Quickly, my elven feet carried me along the cliff. Aragorn and Legolas ran just ahead of me and Gimli behind me. The trek had not been easy for the dwarf. His short little legs would not carry him as fast or as far as a man's or an elf's would.

Aragorn and Legolas sped up, making their way down the cliff, to the plains below.

I could hear Gimli's breaths struggling behind me, his legs slowing. The trek had taken its toll on all of us, but mostly the dwarf. It was not easy for him to keep up, nor to go such long distances without rest. But we had to persevere. We had to find the halflings, Merry and Pippin. They had been taken by Uruk-hai upon an ambush in which we, unfortunately, had lost Boromir, and Frodo and Sam departed from us to take the Ring to Mordor.

The Fellowship had split up, but remained together in spirit. For the most part.

"Gimli, can you make it a little further, or do you need to rest?" I asked him softly, knowing he would not be fond of Legolas teasing him if he overheard. Gimli grumbled—something he was rather fond of doing—but sped up. I shook my head. Stubborn dwarf.

Before long, our feet had led us to the plains. Muddy orc prints guided our way as we crossed the grassy terrain. We followed the tracks for a ways before something on the ground glinted in the sunlight. The four of us stopped, and Aragorn reached down to pick it up. He brought it to his face to see it clearer.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall."

With wide eyes, I stepped closer to him to inspect the leaf of Lórien pin. Aragorn held it out to me, and I took it, inspecting it some more.

"They may yet be alive," Legolas commented, turning to us.

"Then we must continue. They cannot be far," I stated.

Aragorn began running again.

"Less than a day ahead of us. Come."

Aragorn and I sped our pace, our feet following the muddy tracks some more as they eventually led us up a hill. I could vaguely hear Legolas and Gimli speaking, but the blood rushed through my ears, the pounding of my heart a loud drum beat echoing through my eardrums as I ran, and I could not make out their words.

We came over the top of the hill and paused, looking out over the fields in the distance.

"Rohan. Home of the Horse-lords. There's something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets its will against us," Aragorn stated.

Legolas went a little ahead of us.

"Legolas, what do your elf-eyes see?"

I narrowed my eyes at the landscape before us. Dust stirred up, forming a cloud over the city. This was not good.

"The Uruks turn northeast," I stated, moving closer to Legolas. He glanced at me briefly as I sidled up beside him.

"They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!" Legolas exclaimed.

"Saruman," Aragorn stated coldly.

Legolas and I shared a brief look before turning our eyes back to the scene before us.

This was definitely not good.

——

The sounds of horses neighing and the pounding of hooves filled the air. Aragorn, who had been examining the ground, gestured for us to hide.

Legolas, Gimli, and I filed into a small space in a rock formation nearby.

Just as Aragorn squeezed in, the horses grew louder.

We stayed still and silent as the horses, ridden by men in armour, clambered over the hill, thundering into the valley below. Aragorn waited a moment before leaving the hiding spot and standing on the hill.

"Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?" He called out.

The horse-lords, in one swift motion, turned back. Legolas, Gimli, and I joined Aragorn as the riders charged, circling us with their spears pointed at us. Aragorn and I held our hands up in surrender. One man drew forward upon his horse to address us.

"What business does two elves, a man, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"

Gimli, ever the bold dwarf, spoke up first.

"Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine!"

I smirked slightly as the man handed off his spear and dismounted from his steed. Gimli nodded arrogantly to the man. Aragorn placed a hand upon him to tell him to stop.

The man approached, his gaze burning on Gimli.

"I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

In a swift motion, Legolas drew his bow and nocked an arrow, pointing it to the man.

"You would die before your stroke fell."

The men's spears were trained on Legolas in an instant.

My smirk grew slightly, and I crossed my arms over my chest. This was entertaining.

"Put that away, Legolas," I mused. Aragorn pointed Legolas' bow away from the man, then addressed him.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glóin, and Legolas and the Îdh-Mathora of the Woodland Realm." The man's gaze fell onto each person as Aragorn spoke their names, and it settled onto me with slight curiosity glinting within. I simply raised a brow. His eyes lingered on me until Aragorn spoke again. "We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king."

The man, almost in a resigned voice, said, "Théoden no longer recognises friend from foe." He removed his helmet, his blond hair tumbling out and framing his handsome but sorrowful face. "Not even his own kin."

My taunting expression fell at this.

At his words, the Rohirrim withdrew their spears.

The man told us Saruman had invaded Théoden's mind and clouded his judgement, that he and his fellow Rohirrim were now banished because of their loyalty to Rohan rather than Saruman.

With a frown, I took in his words. It seemed Saruman's reach was extended further than we expected...but really, what did we expect? The minds of men were easy to mould to the whim of a powerful force, whether that force be good or, in this case, evil.

"We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them."

I squinted my eyes in disbelief.

Were Merry and Pippin...

"...Dead?" I asked. With bated breath, we awaited his answer.

The man hung his head.

"I am sorry."

I squeezed my eyes shut. Legolas and Aragorn placed a hand on my shoulders.

"Hiro ron hîdh neñ gurth. May they find peace in death," I whispered, hoping the Valar would hear my words.

——

Laughter and merrymaking filled my ears as Merry and Pippin danced on a table, sloshing their mugs of ale. Food lined the tables, the savoury smell of it wafting into my nose. My heart warmed. After the victory in Helm's Deep, it was nice to have a little celebration to take our minds off the impending battle ahead and the lives left behind.

My heart was especially warmed by the smile of a certain Rider of Rohan, who spoke to one of his men in the corner, a mug of ale in his grasp.

He knew not, but I had begun to think often of him in the short time since we met on the plains. We had only made passing glances toward each other when we did see one another, and I rarely saw him; but I could see him now, at ease, drinking and having a good time. He was a very handsome man.

"You have had your eye on the Man of Rohan all night. Are you not going to speak with him?"

I narrowed my eyes slightly, turning to the smirking, blond-haired elvish prince beside me.

Legolas and I had been friends for over 2000 years. We were roaming the Greenwood as children, and we fought alongside each other as we grew. It was only natural I follow him on this journey with the Fellowship.

Turning my gaze away from him, I looked again to the man.

He was looking at me.

I sent him a smile, and he did the same before turning back to the man beside him.

"If all goes well, my friend, he will come to me," I replied, watching as the man nodded to whatever his companion had told him.

"It seems like he's been getting an eyeful of you as well," a gruff voice spoke from below me. I briefly glanced to a smirking Gimli before looking again to the man.

"Do you think so?" I asked, frowning slightly. I had only noticed the one glance this night.

"He has been glancing this way all night. I am surprised you have not seen with the way you have been staring at him. He gives you little side-glances," Legolas replied, the smirk growing on his mouth as I sighed.

"I'm a dwarf, and I have seen him looking at you. You're an elf. I'm surprised you haven't."

I glanced down at my drink then, a soft smile making its way on my lips.

"I see that smile, lass."

My smile turned into a slight scowl as I looked to Gimli. He chortled, then tipped back his mug of ale with a satisfied sigh. I shook my head.

"It appears your Man of Rohan is on his way over," Legolas commented, hiding his smirk behind his hand as he brought it up to scratch an itch I knew was not there.

"If you were not my prince, I would hit you," I told him quietly. Legolas chuckled.

"And you are the one with the title 'Defender of Peace'," Legolas tutted teasingly. I scoffed, crossing one arm over my chest as I took a sip of the ale in my mug.

"Here he comes!" Gimli exclaimed eagerly. He and Legolas backed away, laughing to themselves.

I sighed, slightly amused. Ever since the dwarf and the elf began getting along, they had been up to no good. Often, they would drag me into their mischief; and occasionally, I was the object toward which they made their mischief.

"Is the Îdh-Mathora your real name?"

I turned my eyes from the mug in my hands to the handsome horse-lord before me, a soft smirk settling on my lips. His eyes shone with interest and intrigue.

"No, it is not," I replied, tracing the mouth of my mug with my forefinger-tip.

"May I know your name?"

My smirk grew slightly.

"Only if I may know yours, Third Marshall of the Mark."

The man smiled slightly.

"Éomer. Now what is yours, my lady?"

I told him my name, a coy smile playing on my lips.

"How did you come by the name Îdh-Mathora?" he asked, his hazel eyes burning brightly, curiosity filling them to the brim.

At one time, I was offered the position of Captain of the Guard, but I decided against it.  I did enjoy being a member of the Guard, but I wanted something more. Seeing as I was one of the most skilled members of the Guard, the King took it upon himself to eventually begin a task force to defend the borders of Mirkwood...outside Mirkwood—this was after orcs had crossed into our borders in order to kill the company of dwarves that had entered. He had me named the leader of the task force. We were a secret force, dedicated to eradicating the orc population before they could come near Mirkwood. We slaughtered many orcs, spies of Sauron, spiders, and trolls attempting to enter the borders.

I was soon dubbed the Îdh-Mathora, the Defender of Peace in Mirkwood. All knew my title, but few knew the manner in which I came by it.

I smirked at Éomer once more.

"That is something you shall soon find out...should your Uncle choose to participate in this war."

Éomer's gaze burned with further curiosity and...something else.

——

Although I had fought in battle many times, I had never truly been able to fight against my anxiety.

Before going into any battle, my chest would seize up, rendering my breath ragged. My fingers would tingle; but as I began any battle, all feelings melted away, turning into a lust for victory. I became ruthless, dangerous. I was not merciful.

As King Théoden called out his orders to Éomer, Gamling and Grimbold, I knew this instance would be the same. My anxiety would soon meld into a dangerous fixation on the battle around me. My vision would be rendered red, blindingly red. It could be frightening, the menacing red cloud of imminence I would be blinded by; but I would not let my fury frighten me, I would ride its high until the war was over and won, as I always did.

"Ride NOW, ride NOW, RIDE! RIDE for RUIN and the world's ENDING!" King Théoden called out. He turned to the enemy before us. "DEAAATH!!"

"DEAAATH!!" We repeated.

"DEATH!! Forth, Eorlingas!"

The horns of the Rohirrim sounded loudly.

My vision became red as we charged swiftly. Arrows rained down around us. Several clinked off my armour and to the ground. The red haze in my vision grew murkier as we clashed with the orc army, spears and swords and arrows flying all around.

Orcs launched themselves one after another in my direction. I speared each one quickly, moving on to the next with agility and aggression.

I skewered orcs with my spear until, as I plunged it through the face of a particularly thick-skinned orc, it snapped within my grasp. I let go of the spear, and I retrieved Aegisess from her sheath in my horse's saddle.

Orcs surrounded me, stopping my horse from breaking through. In one swift motion, the orcs surrounding me were headless, but another wave encompassed me. My sword hacked and plunged, slashed and thrusted until the orcs around me were all dead.

Many more orcs swarmed me.

The red in my vision grew brighter.

I beheaded the first group of orcs swiftly. In the second group, I slashed Aegisess through three of their necks and stabbed two. In the third group, one orc was particularly large, and he was the first to lunge. I managed to finagle my sword through his arm, severing it from his body. He screeched in agony, sinking to his knees. In one swift motion, he was headless. The remaining orcs fled.

Dimly, I could make out King Théoden's voice shouting. I followed the Rohirrim, forming a line as an army of Haradrim atop Mumakil entered the battle. There were around twenty Mumakil, each laden with a tower of Haradrim archers upon their backs.

The Rohirrim charged, but the Mumakil wiped out many, their long, barbed tusks spelling an instant death to those who stepped in the way of their swinging.

I charged my horse beneath one, dodging its tusks. Eyeing its swinging tail in the back, I manoeuvred into a crouched position atop my horse, then, as the horse passed under, I leapt up, grasping the tail firmly. It swung back and forth viciously, but I held on, hauling myself up the tail, and swinging myself onto the Mumakil's back. Haradrim archers immediately pelted me with arrows, but I was swift as I plunged my sword through their necks, climbing up the tower and repeating my actions. They fell from the tower as they died.

Before long, the archers were all dead, their bodies becoming trampled on the ground beneath the large feet of the Mumakil.

Knowing the Mumakil would only cause destruction, I climbed down the tower and plunged my sword through its skull. It dove to the ground, its body halting all motion.

I jumped off quickly, returning to the raging battle.

I could vaguely hear King Théoden's voice as he called for his men to rally to him. My horse had been lost in the fray. It would take too much time to call for him, so I set off, running toward the King of Rohan as fast as my legs could carry me.

As I arrived, a Nazgûl-bird swooped down, grasping King Théoden and his horse within its sharp talons. Before it could lift him up and toss him, I jumped, grasping onto the horse's leg, and climbed up.

"Théoden King, you have to jump off. He will throw you!"

The man was clearly shaken, his eyes wide with fear, but he nodded.

King Théoden jumped off the horse quickly, landing in a ball on the field below. I glanced back up to the creature. It had to die.

With gritted teeth, I plunged my sword up, through its belly and slashed.

Crimson blood and guts rained down on me as it let out an ear-piercing shriek, tossing its body around as it rapidly descended from the sky.

I had to jump. The creature would crush me.

I hurled myself off the horse, tumbling to the ground. Suddenly, sharp pain erupted in my chest, rapidly spreading through my body like a fire licking up spilt oil.

Darkness overtook my vision.

——

It was hard to tell how long I had been out.

When I awoke, my body was wracked with pain, made worse with each shuddering breath I took. I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes together tightly as I did my best to sit up. It hurt so much to move even the slightest bit.

A gentle hand rested on my shoulder, stopping me.

"Hey, hey. Let us help you."

It was Éomer...and Aragorn.

Aragorn grasped one side and Éomer the other. Carefully, they helped me sit up.

"What...how?...What happened to me?" I asked, my mind struggling to think of how I had become bedridden. All I could remember was sudden, blinding pain, and then darkness.

Aragorn smiled sadly, and Éomer lowered his head.

"The Witch-King struck you with his mace," Aragorn replied solemnly.

I sighed, rolling my eyes.

"It seems I bruised his ego by gutting his pet."

Aragorn smiled slightly, and Éomer stifled a laugh.

It occurred to me then, I still had no clue how long the passage of time had been. Had we won the war? Had we not fought in it yet?

"How long have I been...here?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"Nearly a fortnight," Aragorn replied.

I nodded. It had not been very long, but I was sure I had missed much.

"You were fierce out there. It was quite admirable," Éomer told me. The smile lingering on his lips became solemn. "Without you, our King...my Uncle...would not be alive. You saved his life. For that, Rohan is indebted to you."

I scoffed, prompting the man to bare a confused expression.

"Rohan is not indebted to me. You owe me nothing. I was simply doing my duty as the Îdh-Mathora. I am to protect the King, defend the Kingdom, and slaughter the enemy. To me, it is no matter whether I am in Mirkwood, Rohan or anywhere else. My duty is to defend."

"My Uncle will want to thank you somehow. You saved his life, and he will want to show he is forever grateful for it," Éomer told me.

I sighed in resignation. I did not have the strength to argue with the man, and it would not hurt to allow King Théoden to thank me in however manner he decided.

I furrowed my brow again. Still, I did not know the tidings of the war. I assumed we had won, but had Frodo and Sam been successful?

"How is Frodo...and Sam? Did they make it?" I asked. Aragorn smiled slightly.

"They are well, and they were successful. The Ring is destroyed."

I closed my eyes, relief filling me.

"Thank the Eru. I have been worried for those two for a long time," I said softly. While I had been searching for Merry and Pippin, as I fought in Helm's Deep, and as I fought in Minas Tirith, Frodo and Sam stayed in the back of my mind. I worried for the small hobbits. My worries were for naught, but I did not mind. I was glad they had survived and were successful in destroying the Ring.

Middle Earth would never be plagued with the evil of Sauron again.

——

My stay in Gondor was coming to a close.

I briefly wondered what I would do when I returned to Mirkwood. I could no longer serve in the Guard, as my injuries had been too extensive, and I would always have pain. I did not know a life aside from defending and protecting. It would not be easy to assimilate into civilian life.

I looked out to the sky above, watching the twinkling stars. They were like a million tiny lights dotting the dark horizon.

I sighed discontentedly.

I would worry about Mirkwood when I arrived in Mirkwood.

Would it still be Mirkwood? Or would it be the Greenwood of old? I would find out when I arrived, I decided.

And what of Éomer? Was I crazy to think there was something there? My thoughts of him were relentless. I could not stop. I was drawn to him, and I was sure he was drawn to me as well...if I was not mistaken. Would anything come of this...attraction I felt toward him? Would we see each other after this?

I did not want to think of such worrying things.

I sighed again, concentrating on the stars. The stars settled me slightly, but worry still slightly filled me.

The sound of footsteps alerted me to a presence.

"You know, you never did tell me the story behind your being the Îdh-Mathora. I clearly saw your demeanour in battle, but I want to know the story."

I smiled, rolling my eyes as I turned to the man.

"I do not think you would want to hear it," I told him, crossing my arms over my chest with a smirk.

Éomer smiled slightly.

"Of course, I want to hear it. I saw you fight, I know I can believe your story."

I raised my eyebrows, smirk widening.

"You would not have believed me had you not seen me fight?"

Éomer laughed slightly.

"Perhaps I would have, but I will not know until I hear the story," he said. I scoffed.

"Fine."

Éomer smiled then, and I could not help but mirror it.

"Do you remember when the company of dwarves set out to reclaim their mountain?" I asked. Éomer nodded. "When the dwarves arrived in Mirkwood, some orcs that had been following them crossed into Mirkwood as well, and Prince Legolas, I, and our Captain of the Guard fought them. King Thranduil ordered all gates closed; and no one could leave but by his orders. Our Captain of the Guard left, and Legolas went after her. King Thranduil discreetly asked that I patrol the borders myself. Upon doing so, I came upon another group of orcs—around twenty or so—outside the borders. I slaughtered them all and brought their heads back to my King. Thus, he named me the Îdh-Mathora, the Defender of Peace."

Éomer said nothing for a moment, and I could not help but feel as if my story was not as good as he may have hoped it would have been.

"It is not so exciting without all the embellishments people tend to add on," I told him meekly.

"No, it is a wonderful story. I know it must have been a feat to take on twenty orcs at once."

I smiled weakly. I had left out the part where I lured the orcs a couple at a time to a remote spot of the forest to kill them. Even I could not take on twenty orcs at once.

"I could not do it now. My body would not allow me to," I told him softly. Éomer smiled sadly.

"Where do you intend to go from here?" He asked, changing the subject.

I sighed.

"Back to Mirkwood, I suppose, but I truly do not know. I do not know what I will do once I arrive. For so long, my path has been clear: defend Mirkwood, aid Prince Legolas, aid the fellowship, fight. I am uncertain as to what lies ahead of me now. All I have known is cutting, slashing, defending. I know nothing else."

Éomer said nothing for a moment, his thoughtful gaze settled upon me.

"Come with me back to Rohan."

I scoffed, turning my eyes away from the man.

"The people of Rohan have been generous enough. I could not burden them any longer," I told him.

Éomer gently grasped my forearms, causing me to meet his eyes out of surprise.

"Nonsense. You are many things: you are strong, you are fierce, you are devoted, and you are beautiful beyond measure...but you are not a burden. You will not be a burden. My people will gladly have you join us."

I sighed, closing my eyes.

"Why do you wish me to join you, Éomer? I cannot fight anymore."

I looked at him again. The starlight reflected in his eyes, making them look determined, ethereal, and knowledgeable.  His grasp tightened slightly, as if he thought I would run away with his words.

"You cannot tell me you do not feel this...this...thing between us."

I could not help myself but to smirk.

"There is a thing between us?"

Éomer sighed, releasing me from his grasp as he stood next to me. He lifted his gaze to the sky. The soft glow of the stars bathed him, making him look more handsome as it highlighted his features.

"From the first moment I saw you, I have thought of nothing but you. When you saved my Uncle but nearly died, I did not think I would see you again. I was already in despair for my sister...but seeing you like that...I feared I would never be able to hear your voice, see you smile, or tell you how I felt." Éomer's gaze fell to me again. A solemn smile rested on his lips. "And you deny the feelings I know you have. I have seen you watching me. I know you feel for me as well."

I sighed, beginning to feel bad for trying to tease him. The man had nearly lost his Uncle, his sister, his kingdom, and me, and I had to make it harder on him by teasing him.

"I am not one to know how to...deal...with matters of the heart. I have never had these feelings for anyone before, the feelings I have for you. It is not easy for me to express them."

Éomer's eyes shimmered with slight hope.

"But you admit you have feelings for me as well?"

My mind suddenly connived a dastardly thought.

I placed my hands gently upon Éomer's cheeks, his goatee somewhat soft beneath my palms. Slowly, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his. His lips parted beneath mine in shock, but he was soon kissing me back, his hands resting upon my waist. His lips were soft, his slight moustache tickling as his mouth moved against mine.

As we parted, he brought a hand up to rest on my cheek.

"Will you come with me to Rohan?" He asked earnestly.

I nodded.

"Okay."

He smiled.

Éomer kissed me again, this time slowly, tenderly, as if I would crumble beneath his careful touch.

"The first time was sweet, but do the second when you get to Rohan, otherwise I may have to visit a healer."

We parted quickly. Éomer sighed, and I rolled my eyes.

I turned to the intruding elf, sending him the most ruthless glare I could muster.

"Legolas, if you were not a Prince, I would have had your head sent to your King by now."

The elf had the gall to laugh.

"And if you were not my friend, you would be tried for threatening me and treason," the elf replied, smirking. "I will leave, little lovebirds; but wait until I leave before you start again."

I rolled my eyes.

"Would you like me to escort you to your chamber for the night?" Éomer asked as Legolas left.

I smiled gratefully.

"That would be lovely."