Eomer's ward

With thanks, as always to my beta, SilverMoonLady, without whom, this story would have died long ago!



Chapter 4

The long days of summer were drawing to a close, and the chill of autumn could be felt on the winds that now swept through Rohan. Dan had been at his new home for over three months, and although he had found it hard at first to adjust to his new life in this strange place, he had gradually found a sense of routine and security that he had not known in a long time. His days were busy, so busy in fact, that he had little time now to reflect upon his homesickness or suffer the melancholy that had plagued his first few weeks in the Mark.

As ordered, Dan had risen early each day to attend to Eomer’s horse, Firefoot. At first he had feared the horse, so great was its size and strength, and he had found it difficult to deal with the beast. Gradually, the horse and stable boy had come to know one another, and a trust was developing between them that made Dan privately glow with pride. Eomer had been pleased with the boy’s attentions and had praised him on several occasions, apart from the one morning, when the boy had accidentally slept late. He soon found himself being dragged from his bed by an angry Eomer, who boxed his ears and berated him sharply. It was a mistake Dan was careful never to repeat.

After his morning duties in the stables were over, the boy was obliged to attend his daily instruction in the schoolroom. Dan had tried repeatedly to persuade Eowyn to release him from his ‘torture’ of daily lessons with the ancient tutor.

“But my Lady, it will serve no purpose to make me continue with these lessons,” he had bemoaned, most days over breakfast. “I am no scholar – not like Lord Faramir! Please release me from this torment; I fear I will be the death of my tutor, so great is his frustration at trying to teach me Rohirric!”

But Eowyn had merely laughed and steadfastly refused his plea each time.

“Indeed I will not young sir, for Lord Faramir was quite insistent that you receive lessons whilst you were under my brother’s care. We would be remiss if we were not to oblige him in this matter,” Eowyn had replied, condemning the boy to spend each morning in a continual state of tedium as the old tutor tried his best to engage the boy in learning.

The afternoons, however, held much more interest for Dan. Once released from the boredom of the schoolroom, he would dash off to the training grounds, where the warriors practiced their skills. Dan was learning how to use a sword, and although a novice at first, he had taken to his instruction readily, impressing the Weapon’s Master with his progress and skill. After the first few lessons, Dan had been partnered with another boy of a similar age, Leod, a son of one of the Marshals. Initially, the two had been wary of each other. The Rohirrim were an insular people, and did not take to strangers or visitors well. They were unsure of what to make of this lad from Minas Tirith; he was a foreigner, sullen and quiet, and a burden they all felt that their new king could very well do without. Given time, however, a friendship had flourished between the two boys and Dan had revelled in having company of his own age once again. He reflected that he had not played with other children since the day he had been sent to live at the Steward’s House.

There had been no other children in the citadel, and Dan’s days had been lonely and long. The old Steward, Denethor, had taken little interest in the boy, placing him in the care of tutors and servants, who were to be his only company within the dismal grey confines of his new home. Occasionally, Denethor would request his presence at table, a request that the boy would view with nervous anticipation. Dan would have to endure the increasingly unpredictable manner of this frightening man, as he lurched from one mood to another. Denethor would at first feign interest in the boy’s progress in his studies, or his riding, listening to the young boy as he answered his questions timidly. Often he would go on to lament about the boy’s mother, his manner soft and kind, ruffling Dan’s hair and patting him on the shoulder in a gesture of pity and love that always made Dan flinch, because he knew what was coming next. The Steward’s mood would darken, and without warning he would become morose and deep, ignoring the young lad before him, his mind seemingly elsewhere, and his thoughts private and concealed. Dan was always frightened of him when he was like this, and he would be forced to sit in silence, too scared to speak until his Lord excused him and gave him leave to retire.

Thankfully, there were no deep or difficult adults to deal with at Edoras, for here everything was much simpler. Eowyn and Eomer both spoke their minds freely and would openly either scold or praise the boy without calculation. If he had done something wrong, Dan had come to expect a sharp dressing down, or even a box to the ears, from anyone who deemed it necessary, from the King right down to the cook. There seemed to be no account given for his title or rank; to the Rohirrim he was just a boy. But just as they were quick to scold, they were also quick to laugh and meal times in the hall were relaxed and often amusing, a far cry from his memories of the last few years. Though Dan would never admit it, even to himself, he was beginning to feel at home.

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“I have good news for you boy,” said Eomer, a glint of humour lighting his eyes as he surveyed the boy across the breakfast table. “There will be no lessons today, for we must bring the harvest in, and every strong pair of hands is needed before the weather turns. We have a long winter ahead of us and I would have the grain stores full.”

Dan stared back at the King open-mouthed.

“No lessons! That is indeed good news, my Lord!” the boy replied, smiling broadly, his delight at escaping from the schoolroom obvious for all to see.

Eomer laughed out loud and shook his head.

“I can understand your distaste for your lessons, Boy, for I too was always the reluctant student, but I very much doubt that you have ever toiled all day in a field before! By the end of this one, you may well wish you were back at your lessons,” Eomer warned.

“I will take my chances, my Lord,” replied Dan with an impish grin on his face.

After they had broken their fast, Eomer and Dan made their way to the lower fields, where Eomer consulted with a group of men about the order of work for the day. Dan was amazed to see so many people of the Mark assembled. Men, women and children, young and old, had all come together to gather in the crops with a spirit of cheerfulness and purpose.

Eomer barked out instruction from his seat on Firefoot to the various groups and, without question or preamble, his people set to their tasks quickly and efficiently, aware of the roles they played in this important communal task. Dan stood awkwardly and waited for his instruction, for although he was eager and glad to be outside on this fine day, he had never worked the land before and knew nothing of harvesting crops.

However, after the first week, Dan was indeed contemplating whether the schoolroom would have been the easier option. His arms and back ached from the many hours of cutting and carrying the crops, and his face was burnt red by the long hours spent in the sun. On more than one occasion, he had fallen asleep at the supper table, youthful energy spent by his days in the field. Eomer had teased him about it, as he shook the boy awake, before sending him to his bed, much to the displeasure of the indignant lad.

“The hour is early, my Lord!” Dan would plead in protest, even though he knew he was more than ready for sleep. He still felt that at thirteen, he was much too old to be sent to bed so early.

“You are exhausted boy,” the king would note sternly. “Off to your bed, and I will brook no argument from you.”


On the final day of the harvest, Dan was relieved to hear the bell that summoned the workers in from the fields, for tonight there was to be merriment to celebrate the good harvests of Rohan, and a great feast was to be held in the hall.

As he walked back across the fields, he decided to take a shortcut, eager to get home and prepare for the evening’s celebration. Though Eomer had told him the path was dangerous and had forbidden him to use it or go anywhere near the old boat house, going down by the river would shorten his journey and he could be home in half the time if he ran. Dan was now leery of provoking the King’s wrath, especially to tread a path so clearly out of bounds, but he had dared it before, and had every intention of doing so today.

He was half way along the path, when he heard the sound of a horse. Dan narrowed his eyes and peered down the bank to the old boathouse, just visible through the cover of trees. There was indeed a horse, but not just any horse, Dan realised; it was the King’s horse – Firefoot! Intrigued at this sight, Dan stopped and pondered what to do. Why would Eomer himself come to the disused boathouse, when he had been so insistent that Dan stay away from the area? Unable to contain his curiosity any longer he slipped quietly down the bank and sneaked around the hut, trying to find a crack or space where he could spy inside. Kneeling on the ground he found a loose board and pushing it to one side he looked inside – only to see that Eomer was not alone!

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That night, Dan ate heartily. The food was plentiful and the ale flowed freely in the hall. The people of Edoras sang their songs and the women danced as toasts were made to the new King and the good harvest. Dan was seated next to Eowyn and she smiled warmly at him as her people celebrated their good fortune.

“You have worked hard in the fields these last weeks Danimir, the people of Rohan thank you this night.”

“Thank you, My Lady,” Dan replied, blushing with embarrassment. He looked over at the King who was drinking with some of his men, his face relaxed, his voice happy, the worries and responsibilities of his office seemingly forgotten this night.

As the evening wore on, Eomer came over to his sister and put his arm affectionately on her shoulder.

“Eowyn, we have much to be thankful for this night. The Valar have blessed us indeed, for our people will have full bellies this winter, and my mind is at peace,”

Eowyn looked up at her brother and smiled, touching his face affectionately and acknowledging his weight of office.

“The people of Rohan have much to be thankful for indeed my brother, for they have been blessed with a good King, strong of arm and heart.”

Eomer laughed out loud and then took his sister’s hand and kissed it.

“Sister, I shall miss you when you leave the house of Eorl next year,” replied the King seriously. “Who then will I share our people’s happiness with?”

“You should take a wife, Brother. You need a good woman, a mate!” replied Eowyn laughing.

The King frowned deeply at his sister and shook his head.

“A wife! Who would I marry? There is no romance in my life, little Sister, no woman whom I desire to be my mate.”

“Yes, there is,” said Dan innocently as he joined in the conversation. “You could marry the girl you were with today. You seemed to like her a lot.”

Eowyn turned to look at Dan, astonished and not a little curious. She was eager to know of this woman.

“Ahh, so he has a secret sweetheart! Pray tell, who is she?” Eowyn teased looking from boy to man, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“I think her name is Bryn. I have seen her many times around the barracks and all the soldiers seem to like her,” began Danimir, oblivious to the obvious.

Eowyn’s eyes widened in shock, whilst Eomer’s face blushed brightly as he realised who the boy was referring to.

“I saw you with her today,” the boy continued, grinning at the King. “You were kissing her, so you must desire her! Why don’t you ask her to marry y. . .” Dan said naively, before noticing the shared look of acute embarrassment on the faces of both sister and brother.

“Be silent! You are mistaken,” interrupted Eomer hastily, stopping the boy before he could finish his sentence. The king took a deep breath, struggling to find something to say to hide his awkwardness and embarrassment in front of his innocent sister.

“But, it’s true,” Dan protested, confused and puzzled by Eomer’s angry denial. “I saw you in the boathouse, by the river; you kept calling out her name.”

Eowyn put a hand to her mouth to hide her amusement. Her brother had well and truly been found out and she watched him with a smug hint of satisfaction as he squirmed and flustered before her, the fierce and proud King of Rohan brought to heel by a mere boy of thirteen.

“Brother, it would seem you have much to teach your young ward, for he is rather confused by your choice of . . . companion,” Eowyn said calmly, looking her brother directly in the eye.

Eomer cursed quietly under his breath.

“It is time you were abed,” snapped Eomer irritably, grabbing the boy by the collar and pulling him up from his chair none too gently.

“But the hour is not late, why must I go to bed?” protested the struggling boy. “It is not fair! I tell only the truth, my Lady,” pleaded Dan, as he tried to engage the Lady Eowyn to his plight.

“Danimir!” roared the king, pushing the boy forward, eager to remove himself and the child from his sister’s presence.

“You cannot mean to punish me!” pleaded Dan beseechingly, frantically trying to hold on to his chair. “I have done nothing wrong, Sire!”

“Oh, but you have, little lord!” retorted Eomer smugly. “Were you not forbidden to go near the river or the boathouse?” asked Eomer, turning the boy towards him by his shoulders. “Did I not tell you it was dangerous?”

“Yes . . . But my Lord, I was just taking a shortcut,” Dan pleaded, trying to excuse his own indiscretion.

“Nevertheless, you disobeyed me, boy,” replied Eomer, turning him around once more he pushed the lad towards the door to the private apartments, where the family lived. Dan dragged his feet as he was marched out of the hall, miserably grumbling to himself along the way.

“Brother!” Eowyn called after him suddenly. The King turned and met his sister’s teasing eyes. “It would seem the old boathouse is indeed a dangerous place, for any and all!”