C

Cirion, Ruling Steward of Gondor following the death of his father Boromir, could think of few strategies to protect his country from impending attacks from the Balchoth, who had entered Rhovanion from the east.  “It is cavalry that we need!” he said.  “Can we call upon our cousins, the Northmen, to come to our aid?”

“Courage is needed,” he was calmly advised.  “Long ago they withdrew into the far north after the coming of the Necromancer into the lands east of the Anduin.  But they may be summoned.”

Crafty and courageous was the rider who finished the journey to the folk of the Eótheód to summon the canny warriors of Eorl the Young.  Carefully and cautiously they rode southward, hidden by the clouds of mist provided by the Lady of Lórien at the advice of her husband Celeborn, until they reached the Fields of the Celebrant where they could hear Cirion’s troops in battle against the foe.  Eorl gave the command, and the Eorlingas blew their horn call and their cavalry charged into battle, catching the Balchoth between the two armies..  The combined forces of Gondor and Eorl’s folk conquered the invaders, the few survivors careering in confusion back through the lands by which they’d entered the realms of the Free Peoples. 

“Our lands are cleansed!” called Cirion.  “We shall celebrate by ceding to you the now empty lands of Calenhardorn for your own, and ever may we call upon one another for aid when enemies threaten us.  Ever shall we conjoin in common cause when invaders threaten our nations.”

The people of Eorl cried and chanted in their joy!

            Melian reached out to touch the picture of Cirion and Eorl congratulating one another that illustrated the page.  “How cunningly it is colored!”

            Eldarion merely smiled with pleasure, remembering tales of the horns of Rohan sounding their calls across the fields of the Pelennor at cockcrow.