Rohan, Westfold, 3015, Third Age

"Forth Eorlingas!"

The sound of approaching hooves, roaring like thunder on a stormy day hummed like a heavy base drum through Éostans body, bringing him out of unconsciousness. The voice who had exclaimed the battle cry echoed through his head. Slowly the young boy regained his strength and his eyes shot open. He knew that voice. Only once had he heard it before, but he would always remember it. It was the voice of Lord Théodred, Prince of Rohan and Second Marshall of the Mark.

A great joy filled Éostans heart. Help had come! His Lord had come to defend the people. Those Orcs would not live to see another day. Surely the éored of his Lord would be skilled enough to defeat those foul beasts that had attacked his beloved home.

He felt how he was dropped to the ground and saw how the Orcs also left Eadelm alone. They rushed to the entrance of the village. The noises the Orcs were making now were different than before. Fearful, terrified, as if they were in a panic. Then the Rohirrim came like a thunderstorm through the entrance, with Théodred in the front. At his side was his cousin Éomer, the Marshall of the Eastmark, who had come to the Westfold for a visit. Together they raised their swords and plunged them into the bodies of the Orcs.

Éostan sat on his knees on the ground and watched how the Orcs were crushed like flies. He pushed a fist into the air and cheered enthusiastically. In an unspotted moment he crawled over the ground to Eadelms side and looked at her. Tear sprung into his eyes. The young girls face was bleeding from several cuts and bruises. She had them all over her body! Of her clothing only a few shreds had remained. And she lay there lifeless. Éostan pulled his shirt off and tried to cover her with it. He pulled Eadelm into his arms and held her tightly. Softly he started speaking to her.

"Eadelm, look. The Lord Théodred has come and the Lord Éomer as well. Were saved!"

She did not answer. Not one move was made. The young boy started crying out loud, rocking Eadelm back and forth like a baby. He sat there with her in his arms in the middle of the fight.

Both Théodred and Éomer had dismounted their horses and were now fighting on the ground in melee combat with their foes. They were fighting side by side, showing the Orcs that they should not have messed with the Rohirrim.

Slicing off an Orcs head, Éomer turned to his cousin and grinned. "Cousin, it seems we have them beat."

The Second Marshall of the Mark parried off an attack with his shield and immediately after went on a counterattack with his sword. It was already dripping with blood of the bodies he had already slain.

"Mayhap, he answered. But we shall kill them to the last."

A sudden scent of something burning and the sound of terrified screams reached Éomer and while he fenced off another Orc, he looked around to see where the scent and the screams were coming from. His heart stopped beating as he discovered it came from a great barn. It was on fire and there people inside! Immediately the young Marshall starting rushing towards the burning building, keeping the remaining Orcs off his back who tried to keep him from reaching the barn.

"To me, Eorlingas!!"

Théodred looked up as he heard his cousins voice. Then he saw what had alarmed Éomer. Instantly he started to give orders. One half of the éored would deal with the remaining Orcs, to keep them from attacking Éomer and the barn, while the other half would help Éomer free the villagers and stop the fire.

Éomer cursed silently as he discovered the barn was locked and sealed with heavy bars. With all his strength he tried to remove the bars. The fire was spreading rapidly because it was a wooden building. Relief came when his cousins men came to his aid. With the help of the men the doors could soon be opened and the people could leave what they believed was a secured shelter.

The fight had ended as well. Everywhere one looked one could see the corpses of Orcs and Rohirrim. Women knelt down at the sides of their husbands, fathers, brothers, sons and wept over them. The two Marshalls of the Mark met up with one another, leaning on their swords. They looked around and watched the scenes that displayed before their eyes.

"Many of the men of the village are dead. A pity. I wish we could have come here sooner."

Théodred gave his cousin a friendly punch on the armoured shoulder. "It could not be helped. We did everything in our power. In rough times the innocent people suffer as well, no matter how dearly I would see it not so. At least the village itself has not suffered too much damage."

Éomer nodded to these words, for they were certainly true. But nevertheless the thought of the deceased people remained in his head. How many of the dead died unnecessarily? How many didnt have to? His thoughts were disturbed by a crying voice.

"Help, somebody help me!"

The young Marshall looked at his cousin and they both hurried themselves to the one whom the voice belonged to. Amidst the dead body of Orcs the two men found a young boy sitting on the ground with the body of a young girl in his arms. He was rocking her back and forth, crying and constantly calling out to her.

Éostan looked up, his eyes filled with tears. Nevertheless he managed to see clearly who stood before him.

"Please, m'lord. She needs help. I don't know what's wrong."