Eomer's ward

Thanks to my beta SilverMoonLady, in who's genius I stand in awe!



Chapter 3 – “War is the province of men”


Dan woke the next morning with a hunger in his belly that ached like none he had ever known. Still half asleep, he pulled on his boots and stretched his gangly limbs, yawning as he scanned the silent stables, momentarily confused as to why he was there. All at once, the memories of yesterday came flooding back to him and he inwardly winced when he recalled his humiliating episode over the king’s knee. The boy closed his eyes and groaned.

The quiet of dawn was broken as the stable boys came through the doors, their noisy chatter and clanging of buckets heralding their arrival. The sun’s rays shone through the open doors, illuminating the tiny particles of dust and hay that floated in the air as the horses kicked at their stalls in anticipation of their morning feed. Dan stood up considering what to do next, as he was not eager to meet their inquisitive looks. He finally decided to make for the hall and seek out some breakfast.

As he walked outside into the crisp morning air, the chill of the wind caught his breath. The sun was not yet high enough in the sky to warm the skin and Dan shivered slightly as he hurried along the path. As he climbed the steps to the great doors, his stomach began to tighten a little, though not from hunger this time, but more from dread of facing his new liege. Perhaps the king would not be up yet, and Dan might slip, unnoticed, to the kitchens to beg cook for some much needed food. Being a growing lad of thirteen, he had already endeared himself to the cook earlier in the week and had been rewarded with a steady flow of tasty tit bits over the last few days.

Dan stood before the huge wooden doors to the hall and waited for the Royal Guard to admit him. The two men on duty surveyed him closely, causing Dan to squirm a little before them. He wondered if they knew about yesterday’s ‘incident’, but the look of shared amusement he thought he saw cross their faces before they eventually opened the heavy doors left him little doubt. The boy stole quietly into the Hall of Meduseld, but before he could venture further than a couple of yards, a voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Where are you skulking off to?” the King inquired from the other side of the silent hall.

The boy's face blushed and he stumbled nervously over his answer.

“I… I was just going to the kitchens…” he began, shocked to find the king at table so early.

“Are you hungry?” asked Eomer directly.

“Yes. Yes sir, I am famished.”

Eomer chuckled at the boy’s honesty and surveyed him in detail, noting his scruffy appearance.

“You need to wash and change; I can smell you from here. If you sit down to table smelling like a horse, my sister will take us both to task. Go clean yourself up, I will tell a servant to lay out your food. Well, hurry, boy!” added Eomer sternly, causing Danimir to flinch at his tone.

“Yes, sir,” Dan replied respectfully, wary not to anger this man in any way. He made his way quickly through the hall to his sleeping chamber. Once inside, he leaned against the door and sighed, cursing Lord Faramir out loud for sending him to this barbaric place.

~~~~~

Eomer had almost finished his meal by the time the boy returned, clean and wearing fresh clothes. Dan sat down at the table and surveyed the array of delicious food before him, hesitating nervously as he glanced up at Eomer.

“Eat,” ordered the king.

Dan, his hunger now in overdrive began to devour the hearty breakfast with zeal, stuffing warm bread, honey and fruit into his mouth in quick succession. Eomer smiled as he watched the youth satisfy his hunger, recalling similar memories of himself from his younger days. Eomer gestured for the servant to bring more food and poured the boy a glass of buttermilk and pushed it across the table to him. Dan took the milk and nodded his thanks, his mouth too full to say the words. Lifting the cup to his mouth he began to gulp down its sweetness within.

“So, little Lord of Gondor,” began Eomer, settling back in his chair and pausing. “What do we do with you?”

Dan looked nervously at the king before he lowered the cup from his mouth and placed it slowly down upon the table, swallowing hard.

“My Lord?” he replied, apprehensively wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Your liege, Lord Faramir has placed a heavy burden upon me, you are to live as one of my household, under my care and guardianship, yet I will be honest with you I know little of how to care for a child,” Eomer announced.

“I am not a child,” retorted Danimir crossly as he met the eyes of the man opposite him.

“Nor are you yet a man,” warned Eomer sternly, noting the spark of arrogance that carried from the boy’s voice.

The tone of the king’s reply made Dan think again and he lowered his eyes in a gesture of deference and sighed.

“I do not intend offence my lord,” Dan replied courteously. “I just wish I were of age, and then I would be a burden to no one. I know that Lord Faramir feels he has a duty to me, but that is all it is – duty. He does not know what to do with me either, that is why I have been sent here. I cannot blame him for he hardly knows me, or I him.” Dan went on to explain how he had come to live under the care of the Steward of Gondor the previous year.

“When my mother died, Lord Denethor had me brought to the citadel to live as his ward, and though I lived in the Steward’s House during this past year, I very rarely saw Faramir or his brother Boromir. In fact, I saw little of anyone at all,” Danimir stated sullenly as he played absently with the crumbs on his plate. “As soon as I am able, I will join the Rangers and fight, and then I will be a burden to no one,” he concluded looking at the king solemnly.

Eomer looked at the boy and sighed.

“Lord Faramir is an honourable man and would take his responsibilities seriously. He has sent you here because he sees fit, do not doubt that, boy.” The king took an apple from the dish, looking at it closely as he polished it on his sleeve. “Do not be in too much of a hurry to go into battle, little lord, for the time will come when you will be called upon to defend your lands and your people. However, war is the province of men, not boys,” Eomer added, pensively looking over at Danimir. “And you are still a boy.”

Dan shifted uncomfortably in the chair, strangely unsettled by their conversation and the king’s melancholy tone. Suddenly, Eomer stood up and pushed his chair back, unexpectedly tossing the apple across the table to Dan.

“Come, we have things to attend to,” he commanded as he turned and began to make his way outside. Dan, unsure exactly what he was suppose to do, followed the king out of the hall and down the steps, running to keep up with the tall man’s great strides. Eomer made straight for the stables and Firefoot’s stall. He nodded his head in greeting to the stable master who was busy at his work.

“Well, how did the boy fare?” Eomer asked running his hands over the mighty steed, examining his coat and mane in detail. “Are you satisfied with his work?”

“Aye, he did well sire. Stable duty is hard work, as you will no doubt remember,” replied the old man, winking at the king. Eomer’s mouth melted into a smile and he nodded his head in agreement.

“Aye, I remember,” acknowledged Eomer before gesturing the boy closer with his finger.

Dan did as he was bid and came to stand beside the king.

“Look here, you have missed some of his coat, see the dirt just here by his shoulder,” Eomer said glancing quickly at the boy. Dan nodded and bit his lip anxiously, anticipating with sick dread the King’s discipline. But Eomer simply turned back to the beast and pattered it affectionately. “Otherwise, you have done well,” he continued, his eyes scanning over the rest of the horses and tack, silently noting the minor mistakes one expected of inexperienced and exhausted hands.

“Very well, Danimir of Gondor,” Eomer began in a loud voice. “You shall care for my horse every day from now on. You will feed him, groom him, clean his tack and his stall,” Eomer declared, staring down at the young lad.

Dan’s mouth fell open and he took a sharp intake of breath as he comprehended this last sentence. Why him? There were stable hands to see to the horses, why did the king want him to care for this great brute of a horse. Firefoot was over seventeen hands high and Dan had struggled to lift the saddle from him last night.

“Every day, my lord?” Dan asked hesitantly, aghast at the order.

“Yes, from this day until the day you leave Edoras,” proclaimed the king. “He is your responsibility now, and if I find his care lacking in any way or if he becomes ill, then you shall answer to me,” Eomer warned. Overawed by the enormity of the task before him, Danimir missed the mischievous glint in the king’s eye as he took the apple from the stunned boy’s hand and he fed it to his horse.

~~~~~~~

Eowyn scowled at her brother as he recounted the tale to her later that day. She was still unsure of Eomer’s treatment of the child and worried over how Faramir would view this arrangement regarding his ward.

“Danimir is a young Lord of Gondor Eomer, not a stable boy,” Eowyn reminded her brother as she followed him into their late uncle’s private study.

“He is a boy, and that is how I shall treat him whilst he is under my roof, Eowyn. He will come to no harm cleaning stables,” replied Eomer as he perused a handful of scrolls before tossing them impatiently across the table.

“Where is the boy now?” Eowyn asked.

Eomer sighed as he sat down to the task before him. “Well… He is at lessons presently, and after that I have left instruction that he meet with the Weapons Master.”

“The Weapons Master! What ever for? Don’t tell me you’ve given him cleaning duties there as well?” exclaimed Eowyn.

Eomer leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk, casually surveying his little sister.

“My dear sister, as you are at great pains to keep reminding me, Danimir is a young lord. I have left instruction that he is to be tutored each day in sword and bow, as befits his noble birth,” Eomer replied with a smirk. “I have also undertaken to teach this Gondorian to ride, for I cannot allow him to shame my horses any longer. Why, he rides only marginally worse than your betrothed,” he added, needling Eowyn with some pleasure.

Eowyn glared at her brother, all the while desperately trying to suppress the giggle that would escape her mouth. Eomer raised his eyebrow and gave his sister a cheeky look.

Eowyn opened her mouth to speak, her regal head held high as she tried to defend her betrothed.

“Faramir is an excellent horseman . . . for a Gondorian,” she admitted as they both broke into a fit of laughter.