By now, the people of Edoras had given their Golden Heir and his mother names of their own. To the Riders and townsfolk alike, the Princess was the Shield of Rohan, strong and steady, while her son was the Golden Storm, brilliant, relentless, and impossible to contain.
"Where the Shield stands, the Storm rages," they joked, "and the kingdom is better for it."
The Princess pretended to dislike the title, but even she couldn't hide the smile when she overheard children chanting, "Storm and Shield, Storm and Shield!" as they played in the streets.
Edwen's next obsession was not walls or swords, but healing. Too many Riders, he argued, fell to wounds that might have been treated with better knowledge.
He pored over herbs, minerals, and anatomy sketches, writing manuals on fevers, infections, and wounds. He taught healers to boil water to purify it, to wash their hands before tending wounds, and to stitch deep cuts with clean thread.
His crowning idea was the creation of a hall of healing, a place where knowledge and care gathered under one roof. The first hospital in Rohan.
"Riders deserve more than a quick prayer and a clean bandage," he told the council. "They deserve to live."
The Princess, skeptical at first, watched as men who might have lost limbs walked again, and children who once would have died from fevers grew strong. "This… this may be your finest work yet," she admitted softly.
But Edwen was never content with one victory. If Riders rode to war, then Riders should also carry healing.
He began training a corps of field medic soldiers, taught to treat wounds on the battlefield. He showed them how to stop bleeding with pressure, how to set broken bones, and how to use clean water instead of dirty rags.
The Riders teased him at first, calling them "bandage-boys" instead of warriors. That changed after the first battle drill, when the medics treated bruises and cuts in moments while others still limped. Soon, every Rider wanted at least one medic in their company.
"They'll save more lives than swords," Edwen said proudly.
Of course, every success came with chaos.
Once, he tested a new disinfectant made from distilled spirits by spilling it across the floor. The flames from a nearby torch set the entire hall alight in seconds. Edwen dove into the blaze to smother it with cloaks, emerging half-scorched but triumphant.
"See? It works!" he declared proudly.
His mother shrieked, "It nearly worked you into ashes!"
The servants laughed about it for weeks. "The Storm tried to burn himself out, but the Shield would not let him."
Another time, while demonstrating how boiling could clean water, he left a pot unattended. The entire kitchen flooded with steam, and half the cooks fled. When his mother stormed in, coughing and glaring, Edwen held out a cup and said innocently, "At least it's safe to drink now."
The Princess groaned, but the people roared with laughter when they heard the tale.
Rohan was changing. Where once it was known only for horses and Riders, now it was whispered about across the plains for its knowledge and healing. Travelers marveled at the new library, the towering walls, the schools where even shepherds' sons could read, and now the hospitals that saved lives once thought doomed.
At the heart of it all were the Storm and the Shield, the mother who steadied the land, and the son who shook it with his brilliance and antics.
And though she often rubbed her temples in exasperation, the Princess knew one truth: Rohan had never been stronger.