Eohelm walked briskly through the crowded market streets of Edoras. His purposeful gait quickly ate up the ground between there and the stable. His clouded and determined expression cleared a path there.

For years our people have lived in peace, not worrying over troubles far away from our own borders. We have looked to our own and gained the reward of peace and stability. His expression darkened, and the last few men between him and his destination were quick to remove themselves from his path. They had no desire to stand between the young soldier and his goal. When strangers are allowed to enter our lands, trouble soon follows.

He clenched his fists in frustration. Horses were the greatest part of the lives of the Rohirrim, and all others who dwelt in Rohan. When a group of strange men—claiming to be Dunedain Rangers from the far North—came to ask to buy horses from the herdsmen caring for King's horses near the Fangorn Forest, they had reported immediately to the small group of Rohirrim in the nearby village of Dalefold. The herdsmen had seemed frightened, saying they felt as though their mysterious visitors would be willing to take the creatures by force if they were refused.

Upon hearing the odd news, Thego, leader of the Rohirrim at Dalefold, had sent Eohelm to Edoras, in order that he might speak to Theoden about the matter. It wasn't simply a matter of horses. It was clear that Thego feared that the appearance of these strangers could well be a prelude to something far more serious.

"Eohelm!" The stable master, a young man named Gamla, recognized Eohelm and stood, obviously surprised to see him in Edoras. "You rarely come from Dalefold." His manner of speaking was that of a statement, but Eohelm knew he truly posed a question.

"Indeed." Eohelm replied, his tone sharp. Gamla recoiled slightly. Eohelm handed him the reins of his warhorse. "Forgive me, Gamla, but I cannot be delayed, for this errand of mine is urgent." He did not know how much he ought to tell the young stable keeper, for he did not know how loose the man was with his tongue. There was no open trouble yet. But there well could be, if rumors began to spread around Edoras. Who knew what stories bored townsfolk would make out of the matter.

Gamla nodded and took the gray steed into the stable to care for him. Eohelm turned and walked toward the Golden Hall.

He walked up to the hill where the Golden Hall stood, preparing himself to speak to the King. He drew out the message sent by Thego. Better to have it in hand now, than fumble about for it before Theoden. The message was a brief one, for Thego intended on coming himself when given the chance. But his duties were such that they could not be simply dropped at a moment's notice, in favor of something that could prove insignificant.

Eohelm ascended the stairway and came to the door-guards of the the King's hall.

"State your name and business, be you friend." Heleth, the king's doorkeeper, stepped forward, his manner slightly challenging.

"I am Eohelm, son of Eogal. I have been sent by Thego son of Thelm, who commands the Rohirrim of Theoden King in Dalefold. I have a message for the King of the Mark." Eohelm held up the message as proof of his tale. Heleth extended his hand.

"Allow me to see the signet," he said simply. Eohelm nodded and handed the doorkeeper the envelope.

Men of the Mark are not preoccupied with using many and confusing words, as those of Gondor seem to be. We say that which we mean, and do not bother with trying to sound as though we know more than we have learned. He smiled ever so slightly at the thought. Simplicity in life was a blessing, and not one he intended to throw away lightly.

"You speak truth. This is Thego's signet." Heleth handed the envelope back to Eohelm and allowed him enter the King's hall.

Nervously, Eohelm walked through the hallway. He had been in the presence of Theoden very few times, and had never delivered a message to the King. He would not be doing so now, save the fact that the intended messenger had taken ill hours before he intended to ride from Dalefold. The whole business seemed suspicious to Eohelm, and he dearly hoped that the matter would soon be cleared up.

He reached the end of the hall, to the place where those who wished to visit the king would come. He bowed, remaining in that position until he heard Theoden speak.

"Rise, and state your business."

"My liege," Eohelm began, standing straight again. "I am Eohelm, son of Eogal. I have been sent with a message for you, my lord, by Thego, son of Thelm, the commander of the Rohirrim in Dalefold." He bowed once more and held out the letter. A young man standing next to the King—Grima by name, if Eohelm remembered correctly—stepped down and took the letter from Eohelm's hand, giving it into that of the King.

Theoden opened the letter and scanned the page of parchment, his face looking confused, then frustrated, then angry.

"I will speak to Thego when he comes unto me, but I do wish to speak to you, Eohelm, son of Eogal."

Eohelm nodded. "My knowledge, though limited, is at your disposal, my lord."

"Did you have any dealings with these...visitors?" Theoden held the letter loosely in his hand, his eyes riveted firmly on Eohelm.

"No, my King, Thego spoke to them, as did the herdsmen, but I had no dealings with these men."

"I see. Did Thego tell you what his conversation with these men was?"

"Not verbatim, my lord."

"Well, do not stand there like a fool! Tell me!"

Eohelm nodded quickly, and began to speak.

"He said that the men came to him and requested to buy some of the horses that the herdsmen were watching over. Thego told the men that those horses belonged to the King of the Mark, and were not to be sold without his consent.

"The men offered him more money than their first offer, and Thego continued to deny them the permission they desired. He told me later that he saw it not as a sale of horses, but a bribe to keep him quiet as the men stole the prize stock of the King." Eohelm paused, trying to remember what else Thego had told him. "He said that the men grew angry and spoke fell words to him, though he did not say what. He ordered them from his sight, and told some of the men in his command to escort them to the edge of the Mark." Here Eohelm stopped, fearing his voice would betray his anger at the next event he was to relay to the king. He decided he did not care if the king knew he was angry, for he had perfect right to be, and continued.

"The soldiers sent were ambushed by Orcs. We found the bodies of our sword-brothers and ten Orc four morns past. The bodies of the strange men were not with them." Eohelm stopped speaking. The tale was over.

"How many were slain?" Theoden inquired, his own voice sounding tight with emotion. The man standing at his side looked on with horror at the story.

"Five men, my lord." Eohelm replied.

"It grieves me to hear this." Theoden looked closely at the man before him. "You may go from my presence now, Eohelm, son of Eogal. But do not leave Edoras. I may yet require your knowledge."

Eohelm bowed and left the hall.

As he walked back to the market, he was lost in thought.

When his mind returned to reality, he found himself wandering down the street heedlessly. However, he found no need observe to those around him—until he noticed a strange man looking about the market.

It was not so much the man, but his horse. The creature was a lovely gray, its coat glossy and well kept, even in the winter. It bore no tack, but rather followed its master much like a faithful dog, responding immediately to the man's occasional word or gesture.

This surprised Eohelm greatly. For though the men of Rohan were greatly renowned for their skill with horses, not even they could control one without bit, bridle, or saddle in a busy marketplace.

Eohelm turned his attention to the man. His cloak was gray, and surprisingly light for the cold weather. Beneath it, he wore a green tunic, snug trousers of a black fabric, and light boots made of supple, brown leather. His face was slightly obscured by the hood of his cloak, but flaxen hair spilled out from the front, ending mid-chest.

He reached back and stroked the gray's nose, speaking softly to it. His hands were soft looking, as though they hadn't a callous or blister.

Eohelm snorted slightly to himself. He looks as though he's never done a bit of work in his life.

The man turned slowly and began searching the crowd, as though he were looking for something, or someone.

He's not from here... Eohelm's suspicions were roused in the blinking of an eye. A strange horse-handler..Chances are he was among those who came to 'buy' our horses. Eohelm walked toward the strange man, who simply stood quietly, stroking his steed's nose and slowly looking from side to side. He suddenly turned to Eohelm and spoke.

"Pardon me, but do you know the way to the stable?" His voice was soft, but still clear enough to be heard amidst the bustle of the market. "My horse and I have traveled far. I would like to find a place where he may rest."

"You are a stranger here." Eohelm folded his arms and glared at the man, who's voice changed to hold a small bit of amusement.

"I see you are not blind. Would I not know how to find the stable myself, if I were from this city?"

"Do not mock me," Eohelm's temper flared. "I do not take insults from vagabond wanderers."

"Ah, forgive me. As a stranger, I was unaware that asking for directions is forbidden in your lands. Do you prefer for visitors to simply wander aimlessly through your towns?"

Eohelm's face flushed. His fists clenched tight, and his eyes grew hard. "Do not speak to me that way, fool."

"I merely asked you if you knew the way to the stable. Is that a crime in Edoras?" The man's head tilted to the side as he posed the question. "I was under the impression that the men of Rohan prided themselves in their steeds. Are you angry with me for desiring mine to be cared for?"

"I do not see why you should be permitted to use the King's stable." Eohelm replied.

"I did not ask to use it. Is there no stable where common travelers keep their animals?"

"Why ought I allow you to use it?"

The man sighed, as though this ought to be self evident. "If a traveler is not allowed to keep his steed in a stable for common travelers, then it escapes me who would be." He paused, regarding Eohelm in a way that made Eohelm feel as though he were not being looked upon, but through. "Or do you mean that because I am not of Rohan I am not allowed to use the stable? If that be, fear not. I will do no harm to horses, for I am rather fond of the beasts." He gently stroked the nose of his animal, speaking something almost hardly audible and completely unintelligible to the creature as he did so.

He did not say he would do no harm to people. Eohelm thought, with some discomfort.

"Direct me there, and I shall go, and leave you in peace."

"I will do no such thing for a dishonest spy!" Eohelm lunged forward to grasp the man, intending to take him to the Rohirrim to be questioned. But his hands never reached their intended target, for the traveler simply turned and melted into the crowd, disappearing into the hubbub of the market, and search as he might, Eohelm could find no trace of him.

Frustrated, the young soldier abandoned the brief search and headed for the inn. The journey, though only a few hours, had taken a toll on his body. He needed to rest.

He found lodgings shortly after dusk, and was in his room preparing to turn in by the time darkness fell.

Suddenly, from outside came a commotion at the main gate of the city. There was a cry of surprise, and then men at the gate house began yelling to one another in urgent tones. Torchlight flickered about the streets in eerie patterns of red and orange.

Wondering what new trouble may have arisen, Eohelm stood quickly and left the inn, running out into the street to see what the matter might be.

A guard was hurrying down the street with a great horse in tow, heading for the stable. Several others were clustered about in a tight knot, what over, Eohelm could not see. Still another ran down the street in the direction of the Golden Hall.

Eohelm rushed to the men gathered together, hoping to see what had happened, and why the gate guard were so upset.

When he reached them, he could see in the torchlight, a man lying in their midst, badly wounded. A feeling confusion reigned as the guards tried to get the injured man aid. Everyone seemed to be speaking at once and over each other as they did their best to help.

"What has happened?"

"The man's been shot!"

"Is he alive?"

"Get me some bandages!"

"Yes sir!"

"Somebody get the poor man some ale!"

"I'll get him something!"

"We need some water, and quick!"

Within the next five minutes, a terrific flurry of activity—and a stunning lack of communication—ended in the man's caretakers being brought five mugs of ale, two buckets of water, enough bandages for three times the wounds sustained by the man, and a snail—which somebody had thought they heard called for, and brought back the biggest one they could find.

Up until now, Eohelm had been confined to the back of the small knot of soldiers, but in all the chaos, he had managed to get closer in, and now he could see the man's face, pale and drawn in the red light. He sucked in his breath sharply, as he suddenly recognized the man, even with the deathly pallor of the skin and the features contorted in pain.

It was Thego, shot down on his way to Edoras from Dalefold.

Eohelm clenched his fists and turned away, feeling his stomach contort in anger.

He leaned against the corner of the guard house, fighting to keep control over himself, staring into the street, yet unseeing.

How long he stood there, he did not know; it could have been a matter of seconds or minutes, or possibly even an hour. When he came to himself, he started and looked across the street, aware of the world around him once more. He turned back to where his leader had lay, but saw that now no one was there.

There was nothing further Eohelm could do, so he returned to his bed. But hope for sleep that night was gone.