Daughter of Rohan [Lord of the Rings | Eomer]

Chapter 15

As she had waited on the walls of the Hornburg when Saruman's host approached as a roiling, writhing mass of torches, Hilde recalled thinking there was little in the world that could follow that would seem more terrifying. The army of Uruk-hai melting out of the night with guttural roars and thunderous steps had haunted her nightmares since.

But now as she sat upon Windfola looking out upon the host that besieged the White City of Gondor, the memory of the host of Isengard paled in comparison. It was somehow worse in the growing light of dawn, to see such a fathomless sea of orcs arrayed before Minas Tirith, while thick black smoke seemed to cover the White City like a shroud. No darkness masked their numbers and overhead great winged beasts flew with horrid grating cries. For a moment Hilde struggled to breathe, especially as the monstrous ranks shifted in response to the Rohirrim's appearance over the crest of the hills bordering the Pelennor Fields. Even from up on the hill they could hear the blood-curdling shrieks of the orcs waiting for them below.

Hilde was in the second line toward the left flank of the King's army. The shieldmaidens had spread out through the Host, many going to bolster the numbers of Grimbold's company. But a couple of the women who had joined her from Dunharrow waited near her among Éomer's éored, their faces just as pale and drawn as she imagined hers to be. But there was a light of resolve in their eyes, and a growing flush of courage returning to their cheeks as their initial shock faded. Hilde's own heart was beginning to thrum in anticipation. Beside her Willa sat firm, her eyes sparking intensely with daring as her black mare shifted eagerly. Hilde couldn't help but think that this was a woman born for battle. Between her own legs, she could feel Windfola quivering with his own mix of anticipation and fear. He had nearly shied away when the legions of orcs had come into sight, but Hilde's firm hand had steadied him. He trusted her, and now he stood steady, even though she could see his eyes rolling with alarm at the yowls and cries that drifted up from the dark masses before them.

Just ahead the King was riding along the front lines, his orders echoing to his Marshals before he turned his voice to his army. The sun was broaching the horizon and burning through the grim grey clouds as he called out, bathing the King and the fields beyond in golden light. Beneath Théoden, Snowmane seemed almost to dance, his elegant head high as his white coat gleamed in living embodiment of the banners held high above him. As the King drew Herugrim, spears throughout the ranks began lowering. Hilde's breath nearly caught in her throat, her heart hammering as she knew the moment of the charge drew near. Not far ahead of where Hilde waited Éomer sat proudly on Firefoot, his dark eyes scanning the ranks of his éored. His eyes caught hers for a moment, something passing between them. She wasn't sure if it was mutual worry, a silent affirmation of their feelings or some mix of that and more, but it steadied Hilde's nerves, somehow calming her in the face of what was sure to come.

Théoden King was riding along the lines, his sword clattering against the lowered spears. Hilde's grip tightened on her own spear, dropping the gleaming tip in readiness. Beneath her helmet a bead of sweat trickled down her temple, and her shield hung heavy over her knee. Her right knee was beginning to ache from so long in the saddle, and her mail weighed on her still sore shoulder. But as the King rode by, his voice still rising over the ranks, she found her discomfort melting away.

"Ride now," he cried, stirring the heart of every rider, "ride now, ride, ride for ruin, and the world's ending!" Of its own volition, Hilde found her voice joining the cries around her, all fear drowning and forgotten amid the rapturous chorus of voices rising behind the King. The same burning rhapsody that had coursed through her veins during the final Charge of the Hornburg was fanned to life again in her belly. In the back of her mind, as the horns of the Rohirrim echoed over the plains, she could almost swear she heard the Horn of the Hammerhand reverberating through the very marrow of her bones.