Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Like Fathers, Like Sons (#1513)
Author: Frigg
Chapters: 3

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings (Movieverse)
Description: Set about twenty years after the War of the Ring; our usual heroes are getting older (but are they wiser?), but they have young sons to follow in their footsteps. My first story consisting of more than one chapter .... A/N: I read it again - and have now made some minor adjustments. Nothing textwise.
Published: 11 Jan 2005
Updated: 11 Jan 2005
Warnings: None, except for a lot of sappyness and silliness
Type: Humour
Characters: Éomer; Lothíriel; and Others


Chapter 1 - Part One

LIKE FATHERS, LIKE SONS

Part One

Éomer, King of Rohan, shook his head to get his still golden mane of hair away from his face and strove to hide a smile as he looked at his son, the heir to the throne of Rohan – and his queen, the mother of his son. The queen’s eyes glinted angrily, as she accompanied her son into his father’s study. Apparently he was in trouble of some sort, at least with his mother.

“What has happened, or rather what have you been up to now?” he asked.

Elfwine was seventeen and the very image of his father: tall, already broad shouldered and blond – and with the same devil luring in his dark eyes.

“He and Hama have been spying on the kitchen maids bathing; that’s is what your son and heir has been up to; Beordlin caught them doing it.” Lothíriel also had difficulty restraining her mirth as she looked into her husband’s eyes, but she kept the façade.

“Is this true?” Éomer raised an eyebrow quizzically and looked at his son. The young man raised his head, which he had kept lowered under his mother’s gaze, and looked straight into his father’s eyes.

“Yes, father, it is true, but it was an accident, really. We did not mean to; we were just passing by, and they just happened to catch our eyes …...”

“To my knowledge, there is only a small porthole in the door?” his mother hissed.

“Aha, and you did not avert your gazes once you realised the ‘accident’,” Éomer ascertained, his mirth threatening to show in his voice.

Lothíriel shot her husband a look of warning, and the king continued, in the same voice as he used when talking to new recruits.

“Elfwine, this is not a way for a future King of Rohan to behave; I trust that you know that! Have I not told you to treat everybody with respect? Do not think yourself above the people, just because your title is Prince of the Mark. I will consult with my marshal and we shall think of an appropriate punishment for the both of you. In the meantime, I want you and Hama to go to the kitchen and apologise to the girls in question – and I mean now!”

Elfwine shot his father a glance, but recoiled. He did not like this at all, but he knew that once his father had made up his mind this was it. “Yes, father”, he said bowing slightly to his parents and went to find his partner in crime.

Once Elfwine had left his father’s study, his parents looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Oh, that boy. He really is so much like you that it is almost uncanny,” Lothíriel gasped when she got her breath back.

“Yes, in this respect he most certainly is; at least he takes after his mother as far as his more intellectual skills are concerned.” Éomer smiled at his wife and went over to take her in his arms; even after eighteen years of marriage the two of them still could behave like newly-weds. He kissed her smilingly “and he so knows to control his temper, must take after his mother in that respect, too.”

“Oh, you big oaf” Lothíriel basked him teasingly “and he has the same talent for mischief as his father, apparently. How do you intend to punish them?”

“Just like I and Éothain were punished by Théoden when we engaged in a similar activity once; a month of stable duty will teach them a lesson – at least for a while,” he added with an impish grin.

Lothíriel laughed, “Hmm, and you claim to have learned your lesson, do you? “ She shook her head and left him to his work; Éomer blew a kiss at her and concentrated on his paperwork.

Elfwine stormed out of the study, headed for the doors. On his way out he passed his two year younger brother. Haldred called after him. “What happened, Elfwine? Why did mother take you to see father?” Haldred had a notion that he might know; there was only little, which could be kept a secret within the walls of Edoras.

Elfwine just passed him by and ran towards the stables. Haldred turned to his sisters Théodwyn and Ciera, who were fourteen and twins. “Do you know? What is he so angry about?”

The twins shook their heads. Although they were twins they were not identical; Théodwyn looked very much like her mother, same green eyes and dark hair whereas Ciera was blond and grey-eyed, both of them already young ladies. Haldred looked like his grandfather Imrahil; tall, slim, dark-haired and grey-eyed. The two youngest, Bronwen who was eight and who looked very much like her aunt Éowyn, and Théodred, only five and another exact copy of the king, were playing on the floor, looking at their older siblings wondering what the commotion was all about.

Imrahil had often, influenced by the good ale at Rohan, reflected that the younger generation of royalty both in Gondor, Rohan, Ithilien, and Dol Amroth thought that they were the only ones to populate Middle Earth at the rate that they had children. On one occasion Éomer had told his father-in-law and friend that considering how much fun it was making them, he could not see why they should stop, and after all, as far as Rohan was concerned, it was Imrahil’s own daughter, who has promised to fill Meduseld with their children.

Imrahil had just shaken his head at that remark; Lothíriel had laughed and stated that she gave birth to her children with ease, handled them with no great difficulty and loved them very much and thus did not find it a burden.

Further Éomer had added with a sly grin that Imrahil himself had set an example for the younger generation; had he not four children himself? The rest of the company, including Aragorn and Faramir had chuckled into their goblets thinking that it was typical of Éomer to put forward such remarks.

Haldred followed his brother to the stables and found him in Greymane’s stall. Greymane was the son of his father’s mighty steed, Firefoot, which had borne him during the war of the Ring and which was now laid to rest with his forefathers. His father’s new stallion, Wingfoot, stood in the next stall and snorted softly when he saw the boys.

“What is it,” the younger brother asked, “why was mother so furious and why were you running like that?” The fifteen year old looked inquisitively at his brother.

“Nothing that you would understand, little brother,” the older brother replied, his voice muffed. Haldred, who was explicitly his mother’s son, did not take no for an answer.

“Try me,” he said, “could it for instance have something to do with you and a certain friend of yours named Hama and your escapades at the girls’ bathhouse?”

Elfwine could not help smiling “You are a most precocious 15-year old”, he said, “yes, and father has told us to apologise to the girls and that we will receive a punishment. It is not the punishment that ails me, but it is so embarrassing to have to apologise to the girls in front of everybody!”

“Aye, and what if Calla finds out, eh?” Haldred looked at his brother inquisitively.

Elfwine blushed beyond his hair roots; Calla was the oldest daughter of his father’s Third Marshal, Elfhelm, and Elfwine had had a crush on her for quite some time. She was fifteen and a true daughter of Rohan, tall, blonde and with large, blue eyes.

“She probably will; somebody is bound to tell her you can’t keep a secret within the walls of Edoras,” he said.

Hama entered the stables in search of Elfwine. “I thought I would find you here,” he said. “I have just received the worst scolding, I have ever had. I suppose that you did too. Exactly what did your father say?”

“He did not say as much as mother did, but he ordered me to apologise to the girls, and then tonight he will announce which punishment we should receive. So, I suppose that we had better get around to it, knowing father he will not let us off the hook so easily.” The two young men looked at each other, shrugged and went to the kitchen to get it over with.

The large kitchen at Meduseld was humming with life as usual, everything overseen by the housekeeper, Beordlin, who had taken over when Fréalin grew too old to work all day. All activity stopped when the boys entered the room; it usually did not just because the children came in, but from the look on the boys’ faces, the servants could tell that this was not one of the usual visits to beg for a snack between meals.

Elfwine cleared his throat and addressed the three young kitchen maids, who were busy preparing the evening meal for the court. “Hama and I – we, well, would like to apologise for our behaviour; it shall never repeat itself and we trust that you will take no offence. We really did not mean to dishonour you.”

Hama added: “We are truly sorry that we did this to you.” They bowed their heads to the girls; Elfwine looked directly at the girls; however embarrassing this was, he was still their prince and his father’s son and therefore had to endure anything what might come. Beordlin smiled and said, “I think the girls agree; this incident is forgotten and your apology accepted, Your Highness.”

Elfwine and Hama took their leave and went out into free air, and luckily did not hear the kitchen erupt with laughter. Varda, the cook, and Beordlin looked at each other.

“Yes, he is truly his father’s son – in more ways than one”, Varda said, thinking of a time when the present king was merely a boy of fifteen and more or less in the same situation as Elfwine, and faced a similar ordeal and subsequent punishment with stoic presence. At the time she had only been a young maid in the service of Théoden King. “And it is not all that bad to be looked at by a man like that,” she mused, smiling to herself at the memory.

Éomer and Éothain had summoned their sons to the king’s study after the evening meal. The boys had been quite subdued during the meal, not contributing much to the usual banter and chattering, which characterised the very informal court of Rohan. Elfwine’s siblings had looked inquisitively at their older brother, but his face had given away nothing.

Éomer and Lothíriel had watched their son. Beordlin had told them of the boys’ visit to the kitchen regions. Éomer was amused, but also proud of his son; he had obviously swallowed a lot of his pride to make the apology – and it tore at him, he could tell.

“You are right, Lothy,” he whispered to his wife, “he is so very much like me that it is almost scary.”

After dinner, Éomer sat behind his desk and Éothain had taken a position behind the king’s chair looking solemnly at their boys. Éomer cleared his throat, furrowing his brows: “I understand from Beordlin that you have already made your apologies to the girls?”

The boys nodded.

“Very well, then – your punishment will be that you take up the position as stable boys for the next month; shovelling muck and being at the men’s beck and call morning and night for that period will, perhaps, teach you a lesson that you will never forget about treating servants in a civil manner and treating women with respect. Report to the stable master tomorrow morning. And, of course, you will still have to attend your tutoring and your weapons’ training.”

The boys answered, “Yes, Sire” and bowed to the king.

“Dismissed”, Éomer said and nodded to them. The boys left the room.

“Cursing under their breath, no doubt” Éothain said, looking at his king and friend.

“Possibly, I remember I did”, said Éomer. “Well, it will not cure them from looking at girls; well, I sincerely hope not – but it will at least cure them from sneaking in on them.”

“Did it cure you?” Éothain chuckled.

“Yes, at least from sneaking,” the king grinned roguishly “and of course for the past many years I have only been looking at my wife.” The two men chuckled and went to join their wives by the fire in the Great Hall.

Haldred had been waiting in the corridor. ”What happened?” he asked.

Elfwine cast him a dark look: “It is bad – well, not really that bad, except for the fact that we have to muck stables for the next month, morning and night as well as the other things, we have to do.”

“Fairly reasonably, I should say. Father is not an unjust man,” Haldred offered.

“No, he is not”, said Elfwine, “I suppose we deserve it.”

“Yes” said Hama, “we do; I will go home and go to bed. We have to be up early in the morning.” Elfwine and Haldred bid him goodnight and went to their room.

“Promise me, Haldred, that you will not tell Calla.”

“Of course not, brother of mine” Haldred smiled, “I will keep your secret – although I do not think that anybody else will, but if she cares for you, she will forgive you.” Elfwine thought that he certainly hoped so and went to bed, thinking of what Calla would say if she knew.

Éomer and his marshal told their wives how their sons had reacted to the punishment. “None too well about the nature of it, it tears at their pride, but they will overcome, after all it is only a little hard work and a bit of smirking that they will have to survive.”

Soon afterwards, the king and queen bid their guests goodnight and went to their rooms. On the way they stopped at the children’s rooms as they were wont and had done since they had their firstborn seventeen years ago. All were soundly asleep, and as Lothíriel were tucking in her youngest, Théodred, she smiled tenderly.

“They are so different even the girls, and yet so alike; they would gladly give their lives for each other even though they argue all day, but then so did my brothers and I.”

Éomer put his arm around her shoulders, “And so did Éowyn and I, and still I love her dearly; if you cannot fight your siblings who then can you fight?”

The king and queen went to their rooms, Éomer still with his arm round his wife, and prepared for bed. As Éomer lay in bed waiting for Lothíriel to join him, he thought about his friends and liege-lords.

“It has been a while since we saw your father and brothers; yes, and the families from Gondor and Ithilien as well. It is almost the time of the harvest festival in Gondor. This year at least the oldest children should be allowed to participate.”

“Yes that would indeed be a good idea; except that we shall have to keep a close eye on the three heirs; once you put these three together I fear that it will be as bad as having their fathers together, and when you add Elphir’s eldest, well then …”

“Yes” Éomer concurred “just as bad as adding you or Éowyn to the cocktail; I seem to recall that our niece takes very well, indeed, after her aunt!”

Lothíriel jumped into bed and flung herself at him “You will pay for that remark, my lord and husband,” she grinned.

“See what I mean; you are supposed to be a lady and now you are attacking me, and I know what that means.” He put his mouth over hers, claiming it in a passionate kiss; “I may be getting older, but I still remember how to get to you to squirm, Milady.”

“There is no doubt about that, Milord – but have you thought about what your children would say, if they knew how you behave?”

“I have, but it does not bother me”, he grinned, shutting her mouth again.

----ooOOoo----

The weeks went by; Elfwine and Hama had overcome their punishment and life was almost back to normal. Eventually the reason for the punishment had reached Calla, and she seemed to regard Elfwine with a little less warmth than usual. Lothíriel had noticed that her son had been casting long looks in Calla’s direction and that the girl now seemed a bit colder towards her son.

“If she can not forgive him a small error like that; then she is not worthy of our son”, she remarked to Éomer.

“Well, when you think of what you had to endure from me and still forgave me for, I tend to agree with you. Still they are way too young; she might come around.”

“How young were you the first time you thought you were in love and that this was the love of your life?” Lothíriel inquired.

“About his age, and I got over it soon enough. However, it does not seem as if he is all that heartbroken. And besides, we are leaving for Minas Tirith in a couple of days and there will be plenty of things to distract him, among others a Gondorian princess. If she looks anything like her mother, then he will have forgotten Calla before you know it.”

“I am aware of your deep and long infatuation with the Queen of Gondor, dear husband, and I still do not know how to deal with it. Lothíriel teased, “I do not how Aragorn endures it,”

“Because, Lothy, he knows that you are still and always will be the first in my heart.” Éomer kissed her soundly, just as Haldred, the twins and Bronwen passed them in the hallway.

“Béma, they are at it again. No wonder that we are so many,” sighed Théodwyn, the more precocious of the twins and her father’s favourite, being as straightforward as him.

Their parents laughed, and Lothíriel blushed a little bit. “Mind your tongue, young lady,” she said, “you are much to forward for a princess”. Éomer looked at his daughter, and could not help smiling as the teenager frowned.

The children smiled fondly at their parents; although it was a bit embarrassing that their parents showed their love towards each other so openly at times, they loved them very much and would really not have them any other way.

Ciera, who had a more romantic nature than her sister, sighed. “I think that it is so romantic. When I get married, I want it to be like that.”

Haldred looked at his sister.

“As if anybody would ever want to marry you, sister dear,” he teased. Ciera, though a very gentle girl, lashed out after her big brother, who deftly ducked the blow. Bronwen and Théodwyn giggled.

“And now you are at it again,” Éomer growled. “Get out of here, you lot and let your mother and I have some peace and quiet for once. Go do something productive such as your homework or mind your training --- or pack for a journey to Minas Tirith.”

“Minas Tirith” cried the children, “you mean that we are all going to the harvest festival, even us,” the girls cried.

“Yes, I have just decided that we are going to bring you all, even Théodred, if for nothing else just to shut you up. I am sure that your grandfather would love to see you all –-- although for my life I cannot think of why. Go tell Elfwine and Théodred.”

The children hurried out to find their brothers to tell them the news.

“You really are serious, aren’t you,” Lothíriel laughed, “but why not; their cousins will be there, and Eldarion and his sisters would also love to see them.”

“Aye,” Éomer said with a roguish grin, “and then their parents might get some time to themselves, as their children will have other things to occupy them.”

A couple of days later, the large party left for Minas Tirith. Éothain and Wyn accompanied the king and queen as did their wives, who were Lothíriel’s ladies in waiting. The Royal Guard escorted them. Éomer and Éothain had discussed it and found it wise to bring an éored, just in case.

The children had all ridden since they were quite young and all had their own horses, except for little Théodred, who only had a small pony. He was considered too small to ride for himself as yet and therefore rode in the cart with his mother and her maid. Sometimes his father let him ride in front of him on Wingfoot to give his mother a bit of rest from the boisterous young son of hers. Lothíriel much preferred to ride herself, and she did so when Éomer took care of their son.

The banner of Rohan with the White Horse flew over the heads of the king and his sons. Elfwine, who rode beside his father, looked at it proudly. Éomer watched his sons. They did have the makings of very fine soldiers, both of them. Éomer had observed his sons during training and knew that they were skilled in the use of spear, bow and sword, although Haldred excelled most with the bow. Being slim and wiry like an elf, he did not yet have the strength of his brother to match him with the other weapons.

“He will eventually; especially as he resembles his grandfather and uncles very much,” Éomer thought.

He turned his attention towards Elfwine. These past few months, the weapons training combined with the physical work in the stables had put some muscles on him and he looked almost grown up.

“Seventeen years old; at that age Théodred had already introduced me to the mead halls and what was in them”, he mused. “I certainly hope that no one will do him that favour, although I do know a couple of my men, who would gladly take on the task. Well, if they do, I hope that they will at least be able to keep it from his mother. She would kill them and me as well.” He smiled to himself at the thought.

Elfwine had been watching his father and saw the smile on his face. “He does look like a young man, when he smiles like that,” he mused and suddenly understood why his mother had fallen so deeply in love with his father all those years ago. His mother had also seen the look on her husband’s face.

“Right now he looks no older than his son does,” she thought, “but I would give a few coins to know what my husband is thinking; probably something quite inappropriate, judging from the mischievous look”.

After three days’ ride, the company reached the borders of Gondor and could see Minas Tirith at a distance. The White City lay in the autumn sunlight and the Tower of Echtilion glittered like jewels. Only the two eldest had actually been to Minas Tirith before. The children gasped at the sight, “it is beautiful, but so is Edoras when the sun catches the Golden Hall”, Haldred said and the other children agreed.

“I like it that you are so loyal to our country, but you are allowed to admire Minas Tirith as well,” Éomer laughed.

The party from Rohan rode up the winding road to the castle of the king. Their arrival having been announced, Aragorn, Arwen and their children stood on the steps welcoming them. Éomer jumped down lithely and helped his wife down, while the boys attended to their sisters.

“Welcome, dear friends,” said Aragorn, clasping arms with Éomer “it is good to see you again”. He kissed Lothíriel’s hand. Éomer greeted Queen Arwen with a polite bow and kissed her hand. She smiled “Welcome, Éomer King” and embraced Lothíriel warmly.

“Faramir and Éowyn will be arriving tomorrow and they too are bringing the entire litter,” Aragorn rumbled “and along with our lot and those of your brothers, Lothíriel, I fear that the castle will never be the same again; neither will the city. I suppose we will have to bring in Gimli’s dwarves again to rebuild it.”

Éomer laughed heartily at this, knowing that Aragorn probably was just a little bit right; after all he knew what his own children were capable of.

“Father and the others are here already?” Lothíriel cried, “how wonderful”.

Aragorn then greeted the children. First the Heir of Rohan. “It is just as seeing Éomer the first time I met him on the plains of Rohan; the same dark, severe look and the same pride. He will make a good king one day, I trust.”

The children curtsied to the King and Queen of Gondor and then they turned to their friends, the children of Aragorn and Arwen. Eldarion, the eldest and heir to the throne embraced his friend.

“It is so good to see you, it’s been a long time and I have a lot to tell you; after all with four sisters I tend to miss male companionship every once in a while!” he exclaimed.

Elfwine laughed and pointed to Haldred. “You are welcome to my annoying younger brother here for a while – or would you prefer Théodred?” He indicated his youngest brother, who at the moment was sitting on his father’s arm; he had been sleeping in the cart and was still looking very sleepy. Eldarion laughed and embraced Haldred as well, before he turned to their sisters.

The young Heir of Gondor was only a few months older than Elfwine, tall and dark-haired like his parents and with a pair of haunting grey-blue eyes like his father. His Elvish blood was evident, but he was also very much his father’s son. He was worth looking at, thought the twins. Ciera was not that attracted to him; she already had other preferences among the young Riders of Rohan, as her mother knew well and kept at awe, but Théodwyn was stunned, blushing shyly as she curtsied to the prince.

“Oh, do not do that, Théodwyn, you know me better than that,” Eldarion smiled. He took her hand and looked into her very green eyes and got lost for a moment.

Elfwine and Haldred greeted Eldarion’s sisters. As Éomer had foreseen, the two oldest princesses of Gondor, by now fifteen and thirteen were dark, Elvish beauties like their mother, whereas the two younger girls were more their father’s daughters.

Haldred still seemed more interested in meeting with his cousins from Ithilien and Dol Amroth to discuss weapons and horses, but in a split second Elfwine had forgotten all about Calla as he saw Celebrian, the eldest Princess of Gondor. The same blue eyes as her mother’s looked directly and smilingly at him and the same dark hair was flowing in waves down her back.

“It has been a long time, princess” he mumbled, bowing over her hand. Celebrian looked up at the tall, young prince and liked what she saw: long, blonde hair, broad shoulders and a handsome face with hazel eyes.

Éomer grinned to himself and whispered to Aragorn: “I foresaw this that this would happen, when my boy met your eldest. He would feel as I did when I saw your wife for the first time: the day could never be the same to me when I met the night. Very similar to the pang I felt when I saw Lothy for the first time.”

Aragorn grinned back. “Aye, I seem to remember that moment very well, but you were a little older than those two. And look at Eldarion, playing the courtier to your Théodwyn. Whatever is the matter with them?”

“Hormones, I believe,” Éomer said dryly. “Poor boy; he does not know what hit him. She is about the worst combination of her mother and me that you will find.” Arwen and Lothíriel had overheard their conversation and shook their heads at their men.

All this was interrupted as Lothíriel’s father, brothers, and their families came rushing down the stairs to meet the Rohirrim. Imrahil embraced his daughter and then embraced his son-in-law. He was getting older; his hair almost white now but he still looked strong and fit.

He held out his arms and his Rohirrim grandchildren rushed to him, embracing their grandfather warmly. He smiled, looking at their happy faces. He lifted up Bronwen, who giggled happily at her beloved grandfather.

“The little Shield Maiden” Aragorn chuckled. “Is she as bold and brave as her aunt?” he asked.

Éomer grunted, “She is – and worse, for with the blood of Lothy thrown in, you would expect nothing less.”

Imrahil set her down and in stead lifted up a laughing, boisterous five-year old that was finally wide-awake. “And another true son of Éomer,” he grinned, “your blood is strong, Éomer, to produce such sons.” He smiled warmly at his oldest Rohirrim grandchild, who stood beside him. Elfwine smiled back at his grandfather.

Imrahil then put his free arm around Haldred: “It is good to see that the Dol Amrothians are also represented in Rohan,” he said smilingly as he looked into eyes that were so like his own.

Haldred smiled; he was very fond of his grandfather and uncles, especially because he was so like them. He particularly had been looking forward to seeing his oldest female cousin, Amrihil, the oldest child of Prince Elphir. Amrihil and the oldest son of Echirion, Isindir, were the closest to his age. During the children’s visits to Dol Amroth, these three had always been the source of all mischief. The oldest Princess of Ithilien, Finduilas, often helped them in this; though younger than the others, she was very much Éowyn’s daughter and very much part of this troublesome group. The other children of Lothíriel’s brothers were younger, more of the age of the youngest children from Rohan and Ithilien.

Finally the greetings were completed and all the children were mixed in one large group of giggling and chatting dark and blond heads.

Aragorn looked at the lot: “I am beginning to see what you mean, my friend,” he said to Imrahil “it is as we really are thinking that we alone should populate Middle Earth.”

“Yes, and the Ithilien party is not even here yet,” Arwen laughed, “I think that the midday meal is ready by now; let’s all inside. Celebrian and Eldarion, will you see to it that your guests are well provided for.”

She gestured to the servants who were especially appointed to take care of the children. “I have seen to it that they are seated away from us, at least for now. They are all entitled to a little time away from us and to get acquainted again.” The two eldest of the Gondorian children nodded and the younger part of the company left together with the servants, all of them chatting merrily between them.

After the meal, the children split up. The youngest children took off to play under the supervision of maids and nannies. The eldest girls went to the princesses’ chambers to look at gowns, “and to chatter about boys, presumably” as Éomer put it.

The only exception was Amrihil, who went with Haldred and Isindir. “Probably to figure out some mischief,” her father Elphir remarked.

The heirs to the kingdoms of Gondor and Rohan went to the stables to see to their horses, and get a little time away from their siblings and parents.

In the adjoining dining room, the parental generation had enjoyed their meal in peace and quiet, except for the usual bantering between the men. Legolas and Gimli, who had come from their corners of Middle Earth, had joined the party. Gimli was, as usual, rumbling about the size of the royal families.

He, of course, took special pleasure in teasing Éomer about his and Lothíriel’s rowdy litter. Gimli and Éomer had had a special relationship ever since they met on the plains of Rohan and Éomer had threatened to cut off the dwarf’s head. Lothíriel had always enjoyed the banter between her husband and the dwarf and knew that it was only the dwarf’s special way of showing his affection. He treated Legolas and Aragorn much the same way.

“My dear queen,” he said, “if I were you, I would not let that ruffian near my bed again; Meduseld must be quite overfull by now.”

Éomer laughed heartily. “If my wife looked anything like you, Gimli, you could rest quite assured that I would not come near you. Looking at you, I can certainly understand why people tend to believe that dwarves just spring out of stones!”

His eyes twinkled merrily as he looked at his friends; Legolas and Aragorn shared a big grin and the rest of the party, even the Princesses of Dol Amroth, could not help laughing.

Lothíriel dried the tears of mirth from her eyes. “I am glad that the children left the room before you started this conversation, and if you are going to continue, I think that we should retire to – yes, anywhere but here. Don’t you think so, Arwen?”

Arwen smiled. “Yes and leave the men to their fun; I think you are right, Lothíriel.”

Lothíriel rose and bent down to kiss her husband’s cheek. “Not that Arwen and I mind this banter very much, but I can tell from the looks of my sisters-in-law that they might not find it as funny as we do,” she whispered into his ear. “I think that I will go and check what my two youngest versions of the famous Rohan siblings are up to, probably no good.” she added.

The men rose to see the ladies off, and then settled down again – “to more serious business” as Aragorn put it, as he lit his pipe, offering the tobacco to Gimli.

Éomer leaned back, stretching out his long legs, looking contentedly at his friends with a big grin on his face.

“What a nice way to get the ladies out of here,” Aragorn grinned. “Some time you two have to show me how you do it.”

Elphir smiled “It is good being back, my Lord,” he said to Aragorn “and it is good to see that my brother-in-law have not lost his touch, especially on my sister.”

“It has not been that long, dear brother,” Éomer grinned, “did you really think that I would lose my touch in such short time?”

He continued, “but I agree with you; it is good to have some time of leisure. Sometimes the duties seem to tower up. At times I really do wish that I was back at Aldburg, minding my business as the Third Marshal and nothing else.”

Aragorn looked at him, “and just being an orc killer, you mean? You might get a chance of that, my friend, before you know it. Also for that reason I am glad that the ladies left us. Faramir sent me reports just the other day that some activity has been spotted south of Gondor. It could be orcs; it could be Southrons, I do not yet know, but something tells me that we have to be alert, even amid the festivities.”

The men fell silent at this; Éomer looked at Aragorn, ever the soldier. “I trust your instincts; I am glad that I at least brought an éored and I trust that you, Imrahil, also come prepared?”

“Indeed,” Imrahil replied, “apart from the three rogues sitting there, I have brought a hundred knights of the Swan Legion. Old habits die hard, you know.” The men settled down to discuss the prospects, if indeed the rumours were true.


Chapter 2 - Part Two

Part Two

Meanwhile, the two crown princes had reached the stables. Elfwine admired Eldarion’s stallion, a descendent of Brégo, Aragorn’s legendary steed; the horse that had first belonged to his long dead great-uncle, Théodred and then had borne Aragorn through many battles.

Elfwine looked at his friend: “Do you think that we and Elboron for that matter will ever get a chance of proving ourselves in battle? Our fathers being what they are, soldiers at heart, have made sure that we are trained like they were –- but do you ever think that we will get to use that training?”

“I do not know,” Eldarion answered “and I am not quite sure that I want to know. However, I have heard father and his counsellors talking of some activity being spotted to the South; Faramir has sent in reports of this; so may be we will after all.”

“Speaking of something else, I am not sure that I fancy the way you look at my sister. You may be a friend, but take it easy,” the Heir of Gondor said to his friend, a smile lurking in his eyes.

“Peace, my friend; I do not intend to marry within the next couple of years – and while we are at it, I noticed that a certain young Prince of Gondor could not take his eyes of my sister. Eldarion, I know that she is pretty, but she is only fourteen, by Béma.” Elfwine grinned.

“Steady on, man, I feel like you; I have much to do yet before I am going to settle down, but I feel in my Elvish blood that she is the one that I could be marrying some day.” Eldarion insisted.

“She could find worse, my friend.” Elfwine smiled.

“Aye, and so could mine!” Eldarion replied.

Eldarion, who at times could be as reckless and mischievous as his Elvish uncles, Elrohir and Elladan, suddenly grinned devilishly. “Tomorrow when Elboron arrives, I believe that we should take a tour of Minas Tirith. After all we are the oldest, and we must be able to do things that our siblings cannot.”

“What are you thinking of?” Elfwine inquired, his hazel eyes shining devilishly.

“One of father’s youngest guardsmen has shown me a tavern on one of the lower levels, where they are not too particular as to who frequents it and why. It would be fun to go there, to get some ale and to look at people.” Eldarion proffered.

“You mean to look at wenches.” Elfwine quipped.

“Aye, that too – of course.”

The two young men smiled at each other, and Eldarion continued: “I do not suppose that you believe that our fathers were innocents all their lives, do you? After all, mine had travelled all Middle Earth before he became king -– and then he was 87!”

“No” Elfwine admitted, “I have heard certain stories about father and his cousin from some of the men, but they also said that once he fell in love with my mother, he never looked at another woman; he was tamed. Still, at times he can behave rather roguishly, so I suppose that the rumours are true.”

The two young men grinned at each other. “Should we go for a ride?” Eldarion asked.

“Good idea” Elfwine replied, “I feel like taking a look at the surroundings.”

They saddled up, Elfwine had learned to care for his horse himself at an early age as was Rohirric custom, and Eldarion was not unfamiliar with this duty, either.

“Anyway, I am looking forward to seeing Elboron tomorrow, such an adventure will also be something that he will enjoy,” Elfwine said, “after all my dear cousin, although being of Gondorian descent, still has a good portion of Rohirric blood in him.” Laughing, the boys mounted and rode out of the stables.

Éomer and Aragorn had gone out for a breath of fresh air and stood looking out over the vast city below them.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Crown Princes of Gondor and Rohan riding out,” Aragorn observed, “well, they are old enough to look after themselves. I believe that they will be going for a ride through the city to show off.”

“Yes, and probably over the Pelennor imagining that they are conquering the entire armies of Mordor,” Éomer quipped. “They are probably feeling that all that weapons' training would amount to nothing if you do not get to the fight the enemy. Though - when I were that age, I really did get to do it,” he added, this time with a more solemn note to his voice.

Aragorn agreed, “aye, you did. And by the time you were born, I had been doing it for many long years. But I suppose, at that age you do not appreciate that your fathers did secure to the peace; they dream of fighting big battles themselves.”

“If the reports are true, my friend, that is perhaps exactly what they are going to have to before long. What say you, oh, great king, how do you feel about a ride? Or are you getting too stiff?” Éomer grinned at his friend.

“Didn’t you get enough riding, Horse Master, on your long ride from Edoras? But you have yet to see the day, young friend, when I will be too stiff to take a ride with you!” Aragorn retorted. Laughing, they went to stables to saddle up.

---oooOOOooo---

Lothíriel and Arwen had been spending some time with Lothíriel’s family, talking about children and the news about everyone, and then some time alone.

Lothíriel had wanted a private conversation with Arwen, because she knew that Arwen would know of certain Elvish remedies, which would prevent the conception of any more children. And she was right; Arwen did have the knowledge and gave Lothíriel advice about where and how to provide the necessities.

Afterwards, Lothíriel went for a walk in the garden with her father and Imrahil commented that his daughter looked well and happy; she had seemed more tired when they had seen each other last.

Lothíriel smiled “And I was, father, but I am happy, and I cannot imagine what would make me happier. Every day with Éomer and the children and Rohan just adds to that feeling.”

Imrahil smiled at his daughter: “I must admit that even though I loved Éomer dearly as a friend, I would never have imagined that he would be the one to make your life so complete. You are so different in many ways.”

“Yes, father – but so very alike in others; apart from being hot-headed and stubborn,” Lothíriel said.

“And you are still trying to fill the halls of Meduseld with children?” Imrahil’s mirth showed in his eyes.

“Father, that is a very indiscrete question; but no, I think that we have got enough by now. It will be nice having Éomer to myself every once in a while, as the children are growing up.” Lothíriel smiled inwardly as she remembered her conversation with Arwen. Father and daughter smiled at each other and walked on.

---oooOOOooo---

Next morning, everybody was up bright and early, or at least the children were; the adults had talked way into the night and slept late. Éomer awoke and looked at his still sleeping wife.

“it is a blessing that there are enough servants and other children to occupy even Théodred; it is good to have a bit of peace in the morning.” He smiled mischievously and rolled over to kiss his wife awake.

She opened her eyes, still a bit blurry from sleep and looked up at him: “And what are you up to, My Lord. I believe that you are intending something quite, shall we say, untoward this morning?”

Éomer growled “It has been so long since I had a peaceful morning with my wife; I do not think that I had since Théodred was quite little. He has always been the one to occupy our bed in the morning.” He bent down to kiss her again, this time more passionately and Lothíriel giggled happily, as she felt his hands on her.

“But, husband, in a strange bed, and what will people think if they hear?”

“As if you did not know by now that I do not care what other people think,” her husband murmured, and continued his endeavours.

Suddenly he let go of her and sat up. “What is the matter?” Lothíriel inquired.

Éomer looked troubled. “I know that it was only friendly bantering yesterday, but it still got me thinking. We do have enough children to fill our lives and our halls and I think it is time that you got some rest from childbearing, even if it means that I have to keep away from you – although I cannot see that I will be able to entirely.”

Lothíriel could not help smiling, “Éomer, my love and my life, you do not have to.”

“But ..” he continued.

“I have thought along the same lines and I did consult Arwen yesterday. Without disclosing too much, she does have a lot of Elvish knowledge and has given me advice. So it is quite safe, my love.” Lothíriel smiled at the look in his face.

“Thank Béma”, Éomer sighed, “I believe that I would have gone crazy, if I could not share your bed for an unforeseeable future. Now, where were we?” he grinned roguishly and scoped her into his arms again. “Needless to say, we will be quite late for breakfast,” he said huskily.

---oooOOOooo---

Later that day, everybody gathered at the castle stairs to welcome the Prince and Princess of Ithilien and their family. Éomer rushed down the stairs to help his sister dismount. He held her close for a while: “Dear sister of mine, it is so good to see you.”

Éowyn smiled and kissed her brother’s cheek. “You look as well and as mischievous as ever, dear brother.” The two of them had been close ever since their parents died and still the bond between them was unbreakable, even though they lived far apart.

Éomer turned to his brother-in-law and embraced him. “Still keeping up with that sister of mine?” he asked.

“Oh, yes” his gentle brother-in-law replied, “as well as always. It is good to see you, Éomer.”

Lothíriel was hugging her sister-in-law and the younger children, and she and Éomer turned to the oldest nephew simultaneously. “Look at him”, Éomer growled, “he could be Rohirrim.”

He hugged his nephew, who smiled; he loved his uncle and aunt and liked being with them, the court of Edoras being a little more relaxed than those of Gondor and Ithilien. The young heir of Ithilien was tall and slim like his father but with his mother’s blonde hair and grey-blue eyes. In fact, he looked very much like a young Théodred.

Aragorn greeted his steward and his wife. Ever since he met Éowyn at Edoras, he had had a soft spot for her; he liked her steeliness and straightforwardness very much.

“Elboron!” they heard two voices say simultaneously. The two young heirs of Gondor and Rohan came running down the stairs to greet their friend and cousin, slapping his back and embracing him.

“Oh, it is starting already,” Éomer quipped as he saw the faces of the boys. “They are definitely up to something,” he thought. Closely following the two eldest were Haldred, Isindir and Amrihil, who lit up when they saw Finduilas.

“And here comes the rest of the gang,” this time it was Aragorn’s turn.

He turned to his son: “You know what to do, my son – get the boys settled in, and Celebrian, you take care of the girls.”

“Yes, father.” Celebrian smiled at her father.

The children disappeared, chatting and laughing. Elfwine put an arm around his cousin’s shoulders as they went up the stairs and whispered: “Eldarion and I have something to talk to you about.”

Faramir walked with his brother-in-law into the castle: “I can tell that they all have something going, already at this early stage.”

“Oh, yes they have and I trust that we will find out soon enough.” Éomer said.

Aragorn grinned. “Aye, and you two rogues should know; I do remember once, just before you two were married ….”

“Leave that for a moment without little ears,” Éowyn warned looking at her sister-in-law, “but I am sure that both Lothíriel and I would love to hear it.”

Faramir and Éomer looked at each other.

“I am sure that you would,” Éomer said “and I think that I would prefer telling the story myself, which ever it is, than to have Aragorn tell it. Especially if it is the same incident that we are thinking of.”

After dinner, Elboron, Eldarion and Elfwine found a quiet corner in the garden, where they were certain that no one could overhear them, especially their younger siblings and cousins, and most especially their parents.

“What is that you want to talk to me about?” Elboron inquired. Eldarion quickly told him about the tavern and what they were planning, and a roguish smile, not unlike his uncle’s, spread over Elboron’s face.

“I knew you would like the idea”, Elfwine grinned.

“When are we going?” Elboron inquired.

“I think it would be better if we waited until late this evening, when everybody is asleep. Then we can sneak out; we should be able to.” Eldarion grinned.

“Do you think that our parents will go to bed earlier tonight than last night?” Elfwine asked.

“No, but with aunt Éowyn and Faramir here, I am sure that Gimli and your father will start one of their usual discussions, where Éowyn and father join in, and that will surely keep them occupied for a while.” Eldarion grinned.

“We will be safe, but now I think we should go back to the hall and entertain the girls or play games, or whatever good boys should.” The three friends laughed loudly and went inside.

Although they thought otherwise, Aragorn watched them coming in and remarked to Éomer and Faramir.

“Yes, they are definitely up to something. I can tell, living for so long with Elrohir and Elladan taught me something about mischief. And Eldarion, I am sorry to say, have inherited a lot from them. I think we should watch them closely.”

Legolas, who had been listening in and also had been watching the boys, nodded. “I agree, and I also know something about Arwen’s brothers. I shall do the watching, Aragorn. I still have the better eyes and ears.”

Éomer grinned, “aye, you do, my fine Elvish prince; they are still better than your drinking abilities, I grant.”

Ever since the celebrations after the victory at Helm’s Deep, this had been a subject of taunting between the two. A drinking contest had finally proven that there was something that the Prince of Mirkwood was not a master at, although he had beaten several of Éomer’s men – and one particular dwarf. Legolas just smiled, raising his goblet to his friend, who returned the gesture.

---oooOOOooo---

They did not, however, stay up as long as the night before. The harvest festival commencing the next day, everybody wished to be as refreshed as possible. The youngest children had long been in bed, and the oldest children also bid their parents goodnight and left to go to their rooms. The three heirs shared Eldarion’s large room on the top floor and went there to await that the castle became quiet and settled for the night. Legolas watched them leave and smiled to himself. Luckily he did not need as much rest as humans and could stay awake.

Finally everything seemed quiet; the three boys had changed their fine tunics and breeches into something a little more obscure and wore cloaks with hoods. Eldarion looked out and signalled that the coast was clear and the three friends snuck out and down the stairs. They started running and did not stop until they reached the gate leading into the streets. The guards recognized the princes, but just cast a look upon them, as they had no authority to stop the king’s son. Legolas followed them at a good distance, all the way to the tavern at the first level of Minas Tirith.

He smiled to himself “Obviously their fathers were right in worrying; now what are they up to? Well, Aragorn should know; he was a right handful at that age,” Legolas mused, “and together with the twins, he was downright scary.” The elf followed the boys into the tavern, where they had found a table. Legolas drew his Elvish cloak about him and donned the hood, blending into a dark corner.

The three young men looked around them, sucking in the atmosphere. A young bar maid came up to their table to take their orders. They all ordered ale, a drink which they all recently had been allowed to be introduced to, and when they got their order, Eldarion raised his tankard. “Welcome to the other side of Minas Tirith, my friends.” The other two smiled and drank with him.

They sat for a while, drinking and laughing – and feeling a bit conscious about being there. Several of the young bar maids had discovered the young, handsome men and were eyeing them boldly and deliberately. Legolas noticed this and smiled to himself.

The boys hesitantly reciprocated the attention. Several of the girls were very attractive, and although they seemed no older than them, the look in their eyes told of larger experience than any of the young men.

Elfwine and his cousin had been discussing whether they should invite a couple of the girls over to the table, and Eldarion was already eyeing one of the girls when Elfwine’s attention was drawn to the table next to them in a corner.

He had accompanied his father all over Rohan for a couple of years now, roaming close to the borders and had seen a lot of different people on these patrols. He knew a Southron when he saw one. This one looked every bit evil and the company he kept did not look any better; they seemed to be involved in a discussion of some sort and it looked a bit too suspicious in Elfwine’s opinion, being a keen observer like his father.

He drew the others’ attention to the party. “Did you not say, Eldarion that Faramir had reported activities to the South, by Southrons or orcs?”

Elboron replied “Yes, I know that father spoke to the king about this recently, and I have already heard him and mother talking when they thought that I did not hear.” The Crown Prince’s brow furrowed, making him look very much like his father.

“Could we move closer and overhear?”

Their rash idea of living an adult life in taverns was all of a sudden being forgotten over the instinct that was planted in them from birth. Legolas had also seen the party and had overheard the boys’ conversation and was wary, as he saw the boys move closer to the party in the corner. He sighed heavily. “I wish they were not quite so much like their fathers; I’d better move in as well.”

Before the boys could move closer, the party got up and went outside. The boys followed them. “At least they are trained well enough to know what to do and they are also armed.” All the boys wore their swords under their cloaks. Legolas followed them. The three boys crept up so they could overhear the conversation.

One of the Southrons growled, “The harvest festival will be a good time for the attack. All the royal families are gathered here and we could get lucky and have them all erased from the face of the earth, including the heirs.”

One of the others said: “But the kings are also some of the finest soldiers around and the Horse Lord has brought some of his finest as has the Swan Prince.” “Does not matter, we will get them and also avenge our losses during the years. Let’s start with the kings and the princes, then we can see about the families. There are some good women and fine, little lasses among them.”

At this, the three young men clenched their fists and especially Elfwine had difficulty keeping calm. “We have to tell our fathers, and now!” he snarled, clutching the hilt of his sword. Legolas, who had also heard it, stiffened.

Just then the Southron men seemed to become aware of something: “I heard a noise,” one of them said, “let us get out of here; get the horses.” Elfwine looked at his friends. “Go find our fathers, I will follow them.”

Before the two others could say anything, he ran towards the royal stables to saddle Greymane.

Legolas cursed in Elvish and stepped out from the shadows. Eldarion and Elboron froze as they saw him.

“Run to your fathers and wake them!” he said. “Tell Éomer from me that I will follow Elfwine. Do not just stand there, go!” he commanded and ran to find his horse.

He met with Elfwine just outside the stables. “You are not going anywhere without me, my lad” he said. Elfwine looked at him “How –- what are you doing here.” Legolas found his horse and leapt on its back, needing no saddle and reins. Luckily he had carried his weapons, the bow and quiver and the white knives when he went out. “Go, I will tell you on the way.”

The young Rohirrim and the elf galloped down the levels of Minas Tirith and out the big gate. In the moonlight, Legolas’ elf eyes clearly saw the riders ahead of them. “We will be able to gain in on them, after all Rohirrim horses are the descendants of the Mearas and can travel at great speed.” He quickly told Elfwine what had happened, that their fathers had suspected mischief and that he had volunteered to follow them.

Elfwine laughed. “Well, they are so full of mischief themselves that they suspect everything that we do, and they have a great ally in you, Legolas. I am glad that you are with me, although I know how to handle myself.”

“Do you know how much you are like your father, lad?” Legolas smiled as he urged his horse on. “Same courage and same confidence in his own abilities. Let us go, we are gaining on them”.

---oooOOOooo---

In the meantime, Eldarion and Elboron had reached the castle. Eldarion ran to his parents’ room and knocked on the door whereas Elboron ran to wake his uncle and his parents.

“Father, wake up.” Eldarion called softly. Aragorn, who had not lost his ranger habits of sleeping lightly over the years, immediately sat up in bed beside his wife. “What is it, my son; and what are you doing here at this hour.”

Eldarion quickly told his father the story and gave him the message from Legolas. Aragorn jumped out of bed and got dressed. He fastened his sword at his side and said to Arwen.

“Get hold of Lothíriel and Éowyn; you and Imrahil will have to guard the children; we do not know whether they are others in the city. Eldarion, sound the alarm and tell the Captain of the Guard that he shall find at least fifty men to follow me. You will ride with us.”

Eldarion nodded and ran out of the room; Arwen looked at her husband, who was now once more the determined warlord. “You will be taking our son?”

Aragorn nodded “I believe that he is better protected with me and Éomer than if he stays here, the Valar knows what he could get up to.”

“You are probably right, Love.” Arwen kissed her husband and ran to find Éowyn.

Both Éowyn and Lothíriel were up and had already dressed and found their weapons. Éomer and Faramir had already left to summon their men and so had Elphir. Imrahil and his two other sons and part of the Swan Legion would also be staying behind.

Not many Gondorian soldiers were left in the city; many had gotten leave due to the harvest celebrations and had gone home to their families and the rest was scattered all over Gondor and Ithilien, and as Aragorn took part of them with him on this mission, it did not leave many defenders to hold the large city.

Aragorn felt, however, that with those he had and with those of the Swan Legion, who would stay behind, including the Prince and his sons, the palace would be well defended. And the Southrons would not attack the ordinary citizens of Minas Tirith if they only wanted to get to the Royal families.

Gimli had also, grudgingly, consented to stay behind.

“Seeing as the fine Elf princeling has abandoned me as always when something exciting is going down, I shall stay and defend your families,” he promised Aragorn.

Elboron looked at his father: “I want to go with you; I can fight as well.” Faramir gave his consent, looking at the boy’s mother.

Éowyn nodded: “He should, Faramir.” Faramir kissed her, squeezed her hand and left.

“Watch over the others, my love.” Éomer told Lothíriel. “Our son is already out there and I shall bring him back to you.” He kissed his wife softly, caressing her cheek and went to join the Rohirrim, Éothain already waiting with his horse at the bottom of the stairs.

Éomer made sure that someone had brought his son’s armour. “He will need it,” he thought. He mounted his horse, nodded to his sister and sharing a last look with his wife, he called: “We ride!”

Aragorn lifted his hand to signal departure to his guard and along with his steward and his son followed the King of Rohan and the Swan Knights.

“Where to” cried Éomer to Aragorn as they rode towards the big gate. “Osgilliath” the king called back, “I trust that if we ride hard, we will be able to catch up with Elfwine and Legolas; otherwise I believe that I shall still be able to track a party of men on horses.”

Éomer and Faramir grinned,

“By Béma, the ranger is back!” Éomer grinned in spite of the seriousness of the chase and they spurred on their horses. Elboron and Eldarion in their armour, which still felt a bit unaccustomed, exchanged a look as if saying to each other “This is the real thing” and followed their fathers.

---oooOOOooo---

Legolas and Elfwine had gained on the riders, but still kept at a distance, which was no trouble at all to the elf. “Furthermore, we have to keep in between those we are pursuing and those who are pursuing us so that they can find us. Although Aragorn will still be able to track us, I believe.”

The young Crown Prince of Rohan smiled. “I believe that he will” he said, “and otherwise my father will find us; the scolding that he has in store for me will be his biggest incitement to do so.”

Legolas turned and looked back, as if he had heard something. “Horses” he said, “and not a few; they are behind us, the kings of Gondor and Rohan.”

Legolas and Elfwine had slowed down their pace to a trot, partly to give their horses some rest and partly to allow the pursuers to catch up. They were sure that they would be able to catch up with the Southrons. Legolas had seen them turn east just before they reached Osgilliath; it seemed as if they did not suspect that somebody was following them.

“Overconfidence,” Legolas mused, “a good thing for us; a very foolish thing for them.” He did not think that they were going that far, suspecting that they may be hiding somewhere near the place, where the Black Gate once stood.

He looked at Éomer’s young son; the young man seemed calm, just like his father would have been, but Legolas could not really tell whether it was just a façade. “Are you nervous?” he asked him.

“No, not of the Southrons, but possibly of the meeting with my father” Elfwine grinned, “I will probably be given a scolding like never before – both for being at that tavern and then for rushing out in pursuit of them.”

Legolas smiled. “Oh, yes – I do know something about your father and his temper, but he will also be proud over the way, you three reacted. As I am sure both your uncle and Aragorn will.”

They heard horses approaching. Legolas grinned, “The hour is closer than you think, my lad.” Elfwine half-smiled and braced himself. In the dim light, he could see his father riding at the head of the column, the horsetail of his helmet gleaming white in the moonlight.

The riders came to a halt before Legolas and Elfwine. “What in the Blue Hell did you think of, lad, are you absolutely out of your mind, rushing off like that. Thank the Valar that Legolas was around!” Éomer’s voice boomed across to his son, who also heard the slight tremble in it.

Éomer’s dark eyes shot arrows at his son. “We have brought your armour; put it on,” he said curtly. “But do not think that we are through now; we will discuss this further when we get back as well as the small matter of what you were doing in that tavern at the first place.”

Éomer could not help smiling to himself at his son, who sat upright in the saddle, meeting his father’s blaze with steady, but flashing eyes. “And your mother might have something to say to you, as well.” he thought.

Elfwine inclined his head in acknowledgement of his father’s word and rode down the column to find his armour and helmet. A young Rider handed it to him along with a spear.

Éothain came up to him. “He is proud of you, you know. Let us know see if all that weapons' training have paid off, my lad.” He put his hand on Elfwine’s shoulder. “You will find your friends at the rear of the column.” Elfwine looked up and saw Eldarion and Elboron, both in the armour of Gondor. He nodded at them.

Aragorn had had a word with Legolas, while Éomer had dealt with his son and now turned to the others. “Legolas says that they turned east before they reached Osgilliath, and that they did not seem to know that they are being followed, which is a good thing for us. –- And I quite agree with you that they might hide somewhere near the place where the Black Gate once stood.”

“The Black Gate, uh? We have been there before.” Éomer said and Elphir nodded in consent, his face sombre. “Not a time I care to remember very much about,” he said.

Aragorn and his steward had conferred with their captains and now turned to Éomer and Elphir. “We are sending scouts ahead. If you agree, some of your men will be included in this scouting party. No, not you three,” he said, as he recognized his son and his two friends, who had approached and now had a look of somebody, who wanted to volunteer.

“I agree,” said Éomer, “it should be somebody, who is more experienced.” He looked around. “Déor, Halfwine,” he called and two of his men broke out from the column and rode up to their king. Elphir also gave orders to two of his men, and along with the rangers from Ithilien and Gondor, the scouts set out ahead of the column.

“If you are not back in a couple of hours, we will come for you,” Aragorn said.

“What now?” asked Eldarion.

“Now, my son, we dismount and wait.” Aragorn replied.


Chapter 3 - Part Three

Part Three

An hour crept by. The three young men stood looking out at the horizon and mumbled quietly between them. Anticipation crept up on them.

Éomer approached his son. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

“No, not really, father. I am wary of what is going to happen, but you have trained me to be a soldier as well as a king, and if you trust that I can do it, then I can and I shall.”

Éomer put his hand on his son’s shoulder “I do trust you; just as Faramir and Aragorn trust their sons. You are my son and I know what is in you; you will do just fine. And besides your mother will kill me, if anything happens to you so I will be looking after you.” The king grinned.

Legolas had been looking towards the mountains. “Riders are approaching,” he turned and said to Aragorn.

“As usual they are so far off that others cannot see them, but I trust you to tell me the truth. Hopefully they are our scouts returning.” Aragorn said.

Legolas affirmed: “They are.”

Three riders approached rapidly; Déor, the young Rohirrim Rider was one of them; he halted his horse and dismounted. Walking up to the kings, he reported: “They are camped just around the hills before the place where the Black Gates stood. You were right,” he said to the elf.

“How many?” Aragorn inquired.

“Seven or eight hundred at least, I should say.” The young Rider answered.

“An easy task, then, usually we are up against several thousand,” Éomer grunted.

“Yes, Sire, but they seem well-armed and trained,.” Déor proffered.

“Nevertheless” said Aragorn “we should be able to take them on. Mount!” he ordered. Éomer donned his helmet with a grim look on his face.

They rode in absolute silence towards the Southrons’ camp. Just before they reached the small ridge, Aragorn halted the column and turned his horse towards Éomer and the others.

“I think that the best way to do this is to place archers on top of this ridge. He nodded to his steward: “Faramir, you and your rangers will do this!” Faramir just nodded and beckoned at his men. They dismounted and started up the ridge.

Aragorn then turned to Elphir: “Elphir, you and I and our men will sneak up on them from behind, whereas …”

He did not get any further, as Éomer said, “yes, and the Rohirrim will do what we always do, charge right in head on and confront the enemy. I know, that is what we do best! Why should we make any changes?” Then he furrowed his brow, “And the boys?”

“They will take position here with the rearguard and watch anybody who might try to escape,” Aragorn ordered, his face set – and the boys knew that arguing would be in vain.

“You will see enough action, as it is,” Legolas said. “I think that I will join the archers,” he added, and followed Faramir’s rangers up the ridge.

By now, dawn was breaking. The men positioned themselves and Aragorn gave the sign to attack. Éomer signalled that the horns be blown, calling out: “Forth, Éorlingas!” and lead the charge. Faramir gave the signal and arrows flew and hit their targets. Very soon the Southrons’ camp was a battlefield, a total mayhem.

The three young princes watched all this with horror and awe. “I know now why our fathers did not want us in this,” Elfwine gasped, “but what warriors they are,” he said, as he saw his father hurl his spear, hitting an enemy right in the chest and then drawing his sword as in one movement.

Aragorn swung Andúril, slaying many enemies before him. Eldarion and Elboron caught their breath as he was attacked from behind, but an arrow from Legolas’ bow hindered the attacker.

Eldarion, who had been looking the other way, suddenly called out: “Look, a party of them, perhaps more than a hundred, has escaped on horseback. And it looks as if they are heading for Minas Tirith! They have a good advance on us,” He looked pale. “Mother and the girls!”

“Yes, but there are at least a hundred soldiers or more left in the city,” Elboron said.

“But, you know as well as I that if they are taken by surprise, even that number will not be enough. We must warn them.” Eldarion stated.

“But how will they get in through the gates?” Elboron asked.

Eldarion pondered this for a short while. “They won’t be entering the city via the gate. They will leave the horses, enter over the wall and sneak up through the city. They are cunning; they must be if they could escape through the ring we left around their camp.”

Elfwine looked determined “Then we will have to go the city. We shall gather some of the rear guard and go. There will be hell to pay, when our fathers find out, but I for one will pay that price!” The young heir of Rohan donned his helmet and looked at his friends “Our fathers are fighting together and so can we.”

He called out to the commander of the rear guard of the Rohirrim. “Haleth, you and your men come with us. The rest of the Gondorians and the Swan Legion stay here.”

Eldarion called out to the commander of the guard: “Tell our fathers that we are pursuing an escaped Southron party to Minas Tirith.”

Elfwine called out: “We ride, Rohirrim. Come on!”

Haleth grinned at one of his men as they set off. “It is like seeing Éomer when he was just a young marshal. I am not afraid to follow him!” “Neither am I” said the older man.

The Southrons had, indeed, a good advance on them; their horses being less tired. But the three young men and the Rohirrim pressed on their horses. The sun was setting again. The last rays fell on the city.

Eldarion looked at his city and thought: “I hope we get there in time; Éowyn and Lothíriel can put up a good fight and Gimli is with them, as is Amrothos and Echirion, but still there are so many young ones! They will only go for our families; the rest of the city will be safe from them.” He took a firmer grip of his reins, trying not to think of what the Southrons might do to their families.

As he was spurring on his horse, Elfwine suddenly saw an image of Celebrian before him. Unwittingly, he clenched his teeth cursing under his breath. If he could prevent it, no damage would come to her or the others.

When they reached the gates, dusk was upon them. The Southrons was nowhere in sight. “They will be waiting for the cover of darkness and must be hiding somewhere.” Eldarion said. “Let us hurry!”

The guards at the gate recognised their young prince and order the gate opened. “Have you observed anything?” Eldarion inquired, “and you have let no one in?”

“Only a few travelling merchants, who wished shelter for the night”, the guard answered. Elfwine and Eldarion looked at each other.

Elfwine cursed in Rohirric: “Bloody hell, they could be somebody they have sent ahead to open for the others,” he exclaimed. “Hurry, to the citadel” he roared and charged ahead up the winding streets.

---oooOOOooo---


Meanwhile, at the citadel Éowyn, Imrahil and Lothíriel’s brothers watched the silent surroundings from a window on the first floor. They had been waiting all day and had tried to keep as calm and composed so as not to scare the younger children. Lothíriel had told Haldred and his older cousins what was happening, but had sworn them to silence. Haldred had, however, as the only one of the younger children with weapons training joined his aunt and uncles and Gimli taking watches.

Lothíriel and Arwen had put the youngest children to bed and had left the other children with the servants and now joined Imrahil and the others.

“It is too quiet out there," the Queen of Rohan remarked, “and … “ She did not get any further as she saw through the window a host of Rohirrim riding up to the citadel, a man with a flying horsetail in his helmet ahead of them.

“Éomer, but ….” She exclaimed.

And then she recognised her son – and the sons of Arwen and Éowyn. On Elfwine’s orders the Rohirrim dismounted and spread out over the area, taking cover where they could. He and his friends ran into the castle, hurrying up the stairs, removing their helmets as they ran. They burst into the chamber, where their mothers were.

“Elfwine – what is happening,” Imrahil cried out to his grandson.

“A large party of Southrons escaped our attack on their camp and headed for Minas Tirith. It is more than likely that they will be attacking the citadel any moment!” the young man answered.

“We took some of the rearguard and followed them,” proffered Eldarion “and told the others to inform our fathers that we had left in pursuit of them.”

Imrahil nodded, “Well done! We must now organise the defence. If it is as you say that they will be attacking us, we must be prepared.”

Amrothos left the room. “I will spread out the soldiers of the Swan Legion,” he said and Erchirion followed him together with Gimli.

“They won’t get past this dwarf,” he rumbled, clutching his axe.

Lothíriel embraced her son. “And what about your fathers?” she inquired.

“Father was charging ahead of the Rohirrim as always; Aragorn was swinging Andúril and uncle Faramir had his archers high on the ridge above them. They were doing fairly well when we left them and must be here soon enough!” Elfwine grinned as roguishly as his father would have.

Lothíriel shook her head and sighed audibly: “It is a good thing that I am a woman hardened by eighteen years of living with you and your father; otherwise you would have been the death of me.”

Éowyn came up to her sister-in-law, putting her arm around her shoulder. “I was thinking exactly the same thing, Lothy. And I suppose that Arwen has benefited from an upbringing with two brothers like Elrohir and Elladan – and a long marriage to Aragorn, having a son, who is so much like them”.

Imrahil looked at his daughter and her friends, “If I did not know it before, I certainly know it now. It takes a great deal to shake the foundation of these families.”

He smiled at his grandson, “and what would you three young warlords suggest that we do now?”

The three heirs looked at each other. Elfwine cleared his throat “Well, the Rohirrim already guard the courtyard. I expect that they will attack soon. It is dark now. Grandfather, could you and some of the Swan Legion guard the children along with Amrothos and Gimli. Eldarion, you and Elboron and I will join the rest in the courtyard along with Echirion.”

Eldarion grinned at his friend. “Whoa, you, it is I who is supposed to be the son of a great leader, but it seems as if you are getting ahead of me.”

Elfwine looked at him and said mockingly. “You seem to forget, my Liege, that also I am the son of a great leader of men!” The three friends stood silently for a minute, just looking at each other. Then they drew their swords and left the room.

Elboron looked at his mother. “I trust, mother, that we won’t have to tell you what to do.” Éowyn clutched her sword hilt . “You are quite right, my son.” He turned and ran after his friends.

When they got out, Elfwine went to Haleth. “Have you heard any activity?”

“Yes” the Marshal replied. “We have heard some whispers and activity near the wall and I suppose that they are coming this way. Let them come, we are ready for them.” The men drew their swords and waited.

Suddenly a large number of men appeared over the edge of the upper wall. Elfwine gave the signal and the men rushed to meet them. As he reached the first opponent and parried his blow, Elfwine mused that this was the real thing; no more training - and then he did not get time for more, as the next enemy threw himself forward. Elfwine also parried his blow and ran his sword through him.

“Don’t let them get in!” he roared. Eldarion and Elboron fought side by side at the stairs, slaying the Southrons as they came. Eldarion proved as able as his father when it came to sword fighting.

Elfwine had just turned to look for the others, when he suddenly heard a cry and a loud 'thrump' behind him; he turned around and saw his uncle Echirion pulling his sword from a slain enemy. He nodded at his uncle, who grinned at him. “Just watching your back, nephew.”

They could not, however, prevent some of the Southrons from entering. But Éowyn and Imrahil soon fought off those who came in and Gimli and Amrothos handled the rest. They did not reach the children’s quarters. Also Haldred proved to be a worthy warrior of Rohan, as he shot arrow after arrow from the windows of the castle.

The opposition in the courtyard was fought down; Elfwine lowered his sword and looked at the remaining enemies, who surrendered one by one.

Eldarion suddenly froze. “I can hear some commotion on one of the lower levels; horses - they must have let someone in through the gates.” He ran to his horse.

“Elf ears,” said Elfwine and motioned to some of the Rohirrim. “Mount and follow us.” He threw himself on his horse and followed Eldarion. They rode down through the street towards the noise at the lower level.

Some Gondorian soldiers was fighting a party of Southrons on horseback, who had come in through the gate that had probably been opened by someone inside.

Some of the guards from the gate were later found with their throats cut. Elfwine, Eldarion and the Rohirrim threw themselves into the battle, fighting furiously even though they were slightly outnumbered. Elfwine had received a cut to his arm by a Southron blade, but did not seem to notice as he fought on.

Suddenly the gate opened again, this time pushed open and in rode the host with the kings in the forefront.

It did not take the united forces of Gondor and Rohan long to fight down the last resistance. Éomer halted his horse alongside his son. He looked at the blood seeping from the wound on his son’s arm.

“Will this be a new habit of the Heir of Rohan,” he asked, “to ride off and then have his old father chasing after him to save his skin,” he said with a grin. “Are you hurt?”

Elfwine looked at his father, seeing the worry in the eyes despite the mirth in his voice. “Perhaps, it is actually a lot of fun. And yes, but it is only a scratch, which aunt Éowyn can fix in no time.”

Aragorn ordered his men to secure the gate and to lock in the remainder of the Southrons.

“What about the citadel and our families?” he asked his son.

“Secure; all resistance was fought off, the Rohirrim and the Swan Legion guard the castle along with the Guard of the White Tower – and aunt Éowyn and Gimli are probably fighting over who slay the most.” Eldarion quipped.

Legolas looked at them. “By the Valar, has she taken my place! I must get to them, before she does something rash to Gimli. Poor dwarf!” He quickly rode off.

Éomer grinned, “He is probably right.”

Elfwine looked at his father “I assume that you went victorious out of the battle.”

“You assume rightly, my son. Faramir, Elphir and their men are hauling the prisoners to the city as we speak.”

“Any casualties?” Éomer inquired.

“No, father. Only minor injuries.”

“Good,” Éomer thought, “he does not have to learn how to handle deaths among his men at this early age.”

Aragorn intervened, “Let us to the castle.” They all rode up the city’s street, where the citizens had gathered, summoned by the commotion. The Captains of Gondor reassured everybody, telling them to rest easy. Whatever danger there had been, it was over by now.

The men rode up to the citadel, dismounting at the bottom of the stairs. Éomer ran up the stairs, taking three steps at a time and hurried in, Aragorn following right behind. Inside, Lothíriel met them and flung her arms around her husband’s neck. “It is good to see you back, all of you.” she murmured against his shoulder.

“You are all safe?” Aragorn asked.

“Yes, apart from a few scratches, everybody is all right.” Arwen replied, smiling at the sight of Lothíriel and Éomer. Haldred and the older girls approached just as Elfwine came in the door.

“See, they are at it again,” Théodwyn snorted, as she saw her father kiss her mother’s brow, and then lit up in a smile as she saw Eldarion enter. The children laughed, but Celebrian gasped when she saw the blood seeping down Elfwine’s sleeve.

“It is nothing, little sister, he’ll live,” Eldarion quipped. He turned to his mother “I am so hungry; we have not eaten since yesterday, do you think that the servants will able to manage some food for us, Nana?” Arwen smiled at her son “I think that we may be able to.”

---oooOOOooo---

After supper, Aragorn looked at his son and his friends. “I would like to see the three of you in the King’s Hall in an hour. I trust that you had not thought that I had forgotten about your escapades?” The three young men looked at each other, quite certain that they would receive the worst scolding that they had ever had in their life.

Elfwine looked at the others. “If we can live through a battle, we can live through this. What is the worst thing that they can do to us?”

“Have mother cook our meals?” Elboron pondered. The three boys looked at each other and burst out laughing. They left the dining hall to go to their room to await their summon.

Faramir, who had arrived with the prisoners just before they sat down to eat, and Éomer, who overheard them, could not help laughing and Aragorn hid a smile behind his hand. He looked at his friends:

“Join me in this, let’s give them a scare.”

“A scare,” the King of Rohan retorted, “after this nothing will scare them.”

“I am afraid that you are right,” said the Steward of Gondor “and I cannot think of anything that might – apart from my wife’s cooking, and that seems to be out of the question.”

The two others laughed at this. Éomer shook his head, “No, not even that will scare them anymore. No, we will have to think of some else.”

He stood for a while, contemplating the matter. “And neither will mucking stables; trust me I have tried that. No, my friends, I think that we should just accept that they are almost grown up. Weren’t we at that age? What I suggest is that we take them out for a night on the town, the three of us. And then we can really test their stamina.”

Faramir and Aragorn looked at Éomer. “Exactly right, that is what we will do.” Faramir grinned.

Aragorn smiled, “a good idea. Then we will face the wrath of our queens and the shield maiden when we come to it.”

Hearing this proposal, Imrahil laughed out loud. “That is a very good idea; I did that once with the three pups sitting there, and I tell you it helped.”

“At least for a little while.” Amrothos, who was always the worst of Imrahil’s sons, quipped. “I’m glad that my youngsters are not that age yet.”

Éomer grinned, “Théodred took care of that part of my education – but I don’t think that I will live long if I proceed as he did.”

“Meaning what?” Faramir inquired, suspecting what it might be.

“Introducing me to the ladies of the houses of ill repute, my innocent brother-in-law; that I think I will leave for somebody else to tend to. I think Déor may be quite a good candidate for that! I have too much respect for Lothíriel to try anything of the sort.” The three fathers laughed heartily and went to the King’s Hall.

Aragorn seated himself on his throne. “It will be more intimidating that way,” he grinned and Faramir placed himself in his steward’s seat. Éomer stood beside him with his arms folded.

“And you try to stay serious” Faramir warned his brother-in-law; “I know you.”

The three young men entered the hall and saw their fathers waiting. They strode from the door to the throne and came to a stop before it, bowing slightly.

Aragorn looked down at them: “First of all, I would like to thank you for your bravery. It is more than likely that you saved the lives of your families and for that I will be forever thankful. Moreover you fought like seasoned soldiers, which is of course the result of the training we have put you through since you were young, but nevertheless you did it, and we could not be more proud of you all. “

Then he furrowed his brow and his voice boomed “But – my young knaves, what were you doing in that tavern in the first place? In the middle of the night? Without our permission? Is that a way to behave for the crown princes of three countries? Eldarion?

Eldarion looked up at his father, with defiance in his grey-blue eyes.

“I had heard that it was a good place to frequent, as they would not question our age, nor our heritage there. And we, that is I, just wanted to see what it was all about – and perhaps have some ale.”

Elfwine looked at his father and then up at Aragorn. “Forgive us, Sire, but we only thought about having some fun, after all we are not children anymore. And it was not Eldarion’s fault alone. Elboron and I also were also in on it.”

Elboron nodded his agreement. Éomer looked at the two young men, so very alike and very much like him, and smiled inwardly. “Oh, yes we can expect much trouble from these three yet,” he thought to himself.

“Having fun and having some ale, I see,” Aragorn said, “well, then my young sirs, then I think that you shall be having a night on the town with your “old” fathers and their friends tomorrow night. You are right, you are not children anymore; you should be allowed to be with the adults now. But now I think that you should go to bed; you have had a very long day, indeed, and so have we. See you in the morning.”

The three young men bowed and left the hall. It was a good thing that the walls and doors were thick, preventing the young men to hear the howl of laughter, which came from their fathers when they had left the hall.

“Oh, this was really something!” Faramir caught his breath first, “seeing the look on their faces when they entered – and then when they found out what their so-called punishment would be.”

“Aye, let us go find Legolas and Gimli and tell them; Gimli will love being in on this,” Éomer grinned.

“Should we tell their mothers?" Faramir inquired.

Aragorn nodded. “Yes, I think we should. Arwen may not approve entirely, but I am sure that Éowyn will.”

Faramir nodded his consent and Éomer grinned. “I do not think that we would survive any of us, if we just went ahead without telling them anything; as I said before – I value my life.”

---oooOOOooo---

When they got back to the dining hall, the women and Imrahil had retired to their rooms and only Lothíriel’s brothers, Gimli, and Legolas sat enjoying a goblet of wine and talking quietly. The two kings and the steward joined them, and as Aragorn poured himself a goblet of wine, he told them what they had decided.

Gimli chuckled “I would be delighted to give you a hand.” “And so would I” said Amrothos with a grin. The men, the elf and the dwarf emptied their goblets and agreed on going to bed; tomorrow evening they would have plenty of time for drinking.

Éomer entered the rooms, which he and his wife occupied in the palace to find Lothíriel waiting for him. He smiled at the sight. “Everybody in bed and sleeping soundly?” he asked.

“Each and every one.” Lothíriel smiled “Well, I do not know about our eldest son; they probably have a lot to talk about.”

Éomer grinned impishly, “oh, yes they do; especially since their fathers are taking them out for a night on the town tomorrow night, teaching them a bit about holding their ale.”

“You are what?” Lothíriel chuckled.

“Your father thought it was a grand idea; and Legolas and Gimli – and Amrothos will be helping us. We are going to get them so drunk that they will not even be thinking of a tankard of beer for the next many months.”

Lothíriel grinned “Excellent idea; I remember father did that once to my brothers. It won’t do them any harm – well, not a lot, and you will be with them.”

Éomer went over to their bed and bent down to kiss his wife. “Are you not tired, my Lord, after all you have been battling for the sake of us all today?” she asked, seeing the devil in his eyes.

“Not so tired that I cannot kiss my wife, but I need to wash up,” he grinned and went into the next room. She heard the water splashing and leaned back against the headboard, and waited for him to get back, smiling tenderly as he jumped into bed with her and pulled her into his arms.

“I do promise you, my love, that I will not do as Théodred did to me when I was Elfwine’s age. I will not introduce him to the pleasures of the bawdyhouses. I think that I will leave that up to somebody else,” he grinned mischievously.

“Oh, I see, so that is where you learned your ministrations; I knew that it had to come from somewhere,” his wife quipped.

“I have never made that a secret, have I?” Éomer looked at his wife.

“No, indeed – and, after all, it was way before my time and I have since had the benefit from it.” She kissed him. “However, I am not sure that I would like knowing that you were teaching our son such things.”

“I would not dare.” Éomer mumbled and pulled her closer as they settled down to sleep.

---oooOOOooo---


Elsewhere in the castle, the three young men could not help being a little nervously expectant at the thought of their night on the town.

“You do know what we are up against, don’t you? And what the purpose of this is?” Elfwine inquired of his friends.

They both nodded.

Elfwine continued “I can tell from a mile that this is my father’s idea; it has got his signature all over it. And no matter what we do, we cannot escape our destiny. We will get so drunk that we cannot stand on our own two feet. I’m sorry, lads, but this is how it will end.”

“Are you sure?” Eldarion asked.

“Oh, yes I am quite sure; they will not be taking no for an answer.”

Elboron looked at his friends .“It sounds like we may expect giant hangovers the day after tomorrow?”

“Aye, my dear cousin, that we will,” Elfwine said “but we did want to be treated like grown-ups, so we will just have to endure.”

And it went exactly as they expected. Every time the youngsters had finished one tankard, another was brought to them; Gimli was leading the charge. Their fathers and uncles knew what to expect and, being more used to it, they could hold their drink. The young men could not, as foretold. So late in the evening, two kings and a steward could be seen either carrying or supporting three young men to the castle and conducting them to their beds.

“I think that did the trick,” Aragorn joked.

“For now maybe,” Faramir said, “until the next time. I could do with another one, what about you?”

Éomer grinned, “I will not say no, dear brother.” Amrothos concurred “And neither will I, especially if you are buying, dear cousin.” And the four of them went back into the city to enjoy the harvest festivities.

Next morning, much too early, the three young men were awoken by a loud, commanding voice: “Get up, you sorry lot! If you think yourselves old enough to drink, you are old enough to get up and get breakfast, hangover or no hangover.”

Éomer was standing in the doorway, revelling in the sorry sight. Elfwine opened his eyes very reluctantly and looked bleary-eyed at his father.

“Father, at some point of your life somebody must have treated you very badly. Otherwise you would not be treating me so!”

Éomer grinned. “Aye, my son. Your great-uncle Théodred did exactly the same to me – until I got old enough to hold my drink. Now get up, you lot – or do you want me to fetch your younger cousins and siblings and have them wake you?”

The three young men quickly got up, and although they all felt both queasy and dizzy, they stumbled into their clothes, splashed some water in their faces and hurried down to breakfast. Although, to tell the truth they were not as hungry as usual.

Their mothers felt a bit sorry for them, as mothers tend to, but everyone else revelled in the sight, especially their fathers.

Elboron mumbled, “If it is like that to be grown up, I am not sure that I want it.”

Haldred smiled at his cousin: “I am glad that I was not subject to that treatment. To be honest, you all three look like something, which has been dragged up of ….” He did not get any further, as his mother intervened.

“Thank you, Haldred, that will be all. I do not think that we would like to know.” Knowing her son, she had a very good idea of what he would have said.

Éomer grinned. “Aye, and by the end of today you are going to look your best; all nobility from Gondor and Ithilien are arriving for the grand harvest ball. And you are going to be present and behave your best. Being royalty carries with it certain obligations.”

Aragorn, who also had relished the look on his son’s face, especially when he tried to force down some food, added “and that means caring for your sisters and cousins, dancing with them – and also dancing with the wives and daughters of the nobility. Sorry, lads, but that is the way that it is. I suggest that you take some rest while you can – or even better get some fresh air and some exercise. Somehow I think that you will need it.”

He grinned at the others. The three young men finished their meal in a hurry and went to the stables to find their horses and go for a ride in the fresh air. They were quite sure that this was the best thing to do, under the circumstances.

“We may be able to fight like grown-ups, but we certainly cannot drink like them.” Elfwine groaned, holding his forehead as he sat down on a crate in the stable before collecting his saddle and tackle. “Let us get some fresh air; hopefully we will feel better for it.”

“Yes,” said Eldarion, “and perhaps our sisters and cousins will have stopped looking at us the way they did this morning by the time we get home. By the Valar, my head is killing me!”


---oooOOOooo---

The entire citadel was humming with excitement. The girls were busy trying on dresses and jewellery and discussing how to do their hair except for Amrihil, who did not cherish the idea of wearing a dress. She tried to plead her case to Lothíriel, but her aunt was on the side of her mother and was adamant that for once her niece should wear a dress.

“I did occasionally, and it is not that bad; dancing is so much fun.” “What if no one will dance with me?” the girl said sullenly.

“Oh, I am quite sure that somebody will,” Lothíriel said and made a mental note that at least one of her boys should dance with their cousin. Only the older children were allowed to participate in the ball, which meant that the youngest would be in their beds before it started.

“Luckily” Lothíriel remarked to her sister-in-law “it will be nice having an evening off and to get a chance to dance with our husbands.”

“If they are up to it,” Éowyn grinned.

“Oh, they will be. Neither of them could let go a challenge,” the Queen of Rohan joked. “Even though Éomer probably will complain that his old legs cannot carry him around the dance floor, everybody knows that he is a man in his prime, and I tell you if he can fight Southrons, he can dance as well.”

Her sister-in-law laughed at the petite queen; she knew by now that she could handle her big husband very well and she seldom accepted no as an answer.

The great hall of the king was filled with music, laughter and nobility from all over Gondor and Ithilien and was decorated with various objects, symbolising harvest. The young members of the various royal households looked at it all, the boys especially feeling quite out of place.

“It is certainly not like Meduseld and the celebrations there,” Haldred whispered to his big brother.

“No, it tends to be a bit more informal back home,” Elfwine admitted, “and a bit more comfortable.”

Éomer and Lothíriel looked at their children and Lothíriel whispered to her husband: “They do look so grown up tonight; even Théodwyn and Ciera.

“Aye, but I wish that they would behave as such,” her husband replied. And then he turned to look at her. “And before you say anything more, my Queen, would you care to dance with me? After all, this is where we first danced all those years ago. I know that you would like to.”

He turned to his children “And the four of you; go find your cousins and friends; dance with them – and behave yourselves!” He took his wife’s hand and led her onto the dance floor.

“You must admit,” Théodwyn remarked to her siblings, “father is very good at this, he dances like a courtier.”

Elfwine smiled. “Yes, and he once admitted to me that he had to be dragged to the hall to have dance lessons with aunt Éowyn, his uncle insisting that he be brought up to be royal.”

“Just like he has done with us,” Haldred grinned, “but I am sure that it will prove valuable tonight. I will go find Amrihil.”

Eldarion came up to them; he looked straight at Théodwyn. “I am under strict orders from the King of Gondor,” he smirked, “to dance with the fair ladies of Rohan.”

Elfwine laughed. “Yes, and I am under orders from the King of Rohan to try to avoid treading on your sister’s toes. Shall we get down to it?” He left them and walked over to Celebrian, asking her father’s permission to dance with her.

Aragorn nodded, and Elfwine led the blushing princess out on the dance floor with the look of a Marshal of the Mark heading into battle. However, once he got the hang of it, and found out that it was not as difficult as it seemed with the elf-like princess in his arms, he mused, “this actually feels rather good; it’s quite different from dancing with my sisters.”

“Will you look at that? It is like seeing Éomer and Lothíriel.” Gimli shook his head. “What will come of this?” he asked Legolas, who just smiled. “Probably only good things, but they are far too young.”

Haldred had beaten his cousin to Amrihil, and Elboron therefore went to Ciera to ask her for a dance. “It is always better to start with someone that you know,” he told her, “although I know that I cannot compare to the Riders of Rohan, dear cousin.”

Ciera blushed “And what would you know of that, you prat.”

“Oh, a great deal, remember Elfwine writes me letters from time to time!”

Éomer and Lothíriel had finished their dance and joined Éowyn and Faramir and the others.

“It certainly looks like they are enjoying themselves in spite of everything.” Lothíriel mused looking out over the dance floor. “And even Ciera is dancing; I did not think that she would. Her head has been full of a certain young Rider of Rohan for the past couple of months, sighing every time he is on guard or just walks past her. She is far too young, but it is a teenage girl’s crush, so it is hard to do anything about it,” Lothíriel sighed.

Éowyn looked at her. “At that age, Lothy, I also had crushes on my brother’s friends. Surely you must have had, too. But you are right; they are very young.”

“As long as they are only looking.” Éomer smiled. “But the young man in question is Elfhelm’s eldest and I could fear that he is very much like his father in that respect; I do remember, sister dear, that he was one of the most ardent of the young men chasing you.”

Éowyn almost blushed. “Remind me that I should never tell stories about my youth when you are around.” She laughed, “Your memory is too good. Should I tell stories about you?”

“You already have told enough to Lothy, sister; you did quite early in our marriage, and she has been interrogating me about all the women in Rohan from time to time since then.” Éomer laughed.

Elfwine and Celebrian had never found it so difficult to talk, as they did right now. Arwen looked at them and remembered a time very, very long ago at Rivendell, when her otherwise very eloquent husband had almost been struck dumb on a similar occasion. She leaned towards him: “Estel, look at your daughter and Elfwine; I have a feeling that the next Queen of Rohan will come from Gondor as well.”

Aragorn looked at her: “Your premonitions usually come true, but they are very young, you know.”

“Yes, I do know, my husband and they are not going to realise it, nor marry for years to come. But they will. And I think that the same will be the case for our son; the next Queen of Gondor will be a dark-haired Rohirrim. Look at him; he has that faraway look in his eyes, which I have only seen once before.”

Aragorn smiled. “I believe you, Love, you have the gift of your grandmother. But they have much to do before they should have to make that decision.”

“And perhaps some wild oats to sow as well.” he mused to himself. "at least if they are anything like their fathers.” He looked at his friends, “but at least they might be spared the evil times that we had to live through.”

Éomer looked up and caught Aragorn’s eyes, reading in them what he was thinking and he nodded, acknowledging the thought. “Like fathers, like sons; it sounds quite ominous, but it is still quite an encouraging thought.”
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