Few people were inside their houses now, too busey with the days first tasks to even for a moment think about what they were doing. Which place was different? You had a place in this world. Weather it was you who tended to the crops, shoed the horses ofcooked the bread there was no other place.
Tears tried to well in my eyes, my weakness displayed in the moment which no one ever saw. My hair slapped in my face as the wind embraced mt, and my tears seeped like a glue, pulling the golden braids to my face.
I lifted my hand and cleared my sight, the white cloth of my clothes so pale against my fair skin. The sky was so blue, so possive and cold, beautiful like a swords sharp blade. Yet deadly also.
This was Rohan. The land of the horsemen, of regal lords and the house of Eorl. This was not the land I knew. Not anymore. The treason of the foul worm spoke Saruman's lies into the ears of an old king. Orcs pillaged the farmsteads on our borders, and our horsemen did not ride to help them, to save them, and the plains were but a sea of green before the mountains and the blue sky arose each morn.
Open freedom had been my illusion, shattered by the reality of war, and the suffering of my kinsmen. I would ride to the war with the riders as they left. The shieldmaid of Rohan. The daughter of Kings. My hope was departed, yet my will remained: I would never be trapped in a cage, left to accept my prison as old age and weakness destroyed me.
I will die free. By the sword would my blood be spilt, and my last moment would be upon the field of battle, among loyal men and honour, not the lies and trecherous deeds in this hall.
So I stood there, as the cold sun rose over over the mountains, a cold light. The wind's bitter kiss upon my cheeks froze my tears. I had lost my hope, but I still held my freedom.