Shattered

~


Éomer brushed a hand against Elfwine’s cheek, the touch little more than a whisper of air; gentle, tentative. The skin radiated warmth - no - it burned against the tips of his fingers - he drew back, placing his palm against the window sill. He stood, still and unmoving, for a long moment, Elfwine’s soft breathing the only sound in the room.

'The Valar are kind.'

The infant sucked in a louder breath and released it with a shrill cry. In the brief silence that followed, a familiar odor filled the air.

Éomer's gaze dropped to the small table. Elfwine lay there, wrapped in a blanket - 'mine, made by my mother; green and gold of the Rohirrim' – reaching for him, small fists closing and opening in time with his rapid breaths. He leaned in and wrapped a finger around a lock of dark hair. Soft. The crying stopped at the touch – blue-gray eyes met his. Elfwine smiled, and his heart skipped a beat.

'The Valar are kind.'

Footsteps echoed through the night, but he closed his ears to them. Elfwine needed to be changed – he focused on that. The nursery maid rushed forward, nervous, timid and protective both, but he stopped her with a glance. He would do this tonight, like he had many nights before.

'My son…'

After he finished, Elfwine giggled and pulled on a lock of his hair, eyes sparkling. Leaning in close, Éomer drew in a lungful of the infant's fresh, clean smell. Sudden, unwanted tears blurred his vision.

Footsteps echoed through the night, and, this time, he listened. Gamling, some of his most trusted men… and her. They took her out of Meduseld, as he had commanded. Good. His gaze drifted to the open window and followed her as she climbed down the steps, regal, even now. Clad in a pure white dress, her dark hair unbound… proud, undefeated.

'Lothíriel…'

He looked away, shaking – with rage, sorrow, despair – he did not know. 'Traitor to the king…'

“Éomer King, do you wish me to take him?” The maid’s voice quivered, but she looked him in the eye, strong in her fear - a fine choice to tend to his son.

'My son… If only you were that.'

As if in a dream, he thrust Elfwine into the maid’s trembling hands and turned back, squeezing his eyes shut. No tears escaped - the door closed. He was left alone.

Replacing his hand against the window sill, he stared out, chilled, across the darkened see of grass.

'The Valar are kind. They never pain a Man more than he can bear.'

All his life, he believed it to be true.

He would believe it again.


~