Disclaimer: I own none of the LOTR characters from the book (obviously). Don't sue.

Story takes place at the beginning of the second book. :D Read and review people. Read and review.

Eomer turned, he could hear the foul cries of Orcs and Wargs behind him. He had been heading south, back towards the lands surrounding Edoras, the city he had been banished from. Now he called to his men, all who were loyal to Rohan, and they rode north, to destroy the foul creatures that now roamed freely through his lands. They would learn not to enter Rohan, one way or another.

"Nornoro, Laurea! Nornoro!" (Run, Laurea! Run) The rider screamed to her mare. She chanced a look behind her and turned away in disgust, they were gaining on her, as they had been for many hours now. Their wolves did not seem to ever tire as Laurea did. The chase had begun perhaps early this morning, she could not remember.

The trees had begun crying to her of foul elves coming to her, that she should run. Laurea even reared up a few times, sensing their arrival too. She had not believed there could be any foul elves, indeed, even the elves from Mirkwood she had met had not been foul, even though their forest was beset with evil things.

Now she was paying for not listening to the trees and earth. The foul things behind her could not possibly be Elves, yet that is what the trees cried as she had galloped past them, heading south. She had heard of legends it the Golden Wood of the evil Orcs that had roamed the earth, but she had not believed them. She had never seen any in all her long years, indeed she had for almost two thousand years roamed this earth.

Why had she not headed Northwest, back towards her home in Lorien? Surely her friend Haldir would stop these horrid things pursuit. Yet, it was too late for that now. The creatures were gaining on her and turning from her course now to go around the other way would be fatal. She could do nothing now but run on her chosen course until they eventually caught up with her and killed her.

She looked around and could tell by the landscape and the knowledge of maps that she had studied that she was now in the country of Rohan. The Wold, they called this part, few lived in these parts. To the West she could see, far in the distance, Forest Fangorn.

She pondered this for a moment, but the tales she had been told when she had been a child soon invaded her mind. None come out of that forest alive, they had said. The trees there are evil and do not allow people to pass through. They move and talk, it is said, there is something there that makes the trees become alive like Elves or Men or Dwarves, yet they still look like normal trees. Never venture into Forest Fangorn.

She quickly pushed that idea out of her mind as she looked at the yellow-brown grass around her. Where could she go? How was she going to get out of this? What had ever made her want to leave the peaceful woods of the Lothlorien? She had no weapon, nor, should she have had one, would she have known how to use it. She was outnumbered, there was at least a score of the things behind her. She had no choice but to continue to run or to give up and surrender and hope for good treatment.

She looked again at the creatures behind her. They didn't look like the type to give kindly treatment to those they captured. Tears began to stream down her face as she began to lose all hope in the situation.

"Oh, Valar, anta le estel!" (Valar, give me hope) She cried, blinded by her tears. Laurea suddenly jerked to the left as an arrow pierced the ground where before she had been. She was now within their bow range. "Help!" She screamed in vain, knowing no one would hear her in the barren scapes of The Wold.

Then she looked up at the sounds of horses. Over a hill ahead of her five score of horsemen galloped, they carried the banners of the Riddermark. Their spears glistened in the now setting sun as they rode forth to battle.

Eomer saw a white mare fly past him as they rode towards the Orcs. A woman was the rider, he could tell by the white folds of the dress flaring out behind her. He turned angrily towards the oncoming Orcs and ordered his men to charge. They would pay for the terrorizing of helpless women.

The battle was quickly over, the Orcs being outnumbered five to one. He looked upon the corpse before him, he had lost no men, and for that he was grateful. These Men were loyal to him, and each and everyone of him a friend.

"Burn them. Surround them with spears and burn each and every one of their corpses. Leave a head as a warning." He ordered some of his men they turned and, with three of his closest companions, rode off to find the maiden that the Orcs had been pursuing.

He found her half an hour later, lying on the far bank of a small river. Her horse, the white mare, lay on the closest side, it's ankle was twisted and she did not put her weight at all on it. It was lame. He sighed and dismounted, wading regretfully across the river towards the woman.

When he looked down upon her though, he found she was not a woman, but an elf-maid. Never had he seen so fair a creature, but he had never dealt with Elves before of any kind. Her skin was deathly pale and her long blonde tresses were splayed across the ground beneath her in gentle waves. Around her neck was a brilliant gold and amber pendant, the afternoon sun glittering off it temptingly. He looked upon her regretfully, thinking her to be dead after being thrown from her horse. But then he noticed her left hand clutching and unclutching a long reed from the river bed.

"Marik, fetch me bandages and healing herbs. Quick!" He ordered one of his companions as he knelt beside her still form. He lifted her head gently into his lap, inspecting the wound that marred her perfect face. She'd hit her head off a rock, he thought sadly, scooping some of the river water up in his hand to wash away the blood.

She moaned softly as the water brushed off of her, moving her hand towards it's source. She gripped hard upon Eomer's hand, her knuckles turning white at the pressure. He whispered comforting words in her ear and the grip loosened a bit, but still firmly held to him.

He sighed and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her up the bank of the river onto the brown grass that grew there. He sat down and moments later Marik came to him with bandages and small pouches of healing herbs.

"What are Lorund and Hattim doing?" He asked quietly, taking the bandages and pouches out of his friends hands with the one the maiden was not clutching. He felt strangely energized, as if an adrenaline rush was pumping through his veins. Yet it had now been three quarters of an hour since he had slain the last Orc.

"Their tending to her mare. . . Do you know what she's doing, My Lord?" Marik asked quietly, eying her hand.

"Nay, but if it gives her comfort I will allow her to hold on." He said softly, unrolling one of the bandages his friend had given him. "I have little hope that she will survive this injury. Wounds to the head seldom leave the victim unscathed."

"I have only read, sir, never witnessed, but it is said that Elves can draw life from things. Earth, water, wind, trees, and well . . . people sir. I think she might be sharing your life force." Marik said hesitantly.

Eomer looked down at the being in his arms, indeed the color of her cheeks was already beginning to look less pale. Could that explain the energizing feeling he felt? Her using magic or some such other power to borrow his life to heal her. He thought back to when he had found her, clutching tight against the reed in her hand. Then when he had poured water on her wound, she had turned towards it and reached out for him.

"I don't think she means harm, Marik" He said after a moment.

"No, sir, neither do I! Elves harm none but their enemies, so it is said." Marik said quickly, "I just thought you should know, sir."

"Thank you, Marik. Come, help me bandage this wound. It will be quite tricky with only one hand to work with." Eomer said as he lifted her to a more comfortable position.

Marik knelt down beside Eomer, taking the bandage from his friends hand and wrapping it gently around the elf-maids head. The blood from the wound soon soaked through so they bandaged it again with a thicker cloth.

"We will make a fire and concoct a potion to ease her pain." Eomer said softly, lifting the light form in his arms to cross the river again.

Marik walked behind Eomer as the crossed the river but in the middle, where it got deep enough that the maidens hand entered the water she began to struggle against him, as if she wanted him to simply drop her in the water below.

He turned slowly, walking into a deeper spot in the river where the water flowed up to his chest. Eomer held her tightly in the current as the water flowed gently across her body. She gasped and briefly came to consciousness, looking up into his face.

"You came." She whispered quietly and smiled slightly. "Vala." They she fell back into unconsciousness.

Eomer sighed, holding her to his chest and walked out of the rushing water to his three companions. "How is the horse?" He asked gruffly, the vibrant blue of her eyes still burning in his mind.

"Lamed, sir. She is in much pain. She stumbled on the rocks of the river, is what I can tell. She did run by us rather fast, wouldn't have been able to slow and cross the river carefully. I know I sure as Hell wouldn't with a score of Orcs behind me if I was weaponless." Hattim answered honestly, he was a true horse master. It was even said that he could occasionally speak with the beasts if they would allow it.

"Lorund, ride back to the others and bring them here when their done. We will camp here tonight." Eomer ordered, gently setting the elf-maid down on the grass. Then he kicked some stones together into a circle and got to work starting a fire. Lorund rode off on his brown stallion, galloping off towards the others of the Riders of Rohan.

Eomer looked upon the elf-maid with worry, she had begun to pale again. The fire flared and came to life moments later and he scrambled over to her. He cursed himself for taking her into the river now. It was February and the night would be very cold. He grabbed a blanket from his saddle pack and wrapped it around the Elf, hoping it would warm her enough. Her hands grabbed both of his wrists though as he wrapped the cover around her.

A small laugh escaped his lips as he looked at he scene. He was standing, half bent over to put the blanket around her and she was sitting on the ground clutching his wrists in a death grip. She would not let go. He sighed and sat down behind her, drawing her into his lap to offer more of his life source if she needed it.

"Well well, finally found yourself a bride?" Hattim asked in jest, coming back towards the fire from tending to the wounded horse.

"Quiet, Hattim. She is injured and drawing from me life to heal her wounds." Eomer barked.

"Should I pry her off you then, My Lord?" He asked again, contained laughter sparkling in his eyes.

"Only if you wish for her to cling to you." Eomer replied.

"Oh, gladly. She is a pretty thing afterall." Hattim said with a smirk, a hand running over her hair.

"Get lost, Hattim. Start cooking the meal if your doing nothing else." Eomer said sharply.

"Marik has already began, but I will go help him since you seem to be . . . busy at the moment." Hattim said in jest as he went off to Marik, who had started a second fire to cook on.

"A! Elbereth Gilthoniel! silivren penna miriel o menel aglar elenath, Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!"

She whispered softly in her sleep. Eomer looked down on her, wondering if she was awake. But her eyes were still closed and her cheeks still pale in the light of the fire and the moon.

An hour later the rest of his men arrived at the river bed. There was jesting and such as Hattim had done when they saw the image of their Lord with the Elf within his arms but after a while it died down and they ate their meal and drank their brandy by the fire.

"Tomorrow we ride to the forest of Lorien in the North." Eomer called in a loud clear voice over the laughter and joking of the men.

A silence fell over them as though they had all just been stuck dead. Finally Hattim spoke out. "Have you gone mad? You know what is said to be in there! No one ever comes out alive, is what they say."

"Is your courage faltering, Hattim?" Eomer asked roughly. "They will not harm us because of her." He nodded to the woman in his arms. "She is of their kind, they will know what to do with her. We may even get a reward."

"But the witch!" Cried another from the crowd.

"Would you rather ride farther and search for the hidden realm of Imladris to drop her off in the lore city of Rivendell? Or ride even further North to Mirkwood? There is said to be Elves living in that dark forest as well." Eomer asked. "Lorien is the closest Elven realm that I can think of, which seems to stand that she would be from their. There is no way she would ever have gotten this far south without a weapon if she was not from that wood.

"You may stay if you like, but I am riding to Lorien. If you wish to stay behind you may wander Rohan in exile alone. Lorien is where I am headed, thats final."

In the end only two decided to stay behind, the tales of their childhood to strong for them to ignore. So in the morning, they were asked to watch over the lamed mare until the rest returned. The Riders of Rohan set off early, the sun had not yet risen over the horizon.

The elf-maid was placed on the saddle ahead of Eomer and they rode at a fast gallop for many hours. They rested only twice that day and as the sun began to set they heard the cried of Orcs once more.

Eomer handed to elf-maid over to Marik, ordering him to ride due East and not to return until he saw the smoke and flame rising from the bodies of the Orcs. Marik nodded and galloped away to the East, leaving the battle behind him. Then Eomer began to plan. They would sneak up and surround the foul creatures then charge all at once, driving them into themselves. None would be left alive.


AN: Sooooo, what did you think??? If you liked review!!!! And if you want more of my writing read Mel Nye Oira which is a Legolas romance. :D