*******

Tungolwyn pushed stray wisps blonde hair away from her face as she bent to retrieve the old wicker basket from the ground where it lay discarded. The sun was beat down upon her as she walked along the old dirt path, carrying the basket under her arm. Her destination was the great fields where she was to help collect corn, for Eomer Cyning was hosting a feast in the Golden Hall Meduseld to celebrate the harvest. This had been a ealdgesegen* for as many years as she could remember, but this year was different…

Passing out of the barn she couldn’t help but reflect back upon the past year, and all it symbolized. Rohan had been falling to Shadow even before she was born, but the people began feeling its effects most keenly the past year. When Theoden Cyning was taken under it’s spell. She was grateful for this newfound peace, but it had been bought for a very dear price.

Her own father, Hama, had given his life for Rohan at the attack for Helm’s Deep. She would never forget being in the deep that night. With the sounds of the battle reaching even into the caves. Most of the women were terrified, but she recalled, just as if she were there once more, the only thing that had passed her mind as each scream rent the air was that it could have been her father who had just passed.

When her fears had been confirmed she had just nodded to distraught even for tears. She had never cried for her father, or for any other that had passed. Rohan did not need tears they needed a miracle. A miracle they received, but Her mother wasn’t the only woman widowed by the war, nor was she the only child fatherless.

***

“What of Hama?” her mother had asked. “What of my husband?”

“I’m sorry,” Theoden Cying had said.

It was all a blur after this. Her mother had collapsed crying on her shoulder, and she had just stood there. Theoden had tried to console them or rather her mother, before he was forced to go on, to deliver the message of death to others awaiting the return of loved ones who would never come.

***

Still, the Rohirrim were a hardy folk, so they had picked up the useless shards of thier lives, and carried on. On this day they would celebrate another good year, and bountiful harvest.

She looked up and shook herself, she had been dallying, and her mother would be wroth with her if she did not hurry. She picked up her pace, and soon she saw a great field before her. Hundreds of green cornstalks spanned as far as the eye could see, and already others from the village were there, so she took her place at the front of the line, and began to remove the corn from the great stocks.

***

That night, in the halls of Eomer Cying, a toast was raised for those that yet lived, for their valiant fighting in the War of the Ring, but Tungolwyn found herself reluctant to raise her glass with everone else as her thoughts had turned else where once more.

***

“Mother why must father go away?” she had asked as child.

“Because dearest, he loves you, and wants you to be well thats why!” her mother had replied

“But, why can’t he stay here, so we can be well together?” Asked with childlike innocence she now knew the extent of pain this had caused her mother.

“Because, sometimes if you love something… you have to sacrifice for the love of it… you will understand when you’re older,” He mother had said.

“Oh.” Seeing her mother’s distant expression and strained smile, she had quickly chose not to ask anything further.
***

It was then that the Cying’s voice rose, and brought her back from her memories.

“Let us remember our lost.” All bowed their heads, lost in their own memories.

Afterwards, they drank to the memory of those who had past. This time, though, she found herself eagerly raising her glass, and her thoughts were not elsewhere, they were focused on every person gathered in that great hall. Her thoughts touched people she had never considered before- those that shared her grief to lose one held dear, her will to continue, and the knowledge that another had given up thier life, so that they could live their own. The sacrifice they had made.

‘Yes,’ she thought finally understanding her mother’s words. ‘Father did love Rohan, He loved every person that made Rohan what it is, and he gave his life for that love…’ It was then that she made up her mind ‘I shall, each year upon this day, remember not that we have had a good year or a bad, but that we were given that year by those who gave up everything.’ And with that she let her tears fall.

*******
Translations:
Ye Olde English…..
smeagan- means to remember or to reflect back upon
Tungolwyn- means star-joy ( I know its a corny name, but it’s pretty right?)
Cyning- means king
Ealdgesegen- means ancient tradition or just tradition

Author’s Note:
This story was written for the Harvest Homelist Challenge at HASA- http://www.henneth-annun.net/

Also, I have taken the liberty of asuming they would have corn in Middle-Earth. Corn is from North America, and was harvested by Native Americans, and therefore should not be in Middle-Earth, but I hope you can bear with me on this.