How did it come to this?
Loyal to her family, her lands and her people, Théadain, the illegitimate daughter of Théoden, King of Rohan, has little concern for the world that lies beyond her familiar grasslands. When all that she loves is threatened...
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Chapter 60
As a weak dawn had broken over the ravaged city of Minas Tirith, Théadain had slipped from the Houses of Healing. She had spent the remainder of the night after the battle at Éowyn's bedside, giving Éomer a chance to rest after standing vigil over her since she had been found.
They had spoken softly through the night, Éomer loosely explaining the shadow that had fallen over his sister during the battle, Théadain informing him of exactly what Éowyn had achieved during the fight, the nature of her foe explaining the powerful effect it had over her. Still, Aragorn had drawn her back from that darkness, though she continued to sleep even through the dawn, her pallor still an unsettling grey. It was then, as the first rays of the sun fell through the open window, that the aching need to do something had fallen over Théadain.
Still clothed in her heavy mail, the Shieldmaiden had walked down through the levels of the White City. The Houses of Healing were placed on the sixth level, the only one above it housing the Citadel and the Royal Quarters - though she suspected she would not find Aragorn there, not yet. She longed to see him, to find shelter in his arms and let him soothe away the ache of loss that clung to her, but she knew he was needed by others more. To be needed would be a relief, it would give her something to focus on, so she resolved to find those that so often looked to her for guidance.
One of the guards of Minas Tirith was able to tell her that the uninjured men of Rohan had been housed on the second level, and so she made her way to them, though she found few there. Most had already made their way back out to the battlefield to search for their friends, or to catch the loose horses that still roamed in the wake of the fighting. When she made her own way down, following the slope of the streets rather than any memory of when she had been brought in - seemingly in Aragorn's arms - she found herself stepping over rubble and debris even as people tirelessly worked to clear it. Pausing briefly, she lent herself to a pair of women struggling to lift the remains of a heavy wooden beam away from a doorway. Though her shoulders ached under the weight, it eased that anxious need within her to help. Dismissing the women's thanks with a small smile, she moved on, marvelling at how swiftly the roads were being cleared. Even mere hours after the siege, the people of Minas Tirith were rallying.
Passing beneath the ruined gate, Théadain had once more found herself stepping out onto the Pelennor Fields, quickly being swept up into the activity of clearing the road that led from the city gates to the ruin of Osgiliath to the East. That was where she found Folhelm, working alongside Gamling to gather up each riderless horse that had been recovered from the battlefield and beyond - and it was there that her friend pressed Folca's reins into her hand, watching as his Marshal's steady composure dissolved into a mist of tears as she flung her arms around the horse's neck, before turning to embrace her friends. She could hardly express her relief at seeing them both alive, albeit as battered and bruised as she was. Both men keenly felt the loss of her father, as did each man of Rohan that she encountered throughout the morning, but she could not bring herself to speak of him. Not yet.
