Úreu. Æt áscian æt mæting (Ours; to learn to dream)

One and one half years later.

“Gamling!” The Queen met me in the courtyard, a curly –headed blonde on her hip. “We thought to send a search party!” She reached out with her free arm and hugged me, kissing my cheek. She looked over my shoulder, calling, “Éomer! Look who has finally returned from the East!”

His familiar hand clapped my shoulder, spinning me around and enveloping me in a friendly hug. “I expected you back much sooner, my friend!” There were fine wrinkles beginning to crease Éomer’s eyes. “Have you met our daughter?”

“Éomer, he just arrived.”

I nodded to both. “Congratulations.” I tickled the tiny foot and was gifted with a toothy, dribbly grin that looked much like her mother’s.

“Finally, we got it right.” Éomer was all smiles. He had been hoping for a girl for a long time. He returned his full attention to me. “Are you back to take your rightful position as Captain of my guard?”

“No, sire.” I nodded down to the barn. “I have brought two yearlings for your cavalry and a marbled Taynor yearling for your heavy wagons. He is striking and rather head strong and I thought you would appreciate the challenge.”

Éomer was thinking deep. “You are breeding Taynors?” He took his daughter, who was reaching for him and making nonsense noises.

“No. My wife breeds Taynors.”

Lothiriel began to squeal, a painful sound, jumping up and down. “I knew it! I knew it! I knew there was someone who caught your fancy to keep you going into the east! What took you so long?”

Éomer stared at me with a very fixed smile. “Race you, old man.”

I smiled evilly back. “Tomorrow.”

~*~

“Damn your black, Mordor soul! You married Wudurose!” There was great humor in his voice, thank you Béma.

We were in our accustomed dale, by the stream. “Aye, that I did.” I brought my own flask this time, so I would not be forced to drink Éomer’s swill. “I have respected and loved her for a long time and was pleased when I discovered the feeling was mutual.”

Éomer sat, leaning against a tree, his arms propped on his knees. One foot was jiggling angrily. “I am happy for you, old man. Truly, I am. I am happy for her, I am ecstatic for her… but…”

“But what, youngling?” It amused him I still called him that, even if he were now forty-four summers. The same age I was during The Great War.

He looked at me quizzically. “I am jealous and I should not be. I am sorry, I cannot explain it-“

“You loved her much, Éomer King. She has borne you a son that you cannot openly acknowledge and deep still in your heart, you wonder if things had been different.” I looked away from him, over the grasses of Rohan, my arms propped on my knees. “Love what you have, Éomer. Take joy that Rohan has prospered and that you have more than most men will know.” We spent several minutes, drinking from our flasks.

“My son needs a father,” he finally whispered. “A better father than I can be to him. One who will listen to him and teach him the matters of life. I have no doubt he will thrive under your hand.” He coughed discretely behind his hand. “I can think of no better foster father than you. I am glad for all of you.” He coughed again. “I still intend to care and provide for him and her. As long as I can.”

“If that is your wish. It is not necessary.”

“It is necessary,” he barked. He dropped his head as if ashamed. “It is to me.”

We spoke of small things, of little things. He was impressed with the yearlings I had brought and looked forward to more. Finally…

“How long will you stay with us? A week? A moon before you return?”

“No. I leave in the morning.”

Éomer laughed. “Missing her already?”

I smiled to myself before lifting my flask. “Well you see, we are expecting a baby…”

Fini.

Began: May 20, 2012
Finished: May 25, 2012




I'd like to say so ends this melancholy bunny... Notice, I said... I'd LIKE to say....