Edoras

           Daylight strengthens in the skies over Edoras, although far-sighted eyes can see a darkening wall of gloom beginning to climb over the edge of the world from the East.  The people of the city are shaking off the dreadful passage of the Flying Terror that swooped over Meduseld, before winging its way west and north towards Isengard.  Once it passes out of sight, the Rohirrim se

           Night descends upon Edoras as the sun dips beneath the edge of the world, watchfires and lamps beginning to shine in the gathering gloam.  From the main gate of the city, a road runs straight between two rows of mounds, seven upon the left hand, nine upon the right:  the Barrow Field, where sleep the kings of the Riddermark. 

“Did you not have friends in the Mark with whom you could confide in such gossip?” Piper asks me over the rim of her mug of cider. We had been talking long at the table in the center of the tavern. (She had caught me outside in the rain, relishing in it, and invited me inside for a drink ere I caught cold).

“Eda? Eda, if it be possible I would speak with you, woman to woman."

It was a chilly night, the stars clearly visible with no hint of a cloud in sight. The gibbous moon shone down upon me with distant curiosity. ‘What was I doing, seeking to speak with the dead?’

The tall grass drifted in the wind as we rode across the plains not far from Edoras. Far out in the fields a tall windmill loomed, its sails slowly rotating as the rusted mechanism inside ground stone against stone, eagerly pushed on by a northern wind. A herd of wild horses grazed nearby, paying little mind as we passed. The largest stallion tilted his head and looked at me for a moment; his big, brown eyes so full of life and wild, raw and untamed emotion.

I was trembling inside. Anger, disgust, disbelief all hailed me as one . There was a short but overwhelming sense of nausea that almost caused my knees to give way.

Then came the sound of hurried footsteps ascending the stairs, as he ran to my side.