Chapter 1
A Departure
It was cold, and the wind was blowing. The City of Edoras seemed deserted, except for a large group of riders, gathering outside the palace. Nearby, in a small house, a group of women were huddled together, talking anxiously in quiet voices. A girl of about 12 stood outside, staring up into the sky. Suddenly, she turned, and ran down the steps toward the riders.

‘Éomer! Éomer!’ she was calling. A man, who was mounting his horse, turned. She ran up.
‘I want to go with you. There’s nothing for me here now.’
He smiled. ‘You are brave and strong, Indis. I do not doubt that you could stand the hardships that we will face. But you must stay. For you have no errand to the west.’
Éomer placed his hand on her shoulder, and gave her an encouraging look. Then he turned, and mounting his horse, rode off, the riders following. The girl was left alone. A single tear trickled down her cheek, but she angrily brushed it aside, and ran back into the house.

The next day, the girl was sitting at a loom, when there was a loud and anxious knock on the door. She got up and went to open it. When she did, she started with surprise. A guard from the palace stood there.
‘May I help you?’ She asked.
‘I am looking for one called Indis,’ he said.
‘I am she.’
‘I was told that you are skilled in the craft of healing.’
She paused. ‘My- my father taught me some of his craft, yes. But I am not skilled, as he was.’
‘ You must come with me. The prince Théodred is dying, and there is no other healer to be found in the city.’
‘But what of old Erugond, the palace healer?’
‘Murdered.’
‘Murdered? How-’
‘There is no time now. Get what things you need. I will wait outside. Make Haste!’

Indis turned, and ran to the room that she shared with two other girls. In the corner stood a chest that had belonged to her father. She hastily opened it, and brought out a large leather pouch.
‘What is it, Indis? There is a guard outside the house, and he is as silent as a stone!’
Another girl stood in the doorway.
‘I don’t have time.’ Indis replied shortly.
‘Time for what? Really, Indis. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!’
Indis sighed. ‘I love you Menelwen, but please, let me alone!’
She picked up the pouch, threw on her cloak, and ran out the door.

Chapter 2
The Prince of the Golden Hall

The guard was still waiting outside. Without speaking, they hurried up the road to the Golden Hall. The guard did not go up the long stairs to the main hall, but took Indis through a small door nearby. Once inside, they went down winding passages, dark corridors, until Indis lost all sense of direction. Then, he stopped in front of another small door, and opened it. Inside, there was a room like Indis had never seen before. Rich brocades covered the walls, the floor was covered with furs, and in the middle of the room, there was a bed, and on the bed, was the prince.
Indis walked over and peered down into his face. He was deathly pale, and his eyes stared up into space, seeing nothing. She frowned, and started to take away the layers of wrapping bound over his wounds.
After examining them and re-wrapping them, she turned to the guard, but he was gone. In his place was the lady Éowyn.
‘My Lady…I do not know how to say this, but… I am afraid- the prince- I am afraid that there is nothing I, nor any healer that has ever lived, can do to save him. I am sorry.’
Éowyn said nothing, but continued to stare at the prince.
‘His wounds were poisoned to begin with,’ Indis continued, ‘If the poison had been drawn out immediately, he might have had a chance, but by now it has had it’s chance to do it’s foul work. I will do what I can to ease his pain, but there is nothing else I can do.’

Around midnight, Indis left the room, utterly exhausted. She was weeping. The prince had died.

The next morning, Indis stood outside her home. The sky was grey and hostile, and the wind was hard.

A cry came from the palace. There were people running towards it. Curious, Indis followed them.
An amazing sight greeted her eyes.

There was the king, with a sword in hand, advancing towards a groveling figure. To see the king was astonishing enough, but who the figure was, even more. It was the king’s adviser, Grima the Wormtounge.

A small boy pressed against her. It was Félerolf, her smaller brother.

‘What’s he doing, Indis? What’s he doing?’

The king raised his sword to strike. Indis gasped and covered the boy’s eyes.

‘No, My Lord!’

A man came hurtling down the steps and held back the sword. He spoke to the king for a few moments, then Grima came raging towards the people gathered below the palace.

‘Get out of my way!’ He screeched, and pushed his way through.

Indis frowned. Something was very strange here. She had heard that the king had become old and feeble, unable to even walk any distance, yet here he was, trying to kill a man!

‘Hail, Théoden King!’ The man cried. They all fell to their knees. As Indis looked up, she saw Theoden almost glare at the man, who also bent his knee. Then he turned, and she heard him ask where Théodred was.