Daughter of Rohan [Lord of the Rings | Eomer]

Chapter 13

Night was falling fast over the camp of Dunharrow. As dusk had fallen, fires had sprung up all over the encampment, bathing it in warm light. Along with the other women who had accompanied the muster to the camp, Hilde was quickly enlisted with helping to distribute food to the hungry soldiers. Really she didn't mind.

Rank was always quickly forgotten around the cookfires of the war camps; here women of Meduseld, Edoras and the rest of the Mark worked side by side to send their men off with comfort. Hilde prized the look that appeared in the men's eyes when they received what could be their last warm meal from a friendly—and often pretty—face, just as she knew the other women did. It made her feel a little better about not riding with them, even though her heart longed for nothing more. It obviously lifted the men's spirits to smile and sometimes flirt with the women as they gathered their meal, and who was she to deny them that. Their cheer helped her fight off the gnawing realization that many of these men would never see home, or a friendly female face, again. Her place sending the men off with smiles and good food was a painful truth of war that Hilde wished she had never had to learn. But she was a woman of Rohan; such was her reality and the reality of nearly every woman of her country and she bore it with grace.

It was growing late, and finally the streams of men collecting their food had thinned. Hilde was finally satisfied that she could disappear. Gathering up a smaller cookpot and a bowl for herself she took her leave, wending her way through the camp in search of Éowyn or Éomer.

She had finally found the King's nephew amid the circle of tents not far from the King's own marquee, where Hilde and Éomer's own tent was located. She was distracted from her approach, though, when she caught sight of Lord Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli sitting quietly before their own shelters, just within sight of her destination. She faintly overheard the dwarf complaining about still being hungry as she approached. She was fond of the dwarf for his congeniality despite his gruffness and was still grateful for his help in the Hall of the besieged Hornburg. And she couldn't help but respect Lord Aragorn, even going so far as to think of him as a friend. She didn't really know the elf well enough to have formed much of an opinion of him, but he was always kind and was easily one of the best warriors Hilde had ever seen.

"Are you ever not hungry, Master Dwarf," she called out, drawing their attention as she stepped into the firelight.

"Being a dwarf is hungry business, lassie," he said seriously, though the skin around his eyes crinkled impishly. She couldn't help but laugh. She had spied a cookpot over the fire where Éomer and Gamling sat, so with little thought, she approached the fire before the trio, setting the now cooling stew over it to warm up again. A look of anticipation on his face, Gimli stood, approaching to stand at Hilde's side as she checked the stew. As soon as the bowl was in his hands, the dwarf was already beginning to dig in, his murmur of thanks nearly lost amid his quiet grumblings of being famished. Hilde nearly laughed again and Legolas' smile was indulgent as they watched the dwarf resume his seat as he all but began inhaling his food. She could have sworn the Elf rolled his eyes at Gimli's antics before politely demurring when Hilde offered him a bowl.

She turned then to Aragorn, offering a steaming bowl to him. While she had seen the dwarf collecting some food earlier in the evening—along with Legolas, Éomer, Gamling, Grimbold, even Théoden, among myriad others—she hadn't seen Aragorn at all. His face had grown serious again, and his eyes kept wandering to the road through the mountain. She had to call his name quietly to catch his attention.

"Do not fear, My Lord," she said quietly, an impish smile of her own coming to her lips, "Éowyn had no hand in making this." In Meduseld Éowyn's poor cooking was well known, and the source of much affectionate teasing. Hilde remembered her friend had tried making a stew for Lord Aragorn on the road to Helm's Deep, and had seen that he had been guilted into eating said stew from the expression on his face back in Edoras as the other women teased Éowyn. She figured amiable mention of it would bring a smile to his face. It relieved her that she had guessed right, a ghost of amusement breaking through the concern that had been darkening his features. He glanced at the bowl in her hand before taking it with hesitation.