Chapter 7: Journey to Edoras
John Stark squinted against the harsh glare of the midday sun, its rays slicing through the thin fabric of his patched cloak, warming his neck where sweat mingled with dust. The vast Rohan plains unfurled before him, a boundless sea of golden grasses swaying in rhythmic waves, dotted with wildflowers whose faint perfume clashed with the earthy musk rising from his sturdy, rough-coated horse. The beast's hooves struck the ground with a thunderous cadence, each thud reverberating through John's aching thighs, a relentless percussion that synced with the low, persistent hum of the system echoing in his skull. He gripped the reins with raw, blistered hands, his knuckles whitening as he fought to stay upright, the leather saddle creaking beneath him, chafing his skin with every jolting step. Keeping the system's presence a secret gnawed at him, a silent burden heavier than the sword slung at his hip.
Beside him rode Éowyn, her silhouette a vision of effortless grace, her pale gold braid whipping in the wind like a banner of Rohan's pride. Her horse, a sleek chestnut with a glossy coat, moved with a dancer's poise, its breath puffing in soft, rhythmic bursts, while John's mount snorted and tossed its head, testing his shaky control. The wind howled across the plains, sharp as a blade against his exposed cheeks, carrying the pungent reek of horse sweat and the bitter tang of worn leather that coated his tongue like a bitter pill. His legs trembled with the strain, muscles protesting with every shift, yet he masked his struggle with a clenched jaw, pretending the small improvements came from sheer willpower.
"If I fall off, I'm blaming the horse—not my dignity," he thought, a wry smirk tugging at his lips as he adjusted his weight, the grit of dust settling into the creases of his skin.
Éowyn's gaze flicked toward him, her eyes catching the light, a wry smile curving her lips as she assessed his wobbling form.
"You fight better than you ride, Stark. Keep your heels down and give him his head."
He loosened his grip, following her guidance, the subtle shift easing the tension in his thighs, a wave of relief washing over him like cool water. A fleeting memory surfaced—his younger self pedaling a wobbly bike, his father's voice barking instructions, the sting of gravel on his knees—and he realized her tone held no mockery, only a teacher's patience, her words a lifeline in his clumsy journey.
The wind carried a chill now, rustling the grass in soft whispers, as Éowyn's expression darkened, her eyes fixed on the distant, jagged silhouette of Edoras rising against the horizon. Her brow furrowed, a shadow of concern deepening the lines around her mouth, her fingers tightening on her reins.
"The troubles are not just the Dunlendings. They are at the court itself. The King is ill. And there are Edoras troubles—whispers that I cannot ignore."
Wormtongue's name slithered into his mind, a cold serpent coiling in his gut, his hand instinctively brushing the sword hilt, the steel cool and reassuring against his palm.
They paused at a low stream, its waters gurgling over smooth, moss-covered stones, a thin mist rising to kiss the air with dampness. John dismounted with a groan, his legs buckling slightly as his boots sank into the muddy bank, the wet earth squelching beneath him. He bent over, inspecting the saddle's worn straps, the leather rough and gritty under his fingertips, when the HUD flared to life, its hum slicing through his focus like a siren.
[SYSTEM: Riding Mastery: Lv. 3. Steady, rookie. A true horseman now. Tests await at the court.]
A flood of knowledge surged through him—a deep, instinctive understanding of balance and rein control that eased his posture, his thighs no longer screaming with every move. Excitement pulsed in his chest, chased by a flicker of caution, his breath catching as he straightened quickly, fumbling with the tack to disguise the skill alert as a sudden burst of concentration, his fingers trembling with the effort.
Éowyn tilted her head, her braid swaying, curiosity gleaming in her hazel eyes as she watched him with a quiet intensity, the stream's ripple reflecting in her gaze.
"I think this horse is plotting against me. He gave me a dirty look when I got off."
[SYSTEM: Cowboy now? Yee-haw, loser. She's buying it.]
He grimaced, rubbing his stubbled jaw to hide the frown, the coarse hair scraping his palm, the dual strain of physical exhaustion and mental secrecy pressing down like a lead weight on his shoulders.
He drew a deep breath, the cool, moist air cutting through the system's warnings, the scent of wet grass and wild mint grounding him. Thoughts of Wormtongue, Théoden, and the looming war swirled—there was no turning back now.
"Level up or get crushed—time to pick a lane," he mused, swinging back into the saddle, the motion fluid now, his heart thudding with newfound resolve.
As dusk painted the sky in hues of violet and amber, they set up camp near a cluster of jagged rocks, their sharp edges casting long, jagged shadows across the trampled grass. A campfire sputtered to life, its warmth battling the creeping chill, flames licking at the dry wood with hungry crackles, casting a golden glow on Éowyn's face. Above, the stars blazed with an otherworldly brilliance, a vast canopy pressing close, their light dancing in the faint mist rising from the cooling earth.
Éowyn's voice broke the silence, soft as a lullaby, weaving tales of Rohan's kings, their triumphs etched in blood and honor, the history unfolding like a tapestry before John's eyes. Her words carried the weight of generations, the intimacy of her sharing wrapping around him like a warm cloak, the fire's heat seeping into his chilled hands.
John listened, utterly captivated, the tales sinking into his bones like a second skin. He hid quick HUD checks with thoughtful nods, the glow masked by the firelight, absorbing the context that now defined his existence.
"The King, my uncle, was once strong. Fierce," she whispered, her voice trembling as she stared into the flames, their reflection flickering in her tear-brimmed eyes. "But Gríma Wormtongue… he has poisoned my uncle's mind, making him doubt every loyal servant, every sound decision."
Her words painted a sinister tableau, colder than any battlefield, a web of intrigue that tightened his chest with protective anger, his fingers tracing a scar on his forearm, the raised skin a silent testament to past battles.
"Your stories beat my old Netflix binges," he said quietly, an anachronistic quip to ease the tension, his eyes serious beneath the humor, the firelight casting shadows on his face. "It sounds like you need to take out the trash."
[SYSTEM: Charisma: +0.5. Don't swoon, Stark. Just keep the fire lit.]
She offered a sad smile, a flicker of appreciation warming her gaze, the fire's dance reflecting in her pupils.
"The trash is protected by the King's love, twisted though it is. But I must try."
They sat in companionable silence, the fire crackling like a living thing, horses stamping softly nearby, their breaths visible in the cooling air. John felt a shift—he was no longer just a stranger, but a companion, a defender woven into Middle-earth's grand, terrifying puzzle.
The White Mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks shrouded in mist, and Edoras perched atop a rocky outcrop, a fortress carved from ancient stone, its silhouette more trap than sanctuary under the fading light.
"Edoras—castle or cage? Time to roll the dice," he thought, his hand resting on his sword, the weight a grim promise of battles to come.
In a quiet moment, John knelt by the stream, splashing cold water on his face, the shock of it reviving him. Éowyn joined him, her reflection shimmering beside his, and they shared a silent exchange, her hand brushing his arm—a fleeting, humanizing touch amid the looming threat.
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
To supporting Me in Pateron .
Love [ Lord Of The Rings Pleasse Kill Me System ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [ Lord Of The Rings Pleasse Kill Me System ] with exclusive access to 35+ chapters on my Patreon, plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $5/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [ Game Of Throne ,MCU and Arrowverse, Breaking Bad , The Walking dead ,The Hobbit,Wednesday].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!