The Last Journey of Theoden King

Title – ‘The Last Journey of Theoden King’ Ch 2
Author – Lizzie Wright
Rating – PG
Summery – Theoden’s last journey home as seen through the eyes of his esquire, Merry.
Disclaimer – All characters belong to Tolkien, what more can I say.
Authors note – If anyone is up to beta reading this chapter that would be so great, I would love you for life – hehe.


With the sun shining hotly overhead, for again there weren’t many clouds in the sky, Merry wiped the sweat from his brow with his kerchief. With the mountains to their left the sea breeze felt at Minas Tirith had weakened, now replaced with a stifling stillness that in essence felt suffocating to Merry. Taking a deep breath he moved Theoden’s sword to rest on the bier so that he could give his legs a stretch. So busy was he in stretching his legs, he failed to hear the approach of a horse from behind. A voice startled him, causing him to jump, which in turn caused the sword to slip. Grasping quickly at the hilt, Merry managed to save it before it disappeared over the edge of the bier and onto the ground. Horrified at what might have happened, Merry clutched his squire’s sword to his breast and then kissed it soundly on the helm.
“I am sorry I frightened you Merry, are you alright?”
Merry glanced at the rider, than relaxed. Eowyn walked her horse beside the bier, concern etched in her features, her hand reached out to him for support.
“ My lady, you did frighten me, but nothing bad has come of the fright, so do not worry about me,” Merry said. Eowyn smiled softly and moved her hand back to take the reins. They continued on in companionable silence for a while, until Merry again took his kerchief out to wipe at his forehead.
“I was right, Merry you are not handling this confounded heat very well, you need to rest?” Eowyn moved her horse closer to the bier and again reached her hand out to him.
“I will be alright, we will stop for lunch soon, won’t we?”
“ Not for another hour or so, Eomer says we are doing wonderful time considering the pace we are set, not that we could, should, or want to go any faster. Are you sure you will be alright until then?”
“Yes Lady Eowyn, I am sure I will be alright. I will not fail Theoden King; I will not embarrass him by fainting on his bier. Eowyn, know that I am alright,” Merry said, then he whispered, “He was like a father to me.”
Eowyn clutched her hand to her breast and lowered her head in sadness, “He was a father to us all Merry, he was a leader, a warrior, a true man in every sense of the word.”
“I meant no disrespect by my comment My Lady, though I could not have loved him as you and your brother do, he was my commander, inspiration and King for such a time as I could not forget him.” Merry cried with passion, leaning towards her to emphasize his point.
“Oh Merry, I know he was to you what he was to everyone. He loved you Merry, as much as he tried to deny you battle, he only did because he loved you, as he loved me.” Eowyn said, reaching her hand this time to clasp Merry’s. Merry leant over and kissed her hand, then for the remainder of the hour they held hands in comfort and friendship.
By the time they stopped on the road for lunch and refreshment, the sun was sitting decidedly westward. Where they halted, at the end of the Druaden Forest, the road cut in towards the mountains, which covered the road in welcome shade. Merry sat next to Eowyn on a picnic blanket eating some bread and ham and gulping down wonderful, clear, fresh water. His throat parched, the water soothed it and seemed to energise his body and mind. Sam and Frodo sat with them, and after a time the Princess Lothiriel also sat on the blanket, close to Eowyn. Eowyn and Merry smiled at her, Eowyn filled a mug with water for her.
“Here you go Lothiriel, you must be as parched as Merry.”
“I thankyou, Eowyn, I am thirsty,” Lothiriel smiled her thanks before draining the mug quickly. “ Is it always this warm at summertime here?”
“Only in this area it seems, further north the cooler winds seem to use the Misty Mountains and the forest of Mirkwood as a tunnel, therefore the further north you go the cooler it gets. For some reason the winds seem to wither before they reach Nardol.”
“Nardol?” Lothiriel asked. Eowyn turned and pointed over to the mountains. Nestled in amongst the lower hills a small town could be seen. Brown bricked buildings sprung out of the lime green grasses, their thatched roofs like the gold hair of the Rohorrim. Stone fences cordoned off areas into fields where sheep and cows and the occasional horse grazed unconcerned with their royal spies.
“Are there many towns along the Great West Road?”
“Quite a few here in Anorien, once we reach the Mark though the larger towns will disappear and only the small villages of my people will lay hidden.”
Lothiriel nodded then fell silent as she ran out of questions to ask. Merry, sensing her discomfit attempted to continue on the conversation. “And Lady Lothiriel, where you are from, do you have many towns and villages about?’
Lothiriel shyly glanced at Merry before replying, “yes, I am from Dol Amroth, which is quite a large city, we have many surrounding towns and villages, and many dot the road to Minas Tirith.”
“I think I should like to see Dol Amroth one day, perhaps when I am at Minas Tirith one time I may make the extra journey and visit you My Lady,” Merry winked at her, causing her cheeks to turn a rosy red colour.
“I thought I told you Master Merry to wait until tonight before you flirt with the Princess,” Eomer appeared and fell to his knees on the blanket next to Merry and Eowyn. Merry laughed, before a glance at Lothiriel abated his mirth. The rosy red in her cheeks had spread to the rest of her face and neck, and she appeared to have frozen on the spot, not taking her eyes from her hands. Eowyn had reached out and touched Lothiriel’s arm. Glaring at her brother, she gave him what for, “Eomer, dearest brother, if you wish to tease on such things than do so, but not in my hearing, or any other ladies.”
“I do apologise sister, and Lady Lothiriel for any discomfort I may have bought upon you, but I came to let you know we set off again to make Erelas before sunset, we are making such good time Eowyn that I was contemplating a tour of the villages of the eastfold perhaps, so the people may pay tribute to their fallen King, I will not do it if it grieve you though, I know you are anxious to be home.”
“If you so wish brother, you are king now and whatever you decide is fine because you are my King,” Eowyn murmured.
“And I am your brother Eowyn, in fact first and foremost I am your brother and as your brother I would do what pleases you,” Eomer reached his hand to touch her hair affectionately.
“I wish to just reach home and lay our uncle with his kin,” replied Eowyn.
Eomer nodded as he rose to his feet, “anything you wish Eowyn, we leave soon, I hope to make Erelas before sunset.” He strode off then, barking orders to his men. Merry noticed Eowyn who was watching Lothiriel gaze after her brother. A hopeful smile flitted across Eowyn’s lips. Merry also felt hopeful, Eowyn had happiness of true love now; Eomer deserved it just as much as she did. Merry looked around to Frodo and Sam, who had been sitting quietly listening to the many conversations.
“You thinking of Rosie Cotton, Sam?” Merry asked with a sly look. Sam looked at him bashfully, his cheeks flushed.
“Maybe,” Sam muttered. Merry and Frodo laughed.
The trip to Erelas took a little longer than expected, due to some scouts citing possible orcs in the foothills of the mountains. Eomer, to be on the safe side had halted the procession and investigated the report before continuing. There had been orcs about, made apparent by the small campsites filled with forgotten orc designed arrows and armour. A stench that overcame some of the Knights and riders, hung like poison around the camps. They continued on cautiously, many more scouts were sent in all directions. Nothing else was reported though and the procession made Erelas safely.
Erelas was a middle-sized town, with one main street, which had dozens of offshoots of lanes, paths and dead-ends. The buildings in the centre of town were built with thick, grey stone, and roofed with wooden slats sealed with mud and grass. The outer houses were built similar to the buildings they had seen at Nardol. With the Bier resting safely in a field on the outskirts of town, Merry went walking to stretch his aching legs. He walked the entire main street of Erelas and much to his embarrassment, he was often stared at and exclaimed over. One little girl caught his attention though.
“Look Mama, a little man, why his my size!” the girl exclaimed, her eyes bulging from their sockets. Merry laughed and waved at her, to his delight she waved back, all the while her mother trying to drag her away and telling her it was impolite to stare. Nodding to her, he continued his way down the street until he reached the end. Turning back to face the way he had come, he was surprised to see it was a fair distance. With the sun now set and the moon rising slowly from the east, the street, still quite busy, was lit by softly glowing torches every ten feet. In the windows of the many shops and houses that lined the street, candle light spun out like the glow of the evening sun, warming the pavement and faces of the people that passed by. Suddenly, out of the door of a pub, a man stumbled backwards closely followed by another man who was shouting angrily. It took Merry a moment to realise that the man stumbling out of the pub was Gamling, one who had been one of Theoden’s right hand men. More shouting ensued as more Rohorrim spilled out of the pub. Sensing a fight, Merry looked desperately around. The main street was now cut off by all the rowdy men, the only way Merry could get back to the camp to alert Eomer was to go via the backstreets and countless fields and paddocks.
He set off at a jog, his large feet slapping the dirt road and his breath puffing in time. He passed many houses, some large and elaborately decorated, others small and simple. He passed paddocks full of cattle, and a few fields with dappled horses sleeping, though there ears pricked up at the sound of Merry passing by. Not much later, he made the camp and headed immediately for the Rohan King’s tent. This tent, not quite so elaborate as King Elessar’s tent, was still beautifully made with hand-woven knot work bordering the plain calico walls. From the top of the tent the Green Rohan flag, with the white horse on it hung still and silent in the humid stillness of the night.
Merry stopped at the tent flap and loudly cleared his float. A deep, stern voice called for him to enter. Pushing the flap back, Merry stepped inside. The inside of the tent was warm and still. A single candle fluttered light to its master, who was sitting on the edge of his cot, his head in his hands, his blonde hair making a curtain across his cheeks. Merry, already to report the fight felt his mouth close and his step falter. Eomer looked like a defeated man. His shoulders were slumped and his back, curved forward looked weak and humped as if a great load bore upon it.
“My King, what worries you? Eomer?” Merry quietly asked. Eomer raised his head to look at him, dropping his hands into his lap.
“I have tried to be strong Merry, but I can’t do this, I know I will fail,” Eomer said, avoiding eye contact with the hobbit. Merry stepped forward so that he was in front of Eomer. Reaching over, he took one of the Kings hands into his own, and he squeezed it, just as he had done to Eowyn’s hand earlier that day. Now Eomer looked into Merry’s eyes.
“What will you fail at my lord, my friend? You, who bought such honour and respect to your people, you who loves your sister and uncle beyond death, you who inadvertently saved Pippin and me from those stinky Uruk-hai, now who else could have taken on those brutes and totally slaughtered them, and who can forget your bravery on the Pelennor Fields. I can assure you Eomer, you can not fail at anything,” Merry said in earnest. He meant every word. Merry had never seen Eomer in this light before, the light of failure and uncertainty. Yet it was in this light, that he realised how much he truly admired and loved Theoden’s nephew, for Eomer was very much like his uncle and this alone inspired awe from Merry.
Eomer shook his head roughly, “I was not trained in the way of the kingship, and I was not meant to be king. How could my uncle leave me like this, when Eowyn and I truly need him most.”
“You forget, it was not his choice, besides he is still with us, is that not what you told me last evening,” Merry lips slipped into a lopsided grin and he patted Eomer on the shoulder. Eomer smiled back at him.
“I think I shall keep you on within my house Master Merry, you are a great lifter of spirits and would be extremely useful around Edoras.”
Merry laughed, “Nay my Lord, I would not be so very useful, I would most likely just get in everyone’s way.”
They both laughed together, a warm laugh of growing friendship and honour. Once the laughter died down, Eomer’s eyebrows knitted and he cocked his head to the side, all the while he gazed at Merry.
“Why did you come here anyway Merry, don’t tell me you have tired of the Lady Lothiriel’s company already?”
Merry suddenly gasped and felt his face go red, “No, I completely forgot, there’s a fight, at the local pub, and I saw many Rohirrim involved – though they were not the only ones.”
Eomer leapt to his feet and reached for his cloak, without a word he swept aside the tent flap and stepped into the blackness of night. Merry, now standing alone in the Kings tent clicked his tongue and swung his arms. There was no way he was going anywhere near the pub and besides Eomer had left to take care of it, presumably. A yawn sneaked up Merry’s throat and he felt his jaw tighten, fighting to open.
“Perhaps I’d best go to bed,” Merry said out loud to no one. He left Eomer’s tent and began to wander in the general direction of the hobbits tent. Passing by one of the chorals for the horses, Merry noticed a young maid sitting quietly, leaning her back on a wooden post and feeding one of the horses an apple. On closer inspection Merry found the young girl to be Lothiriel. Making his way over to her, he decided that he would much rather get to know the Princess a little better than go to bed.