Protect & Serve LotR-Lord of the Rings Fanfiction - Fan Fiction -WattyAwards2012

Chapter 5: The Parting Glass

We finally reached the littered and strewn rubble of the ruined arched gates to the Orthanc. The king and the van rode forward as they noticed the small forms dozing lackadaisically atop the now great heap of debris. But I hung back near the rest of the Rohirrim, enjoying the sight of the Three Hunters' happy reunion with their quarry.

Merry stood and gallantly welcomed the others like a lord graciously greeting his guests. All while unobtrusively toeing Pippin in the stomach to wake him.

"I was surprised by the word of my soldiers that a woman had traveled with us," a thick Rohirric accent softly proclaimed as a horse maneuvered closer in beside me. "Yet I have been informed by those who fought through the night at the Deep that you were present then as well."

Tearing my eyes away from the happy teases being thrown between the Three Hunters and the hobbits, I cast my eyes on the tall form astride a flaxen sorrel. The horse restlessly tossed his head, his full mane flashing in the sun, yet he remained firmly where his rider had placed him. The man was tall and imposing. In more than just his physical stature. Years in the Marines and on the force had taught me how to size a man up in a single glance. And this glance told me that whomever the soldier was, he was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

"Yes. I did fight at the Deep. I suppose it does seem surprising to you, I understand that women fighting alongside the men isn't common-practice. Even among the famous Shieldmaidens of Rohan."

My tone had aimed for flat and respectful, but something in it seemed to cause the man to flash a bright grin, revealing surprisingly straight teeth for this world.

"You would not be the first nor only maiden to feel as you so do. I've known a few Shieldmaidens who would prefer to swing their sword-arm in battle rather than wielding a sewing needle at home," he chuckled.

My mind instantly thought of Éowyn as I surveyed his bulky form and the reddish-blond hair curling beneath the edge of his helmet. Yet, somehow, there was something in his voice that told me he didn't necessarily think it was right to keep the womenfolk out of the heat of battle. And I somehow doubted a soldier with the evident rank of this man's stature, carriage, and armor, would have meant such a thing to apply to the king's niece.

"Not many men think their womenfolk should leave the safety of their hearth, nor that a woman could have the stomach for battle," I carefully responded. Trying to aim for a pleasant observation and not offend.

Now he laughed in deep guffaws, drawing the attention of the closer soldiers. "Never would I let it be said that the womenfolk didn't have the stomach to perform any task they felt necessary." At my curious look, he quieted his chuckles and explained, "I have a wife and six daughters. Well do I know the lengths the so-called fairer sex will willingly go to protect that hearth and home. And many a time have I felt more than just the bite of my dear wife's tongue in her ire and greatly do I fear it."

He grinned as he said it, so I knew no matter his words and supposed fear of his wife; it was nothing but a loving figment that he painted of her.

"Six daughters? Damn. I don't think I could handle that. You have my admiration. I always thought if I ever was cursed with the punishment of children, I'd rather take sons any day of the week."

His eyes flickered to the van and settled on Legolas for a moment. "No doubt any sons or daughters born to a woman so bold as to fight these dark days alongside man, shall be born no less bold than their mother," he offered, his eyes swinging back to mine.

I looked away, slightly uncomfortable with the topic of motherhood, and Lightfoot danced nervously beneath me, sensing my tenseness and unease.

"Surely the elf shall be up for the task of so bold a brood if he has chosen so fiery a mate," he grinned, unperturbed by my obvious nervousness.