Only the day before she had been standing in this very spot as the King's company had ridden toward the winding path that led to the camp. Now she was sitting on Windfola's back, watching as the supply train was winding its way down.

Barely more than an hour ago, she had watched with her heart in her throat as her husband had ridden out with the King for Gondor. If it had not been for the lingering dread that still clutched at her heart she would have thought the sight magnificent. Thousands upon thousands of Riders had surged across the plains after their King with a roar like thunder from thousands upon thousands of hooves, their spears glinting in the rising sun as banners snapped and flew overhead.

But watching the King's Army leave had been one of the hardest things she had ever done. No. Saying farewell to Éomer held that dubious distinction. He had been right; mere moments after she had asked only to be held, Éothain had indeed appeared in the tent's entrance, ready to wake Éomer if need be. Things progressed far too quickly after that. It felt like a blink of an eye later he was clad in full battle array, giving Hilde her final private farewell. She almost couldn't bear it, especially when she caught the flicker of sorrow in his eyes beneath the assured First Marshal he appeared.

But she did. And then she watched him mount Firefoot, his thoughts already ahead on the ride and the coming battle, sparing her only the faintest of smiles as he pulled away from her. She hated that he seemed almost unaffected, but she understood, for she was the same. She had her own emotions under such tight control that she could barely manage more than a wan smile and quiet farewell. But their grips on each other's hand as he urged his dappled mount forward were tight enough that she was almost pulled along with the grey as he bore her husband away from her.

Absently she had wondered then if Éowyn rode with them, or if she was just avoiding her. But later, as she was preparing for the journey back to Edoras, she learned that Folca was no longer with the remaining Edoras horses while Windfola was, and Hilde had her answer. So now she was riding her friend's horse, preparing herself to return to Edoras alone while her new sister rode her Folca into battle. And it looked like Éowyn wasn't the only stowaway rider either; Hilde couldn't find the hobbit Merry, either, even though his pony Stybba was still in the camp.

With a final sigh and final look over the trodden ground that had once been a bustling camp, Hilde finally admitted to herself that it was time to go. It hadn't even been an hour after the army had ridden out that the camp had been dismantled and packed away; there was no reason to linger. Turning Éowyn's chestnut mount she joined the last stragglers descending from the cliffs.

No matter how hard she was trying, though, she could not help but dwell on what faced those she loved in Gondor as Windfola plodded down the near treacherous paths of the cliff-face. She could not fight the fear that she had spent her last night at Éomer's side, or that she had kissed her husband for the last time. She couldn't seem to fight the regret that some of her last words to Éowyn sounded so harsh, or that she hadn't told Éomer what she feared his sister planned. Now it was too late. She feared the expectation placed upon her to rule the Golden Hall while the King rode to battle, and feared that the duty was to fall on her alone; she was not born to be a ruler, not by herself.

She was startled from her dark thoughts as she reached the foot of the path, her attention seized by the sound of a host of riders riding over the hills into the plains of Firienfeld. A faint flutter of aggravation flickered through her at how late these riders were. Urging Windfola forward she didn't hesitate to meet them just beyond where the supply train was turning toward Edoras. They had not missed the main army by much, and should be able to catch up before too long without exhausting themselves or their mounts. Over her shoulder, she noticed a small group of the women with the supply train had split off too, riding to meet the newcomers as Hilde did. It only served to fuel her confusion.

It was then that she realized there was something odd about the approaching host, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She urged Windfola to go a little faster, something the chestnut happily complied with; Hilde couldn't help but think the horse was disappointed to have been left behind. As she got closer to the arriving host, she began recognizing faces she hadn't anticipated seeing. One in particular rode forward to meet her.

"Willa? What is this," Hilde exclaimed as the older shieldmaiden pulled her horse to a halt beside Windfola. Taking off her helmet, the other woman brushed some of her greying hair from her eyes. Behind them, the group from the supply train, including Gilwyn, Illeyen and Eldyn, pulled up with them.

"The women of our country have always taken great pride in our ability to fight for our homes and keep our children safe while our men rode off to war." It was Eldyn, the wife of one of Théoden's advisors who spoke, her voice calm and assured.

"But this time is different," Willa spoke up, nodding in agreement with Eldyn's words, "if this battle before Minas Tirith fails, and Gondor falls, Rohan will soon follow."

"It is time we fought with our men," called one of the women in Willa's company, a dark-haired woman only a little older than Hilde herself. Around Hilde other women—shieldmaidens all, Hilde realized—nodded and shouted their agreement.

"The King needs every spear he can get, and so we have been gathering what shieldmaidens we could, riding out behind the men across the Mark; calling a muster of our own, you could say," Willa resumed, her dark eyes sparkling with eagerness. Hilde was still too stunned to speak. Arrayed behind Willa were at least another thousand, maybe even two thousand women from across the Mark, ready and armed for battle. Eldyn urged her mare closer to Hilde, laying a hand on her arm. Beyond her, Hilde noticed several of the women who had been at Dunharrow wore armour beneath their cloaks, their swords and shields lashed to their saddles.

"You inspired us, Hilde. Many of our women have longed to go to war beside our men since we first picked up swords alongside them, but knew our duty was to protect our children and our homes. So we did with pride," Eldyn raised her chin, her head held high as an assenting murmur spread around them, "But you weren't content to stand back at Helm's Deep when it mattered, just as we all realize that we can't afford to stand aside now."

"The King will send you back," Hilde said quietly, her heart already beginning to sing with anticipation. Eldyn smiled, shaking her head.

"By the time we catch up it will be too late to turn back."

"And our King is wise; he knows he needs as many spears as he can get. Rohan's shieldmaidens can help, and will help, in this battle," Another woman, Fréahild, who Hilde faintly recalled from Edoras spoke up. Eldyn turned back to Hilde.

"You should ride with them, child." Hilde's breath caught. In her chest her heart thrummed with anticipation heedless of the way her mind insisted she shouldn't.

"I cannot, you know this. I have a responsibility to my King to guard Edoras in his absence; you know that." Eldyn's smile didn't fade as she patted Hilde's leg.

"Orwold and I can see to Edoras and the Golden Hall; we've done it before. But you are needed in this fight. You are a skilled warrior in your own right; a veteran of Helm's Deep. Every spear," she emphasized.

"Besides," Willa piped up, a mischievous grin on her face, "we need you to sweet talk the King and your Marshal husband." Hilde felt her cheeks flame for a moment. Apparently the news of her impromptu wedding had spread farther than she thought. But the dread in her stomach flopped again, reminding her that she'd told Éomer she'd stay away from this battle.

But it called to her in sweet, glorious tones that she could not ignore.

"I have no armour, only my sword and bow," she countered half-heartedly, knowing she was losing the fight. Again Eldyn smiled gently.

"Haleth saw to that," Illeyen, the Master of the Horse's wife answered from where she sat beside Eldyn. Hilde's gaze spun to the Stablemaster's widow, her eyes wide with shock. The older woman was paying little attention, though, turning and waving back at the supply train. It was then that Hilde noticed one of the wagons was moving far slower than the others, and at Illeyen's wave had stopped altogether. Illeyen had continued speaking even as Hilde watched the wagon slowing with bewilderment.

"Your brother caught several of us preparing our things, hiding mail and spears for ourselves among the supplies and guessed our purpose," she explained, drawing Hilde's gaze. Haleth had always been close to Illeyen's son Eármund, and knew Illeyen and her late husband well thanks to his time in the stables. "He asked that we take your armour along; he knew you would wish to fight, but wouldn't because of the King's task for you and because of him." It certainly sounded like something her brother would do; Hilde fought back the tears that prickled behind her eyes. Mutely she nodded, though only enough for those closest to her to see.

Éomer was going to be furious with her.

"Then we mustn't waste a moment. Make haste; the King's army moves quickly, and we will have a lot of ground to cover to reach them. There can be little rest between here and Gondor." Around her, women began to smile with excitement. In her belly the heady rush of anticipation soon overpowered the roiling feel of dread.

She was riding to Gondor, and to war.

***

It had not been hard to follow the Rohirric Army; they left a trail in their wake that even the blind would be unable to miss. They had made good time, and their mounts were doing well, needing only the shortest of breaks as their riders were generally lighter than the grown men their kin bore in the main army. They had mostly kept pace with the main army, holding back from joining them just yet to lessen the chance that they'd be turned back, the scouts Hilde and Willa sent ahead keeping them appraised of the main Army's movements.

Willa had been a great force in this Shieldmaiden Muster, but she quickly insisted on sharing leadership with Hilde. 'After all,' the older woman had cheekily pointed out, 'you are to be my Queen one day.' Hilde couldn't help but be grateful for the woman's optimism; Willa had no doubt that the Army of Rohirrim would win the day thanks to the shieldmaidens, and they would all return home in glory to 'celebrate and make babies to tell our great tales to.' Hilde found her own optimism growing as she rode beside Willa. But she was not entirely fooled; she could see in Willa's eyes that the older woman knew it would be no easy battle, and that victory was far from assured. But that didn't dampen the older shieldmaiden's confidence in the slightest. What admiration Willa had earned in Hilde's eyes on the road to the Hornburg grew tenfold on that nearly three-day ride to Gondor.

It was late on the last day that the women finally decided it was time to join up with the men. One of their scouts, a quick, flinty young woman named Aéllen, returned saying the main army was taking rest on the banks of a small lake before the final push to Minas Tirith. The women had already taken their rest, and were preparing to move on themselves. After some quick conferring between Hilde, Willa, Illeyen and a couple others, the decision was made to close the gap between them and the main army.

As they approached the lake Aéllen had spoken of, Hilde could already hear the din only a rousing army could make before they even crested the hill that hid the King's force from sight. Faintly they could hear voices calling for the men to ready to continue on and horns being blown.

Exchanging a brief reassuring look with Willa, she urged Windfola forward, the chestnut eagerly obeying. Hilde hadn't been imagining the horse's disappointment at being left behind. The instant Hilde had attached the thick leather face-guard Haleth had sent to Windfola's bridle a change had come over him; he was just as ready for battle as any other, his muscles tensing and quivering with anticipation. Windfola might not have been born for battle as Folca was, but Hilde could see in his dark eyes that he was not about to shy away from it. It gave Hilde courage, as did the horsehair crest attached to the faceguard where it lay between Windfola's ears. As soon as Eldyn had pulled the guard from the wagon Hilde had nearly cried; only one horse had had hair the same shade as her eyes. And of course Haleth had thought to attach it to the faceguard her mount was to wear into battle. It strengthened her heart to know that, even in that little way, Brytta was riding with her into battle again.

As they crossed the crest of the hill they finally caught sight of the army they had been chasing, their own pace slowing as they took in the sight before them. The banks of the lake could not be seen for the army that rested upon them: a sea of horseflesh and men that seemed to stretch on forever. Though her eye was not so practiced in such things, Hilde could easily see that the ranks had grown; they must have picked up more riders as the army crossed the Eastfold. Her suspicions were confirmed when she caught sight of a few shields she faintly recalled belonged to settlements and families from the eastern portion of their country. The army was already beginning to move.

She also caught sight of the King and his closest men where they gathered to confer near the banks of the lake, among them a familiar dapple-grey horse. Nearly the same time she noticed them, the King and his Marshals turned their mounts in the direction of the Shieldmaidens. They had seen them. Hilde drew in a deep, steadying breath, her fingers tightening on her spear.

Signaling for the main body of their host to take the brief opportunity to water their horses, Hilde and her own small group of advisors broke off to meet with the King, who was even now riding toward them. As the King drew close enough that Hilde could see his face, she also saw how his jaw was nearly slack with shock as he realized the riders before him were all women.

"What is this?" Hilde was almost tempted to laugh as he repeated her own initial response to a host of women. Willa was the first to speak up, urging her black mare forward to stand near the King.

"Over a thousand more spears to answer your muster, My King. Shieldmaidens, all off us, and each of us ready to fight to the last." Slowly he nodded, his eyes catching Hilde's briefly, recognition flickering for an instant. Pressing his white mount forward, he exchanged a few brief words with Willa. Hilde could not hear what he asked from where she sat on Windfola, but if she were to judge based on the relief that spread across his face, Willa had just told him that Éowyn was not among them. Guilt flooded through Hilde; she knew differently. She knew that somewhere among the men of the Main Army, one woman rode with them already. She also suspected some of the other women had figured that out as well. That Éowyn had been conspicuously absent from the supply column returning to Edoras had not gone entirely unnoticed, and her desire to ride to battle was not unknown.

Beside the King, Éomer came to a halt himself, looking almost as bewildered as his uncle. Briefly the two men exchanged a look of astonishment before the King nodded sharply, turning Snowmane and riding off to look to the rest of the army, leaving Éomer to see to this newest development.

He took it in stride, surveying the women in front of him, his battle-trained eye briefly examining the main group by the lake's edge. But then Hilde noticed the expression in his eyes shift to one of anxiety as he scanned the helmeted faces before him. Knowing she couldn't hide behind Willa's boldness, Hilde guided Windfola to a stop beside the older shieldmaiden, meeting her husband's gaze head on. She didn't expect him to be surprised when he saw her, and he wasn't.

"Hilde," he said her name almost as a sigh, "what are you doing?"

"We've come to fight, Éomer." She said quietly.

"You said you would stay out of this battle, that you'd look to Edoras' keeping." As he spoke, she urged Windfola forward again until her mount stood shoulder to shoulder with his.

"I know, and I am sorry," she glanced back at the other women, all of whom watched her expectantly, "but Éomer, they came of their own will, and would have come whether I joined them or not. I could not stay behind when they asked me to fight alongside them, not when I am part of the reason they mean to fight." He looked over the women again, a faint doubt surfacing in his eyes before he looked back to her, dismay clouding his expression. It bled onto his features, cracking through the stoic bearing he almost always wore when his role as Marshal of the Mark took hold of him.

"Hilde," it was little more than a whisper, but it betrayed every fear he had to her. She longed to reach out to him, her grip tightening again on her spear as she resisted doing so. She was here as a Rider of the Mark, not a wife. These women were looking to her, and she intended to act accordingly. She sighed, searching for the words she needed. Then they came to her, flooding from her lips before she even realized she had found them.

"If this is to be the Great Battle of our Age, we cannot stand by waiting for either our men to return or for the enemy to sweep across our lands. For if Mordor's armies prevail in Gondor it will make no difference that we stayed behind, for those of us left behind would not be able to stand against them. But if we stand with you, it might be enough to turn the tide," she smiled wryly, "let us be your Rohirrim in this fight. Let us ride with our kin and our King." He sighed heavily, turning his gaze again to survey the gathered shieldmaidens.

Beyond Hilde's group, the bulk of their Shieldmaiden force was waiting, ready to join the King's Army as it moved on toward Gondor. Something in his posture shifted, and he turned back to her. It was now pride that mixed with the worry in his eyes. Hilde felt the corner of her lips turn up in a hopeful smile. Taking a deep breath he turned Firefoot, his voice rising above the female riders gathered before him.

"Riders, form up!"   

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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