The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim

All Middle Earth knows the tale of the War of the Ring.

But there are older tales.

Tales told around the warm fires on cold winter nights.

Tales passed down from the old to the young.

Tales that light a path through the dark.

Almost 200 years before the Ring ever came to Bilbo Baggins,

there lived a girl.

Her name was Hera, only daughter of Helm, King of Roha.

Born under a harvest moon, her mother

did not live to see the dawn.

Raised alongside two brothers by a warrior king,

the girl could ride a horse before she could walk.

Wild, some called her.

Headstrong railed her father, though in truth,

he was so proud of his tearaway child.

Whoa.

Whoa.

By her hand, many great deeds were done.

But do not look for tales of her in the old songs.

There are none.

Maloney.

Where is the horse?

Where is the rider?

Lost into shadow where I cannot find her.

Long is the road and far from her home.

But fear not my sister, your mere idol.

From mountain top high, cross river bed low,

to wild whispered places she's longing to go.

Feel as she rides into the unknown.

Hera.

You should have seen it, Hummer.

The fledgling took the lure.

Harleth said it wouldn't work.

He said it will tear you limb from limb.

Wait, Hera.

Did you know that the great eagles speak a language

all of their own, but only to wizards?

Will you listen to me?

Wait, whose horses are those?

That's what I've been trying to tell you.

Messengers arrived from the West March.

From Lord Frecker?

Why?

He has called for a witten.

I thought only the king could summon the lords to council.

That is the custom, not the law.

Ollie-win, it's also the custom to tell your ladies

made if you're going to run off and make a snack of yourself

for some great flying beast.

Come on, you need to change.

What's wrong with what I'm wearing?

Hopeless.

Lord Frecker hasn't been to court in years.

Why would he show up now?

You don't think him, he's thinking? I'd like to see him try.

Haleth.

Brother.

I doubt Frecker even remembers how to swing a sword.

He sat idle in the West March too long,

stuffing his face and his pocket.

Fattened, prosperous are when men are at the most dangerous,

Lord Haleth.

It fills them with false courage, and false courage. It fills them with false courage,

and false courage breeds discontent.

Which means what?

It means Lord Frecker has had a long time to think about

all the things he doesn't have.

Frecker has only what we allow, nothing more.

Leaf, you're calling the banners tonight.

My Lord Freilath.

Yes, I am.

It's my first counsel.

I thought I'd learn all the sigils.

But I, um...

I don't recognise that one.

My Lady Hera.

Cousin?

Look at you.

No mud, no twigs in your hair.

One could almost mistake you for a princess of Rohan.

The shield maidens were women of the borderlands.

When all the men were slain,

they took up arms and fought.

They defended Rohan when no-one else could.

Those were darker days.

I've long fought it time to retire that banner.

I doubt there are any of them left.

They're all gone.

Not all of them.

Helm, son of Graham,

Lord of the Erlingas,

Knight! Yes, yes.

They know their king when they see him.

You all look like you're at a funeral.

Fear not, faint hearts.

We'll be done with this business soon enough.

I see you have started without me.

Freca, Lord of the Westmarch,

Lord Wulf, son of Freca,

General Tug of Dunland.

Lord Freca, it has been a while.

You've missed many a council,

though it seems very few meals.

Your mother, Freca, the King Jest.

I see age has not improved your manners, my liege.

Am I not welcome in this great hall?

All loyal men are welcome here.

Ah, but loyal to whom?

Hmm?

To Rohan!

Or to Gondor?

A rumor has reached my ears

that a Gondorian princeling

has made an offer for your daughter's hand.

Do you deny it?

It's none of your business whom my daughter marries.

I say it is.

I say it is all of our business.

I come before this council with an offer to strengthen,

not weaken Rohan.

For too long our houses have squabbled

while Gondor usurps our greatness.

They would respect us, they fear us,

were we truly united.

It is past time for Rohan to stop being Gondor's lapdog.

Consider instead a son of the Westmarch.

I, Wolf, son of Freca,

come before you, Hara, daughter of home.

Wolf, don't.

To seek your hand in marriage.

Well, girl, what do you say?

Hmm?

Enough!

You speak of uniting our people

when it is I who has faced down death, famine, war,

to hold these lands together.

I know why you have come.

Freca, son of Dunland,

you do not seek an alliance.

You seek a throne.

Old kings that refuse a prophet's staff

may fall on their knees.

You do not command the loyalty.

You think you do.

Sire, this is not the place.

My nephew speaks true.

A king does not brawl in his own house.

But men are freer outside.

Wouldn't you agree?

Is this wise uncle?

I know Freca.

He hasn't a noble bone in his body.

Mark my word.

He would not be satisfied with marriage to Hara.

He would see his son on my throne

and my boys in a grave. Time to remind him of his place.

The line of Helm is not so easily broken.

Come away, child.

Leave them be. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Come away, child.

Leave them be.

You did not give an answer.

We should go.

Would it be so bad?

We were inseparable once.

We were children.

She with him.

Oh, hi.

I did not think so much had changed.

Wolf, please.

I care about you.

Lord,

you'd rather marry a stranger from Gondor.

I have no thoughts of marriage at all.

Our fathers speak as if I were not even in the room.

This should be my decision to make.

It should be yours too.

What if I told you this is what I want?

What I've always wanted.

I love you.

No.

I do not want to marry you.

I do not want to marry any man.

You asked for my answer.

You have it.

Here I am.

Come, sister.

I will miss all the fun.

I will miss you. They call her right at home in the rough country.

But no, she's too good for my son.

Your daughter will come crawling on her knees,

begging my son to marry her before the end.

Father!

Get up, Frecka!

Get up and fight!

Father?

He's dead?

No.

Impossible!

I only struck him the once.

You saw him. You owe saw him.