them as the young lord elbowed his steed sharply in the ribs, forcing the stubborn animal to exhale. Impatient and irritated, the horse stamped its foot and blew loudly. "Mother does not like it, but I will be there."

"Keep him out of trouble, Ceorl," Lady Annariel spoke up from her place by her daughters.

Bowing gallantly, Ceorl doffed his helm. "I will try my best, my Lady, though I have heard that the task you have appointed me is no easy one."

"That it most definitely is not," Morwen affirmed sadly. She paused and turned to her father. "You will come home, won’t you, Adar?" she asked in a quavering, sadly childlike voice.

Her father pulled her to him and embraced her tightly. "Of course I will, love," he answered into her dark tresses. "I always have before, you know that."

Smiling tearfully up at him she gave him a filial kiss of the cheek and released him. "Of course, Adari. I shall look to the day of your return."

Narion then turned to his wife who stood silently by, watching him, her eyes brimming with tears she would not let fall in his presence. He took her hand in his and led her silently back into the palace for a private farewell. Ceorl found himself alone with the ladies as Belecthor had wandered back to the stable for some forgotten item.

Morwen turned her sad gaze his way. Ceorl had come to love the girl as a younger sister and leaving her would be as heartrending as leaving his own mother. She smiled weakly, giving him a chaste, sisterly embrace, then she turned and ran to her room as the tears escaped her control.

Ceorl was uncomfortably aware that he was alone with Hirilian. She had, as of yet, said nothing, and he was longing for her to speak, to say anything to break the moment, but she remained silent. "Farewell, my Lady," he said finally, wishing he could think of something more to say. He found, now upon having to leave her, that his affection for her had grown terribly out of proportion, and he was having a hard time controlling his emotions.

She smiled again, the tears trailing unchecked down her lovely face encircled by her dark locks. "Farewell, my lord. I shall wait for you with hope and expectation." She paused, holding out her hand to him. He took it in his own and, bowing over it, kissed it gallantly. She suddenly gripped his rough, work-hardened hand tightly in her own soft, lovely one and looked earnestly up into his eyes, blue-grey meeting ice blue. "Please be careful, Ceorl. You have never been in battle, do not think I am deriding you, for I have only fear for you. I remember my fear when Belecthor first entered battle. I have the same fear now, for you. We have known one another for so short a time, and yet it is as if I have known you an age. You must come back."

Then, just as suddenly, she released his hand and then she also fled to the privacy of her room. Ceorl, his mind and heart heavy, mounted his faithful steed to return home. That had been quick, yet painful. He knew that before him was still the parting with his mother, which would be almost just as quick, but all the more painful.

By the time he was half way back to his own home, an idea had formed in his mind and he was determined to carry it out, despite consequences. With that mindset, he turned his mount around and returned to the palace at a smart trot.

While visiting Belecthor during that past weeks, he had come to know some of the royal family, Eorl son of Elfwine being his favorite among the boys. He had found that those in the royal family, especially the heir, had been well-educated and could read and write, rather a novelty among the people of Rohan. He hoped to put that skill to use.

He arrived at the palace yet again, dismounted and ascended the stairs. The guards, having met him recently, bowed him in. Nervously, he entered the royal hall. He had found the royal court nothing if not friendly and amiable, but he still had not managed to become comfortable around the king.

He was somewhat relieved to find that the Éomer King was elsewhere, no doubt gathering the materials needed for the journey. Only Princess Elfwyn was present. She smiled and held out her hand to him. "Ah, Ceorl, how may I serve you?"

Ceorl approached and, kneeling, kissed her hand. "I wish only to speak with your brother, Eorl, my Lady."

"Eorl, I believe, is preparing in his quarters." She turned and motioned to a servant in the shadows. "Take Ceorl to Lord Eorl’s chambers."

"Yes, my Lady."

"Farewell, Ceorl," Elfwyn said. "If I do not see you again before you take leave of us, I want you to know that both my father and my grandfather the king were quite taken with you. They will not allow you to know from their actions, men being what they are, but I want you to know."

"Thank you, my Lady. I will remember and try to live up to your expectation. Farewell."

"Farewell. Return to our fair city before too long, for I believe there is one who will be most anxious to see you."

"And who is that, my Lady?"

"That is not my secret to tell. Go now before it is too late. Your escort is waiting."

Ceorl bowed and followed the servant down several halls until they arrived at a closed door that looked no different than the others. Ceorl was glad he had the servant to guide him, he would have been lost three halls ago.

"Here, my lord," the servant announced. He then bowed and left.

Unsure of what to do now, Ceorl rapped tentatively on the door. "Come in," the reply came, muffled by the heavy wooden door. Ceorl entered to find Eorl standing in front of his mirror, lacing on his armor.

He turned, a smile lighting his face. "Ah, Ceorl, my friend! What brings you to the palace?"

"My Lord, I wish to beg a favor of you."

Eorl turned back to his mirror, struggling with a strap on his shoulder. "You need not beg, my friend. What is it that I may help you with? While you tell me, could you assist me with this, please?"

Ceorl walked over to his friend and began to fasten the lacing. "I would like to write a letter, but as you know, my Lord, the people of Rohan know not how."

"Well do I know this. I remember as a child rather envying those in the lesser classes who need not sit through such boring lessons on such beautiful days. Who would you like to write?"

"I was wondering if I might dictate a letter to Lady Hirilian," Ceorl answered, hiding on the ground as he fastened the ties of his friend’s greaves.

Eorl was in no way really surprised. He, being savvy to the way of the world, had noticed Ceorl’s affection long before Ceorl himself was aware of it. "Of course. Do not worry my friend, I understand. I will write whatever you wish. Would you like it in the Common Tongue or Elvish? I must warn you that my Elvish is rudimentary and most likely would not impress the Lady."

"The Common Tongue would be sufficient, my Lord."

"Very well. Have a seat on the bed, and I shall ready my pen for your oration."

Once the letter was finished and the fine sand dusted over the wet ink, Eorl folded it neatly and sealed it, using a generic stamp. He then addressed the letter to Lady Hirilian and held it out to Ceorl.

"Really, my friend," he said, "you should be a poet, or a teller of tales."

Ceorl flushed only slightly. "With all due respect, I am a soldier, my Lord, with no wish to be aught else."

"I understand the sentiment, but who will hand the letter to the Lady? It would seem rather foolish for you to give it to her and not just tell her yourself, I must finish preparations and the servants would not do it justice."

"I have heard that your sister is a good friend of Lady Hirilian. If you were to place it in her care, I should have no fears for its speedy delivery."

"How clever, my friend. Yes, I shall give it to Elfwyn. Now you must hurry home and take leave of your mother, for it is nearly time to begin the campaign."

Ceorl arrived home, dreading and deploring the task ahead of him. There was nothing he wanted more than to have already had this out, but it was yet before him. Steeling himself for what was ahead, the young soldier of the Mark stepped across his own threshold.

He found his mother, standing at the kitchen table, kneading dough. It had pained him to see his mother work as hard as she did in the past few years. Though he was her only child, he was a grown man and it took a lot to keep two grown men fed.

"Mother, dear?" he said as he entered the room.

She paused in her work and turned to face him, flour covering her hands and wrists. "What is it, Ceorl, my son?" She picked up a towel and began wiping her hands.

"The column will be departing in only a few moments, mother dear, and I have come to take leave of you."

She set her towel on the table and held out her arms to her child. He went swiftly to her and, kneeling as she sank into a chair, he hid himself in her embrace. He could feel her tears falling on his face and longed to chase them from her eyes. He felt the gentle beat of her heart and remembered the days of his childhood spent this way, clutched to his mother’s breast, longing only to remain there where no danger could harm him. "Ceorl, my dearest, dearest child," she uttered sorrowfully, "I give you only one command before you leave me. Do not abandon your father in the coming fight. There are those who say you are too young, that you will desert after your first taste of battle. I do not believe a word of it, but I command you, only to make absolutely sure. Be a honor to your house. Bring only joy and credit to your father, but never forget your mother who bore you. Should you fall wounded, remember that I am thinking of you. Should you never return, I shall always love you. But you must return to me.

"I feel in my inmost heart that something dreadful will happen, but it is only a feeling I have, only a premonition. I know not what it is, but I know that it will somehow change you, whether for good or ill I cannot say."

They heard the army gathering outside and Ceorl untangled himself from the loving arms of his mother. "I shall remember all you have taught me, Mother: kindness, justice, humility, honor, obedience, but most of all, I shall remember the love we share, and, as my father has commanded me, I shall not despair. I shall return to you. Whether alive, or as a gentle spirit to guard you in your sorrow, I shall return."

With one last embrace, Ceorl turned and departed. He found his father waiting for him. Aldor had taken leave of his wife earlier and wished not to have to do so again. He handed Fréa’s reins to Ceorl without a word. Once they were both mounted, they turned and joined the ranks, ready to depart.

When Elfwyn entered Hirilian’s room, she found her friend lying face down on her bed, crying. She crossed to the bed and seated herself next to the prostrate figure, gently lifting her friend until Hirilian’s head was resting on her shoulder. "Control yourself, Hirilian," she said soothingly. "I have a letter for you, and you do not want to get tears on it. Come now, dry your eyes."

Hirilian smiled at her friend and wiped her eyes. "I am sorry, Elfwyn, but it so hard, and I am so weak. Look at you. You are sending your grandfather, father and brother, and yet you shed no tears."

"That is true, for I have inherited my great-aunt’s coldness in some regards, but you have every right to cry."

"You are not cold, my friend!" Hirilian insisted "You are the warmest and friendliest person I have ever met; even the Elves love you. Come now, where is the letter? I believe I have calmed myself sufficiently."

"Until you see what it is, my friend," Elfwyn declared enigmatically, handing her cousin the letter. "I shall leave you in peace to read that, dearest. I shall be in my chambers should you wish to see me later."

After Elfwyn had closed the door behind her, Hirilian studied the seal. There was nothing striking about the stamp, indeed it looked almost as though someone had simply taken anything within reach and used it, for there were no markings whatsoever.

Shrugging and overcome with curiosity, she broke the seal and slowly unfolded the letter. She found neat handwriting covering the page. She began slowly, taking in every word.

Dearest Lady,

I take the time to write you before I leave, only because I was unable to give utterance to all that I wished to say to you as we bid one another farewell. Now that I have had sufficient time to contemplate, I shall first apologize for my not telling you in person exactly what I feel. My only excuse is that, intoxicated by your beauty, I was unable to tell you properly what my heart was longing to declare.

Thinking back over the weeks of happiness we have shared, I can only wonder that I was stupid enough not to notice long before this; for this fault I have no excuse. It was only as I stood before you, this morning, tears coursing down your lovely face that I truly understood.

You have filled my life and my heart as no other ever has. Today, as I took my leave of you, it felt as though saying farewell would kill all joy within me. My heart ached as I saw your sadness, and yet was helpless to dispel it. I wished only to comfort you, and yet I knew that such an action would only make the parting harder, and as your humble servant, unworthy even to tread the ground you walk upon, I felt that it was not my place.

I yearned to take you into my arms, to hold you forever, never to release you. I feel the need rising ever higher within me, and I am thankful you departed when you did, for I do not believe I could have held out much longer.

As you read this, I want you to know that I am thinking of you and looking to the day when we shall see one another again, for that day will come. I shall return from the wars victorious, only to surrender myself to you.

Please consider carefully what you have read and when I return, answer me only this question. Knowing now that I love you, with all my heart and soul, can you continue to think of me as a mere friend? If you find my presence disagreeable, I shall leave you, never to trouble you again. But if you can find it in your heart to forgive me my rather forward declaration of love and not turn me out of your life forever, I shall remain your friend and humble servant.

I do not ask your love, for I know that would be demanding too much of one so far above me. I would not bind you to a fate such as mine, to work your entire life through, never having the comforts you were raised with.

All I ask is your friendship, in the truest sense of the word. Please do not remain my friend out of pity or any feeling of obligation, but simply because you have at most, a sisterly affection for me.

Also, my love, before I ride out, I shall look to the palace. If there I behold you, seeing me off, I shall ride out as your champion, knowing that you have received my letter with no feelings of ill will against me, but if you are there not, I shall leave merely as an admirer from a distance, a lover from afar.

Before giving your answer, I implore you again, consider carefully that what you say. I pray you, do not take me lightly, for I swear to every word of this letter. I shall await the day of my return to you with hope and expectation.

I remain, very truly your humble servant,

Ceorl, son of Aldor

Once she had finished the letter, Hirilian, in tears once more, rushed from the room, forgetting all decorum in her hurry. She knew for a fact that the army was to start out at any moment and she must be there to see them depart.

She reached the steps of the palace with only moments to spare as she saw the black horse she knew so well approach the gates of the city. She saw its tall rider turn to look one last time before disappearing out of the city.

~*~*~*~

Ceorl, while waiting for the command to move out, repeatedly found his gaze wondering to the palace. Each time he looked, he prayed he would find her there, but his prayers went unanswered.

His heart sank with each disappointment, until he was on the brink of despair. He told himself that a soldier going into battle should not worry about the heart of a lady, but it did no good. As the orders were given and the army deployed, he surrendered all hope, yet as he passed through the gates of the city, he turned one last time, as in farewell to a short-lived dream, and was finally rewarded with the beautiful sight of his heart’s desire, her hair blowing in the breeze, seeing him off.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The army made its way to the border, scouts in advance. Once they reached the mountains, they turned and skirted the border, sending out stealthy elven scouts to send word of any enemy advancement.

They had made camp three times and Ceorl was beginning to wonder how long this would go on, when there suddenly came the cry of a starling from somewhere nearby. Prince Legolas, near the head of the column, suddenly called a halt and again the cry came, this time continuing for a few moments before ceasing.

The fair Prince dismounted and crouched to the ground, his garments merging wonderfully with the tall grasses around him. There followed a quite natural sounding discourse between two starlings, Legolas being one of them.

After a few moments, Legolas stood and mounted swiftly. At his command, the entire legion moved forward at a swift pace. Only half a mile later, again the call came; dismount. This time they were ordered to begin making their defenses.

At the sound of that ringing order, Ceorl’s blood leapt in his veins and the hair prickled on the back of his neck. At last, after so many long months of training and the days of travel, battle was close at hand.

Once they had fortified themselves to the best of their ability, digging shallow trenches and building low walls to hide behind, they settled down, archers directly behind the walls, the cavalry just behind them, each man’s mount lying by his side, waiting.

Suddenly there came the shouting of the Dunlandings as they charged, swords in the air. Ceorl buckled his helmet in place and uttered a silent prayer as the archers released the first volley of arrows into the enemy ranks.

~*~*~*~*~

Sorry if you found Aldor’s speech, Athelwyn’s goodbye or Ceorl’s letter rather long and drawn out (Coriel did). I went back over them several times, but I could not bring myself to cut any of it out. If you have any suggestions on how to improve it, they would be most welcome.

greaves - shin guards