Hers

I motioned for Wudurose to join me and together we set off side by side. She was itching to gallop, to move quickly, but I held her back. All these years, so many questions I had, so many things I wanted, that I needed to know, be certain of. I wanted to hear them from her lips.

“Is someone watching your daughter?”

“Yes. Acha.” Wudurose stared straight ahead. “She watched Edric when he was younger, as well as her younger siblings. She has three of her own now. Can we not move any faster?”

“I would rather not.” Her head jerked in my direction. “Personally, I would rather walk on foot, crawl, anything, in order to spend more time with you.” I looked at her, smiling at her dropped jaw. “There is so much I wish to discuss and now that I have you alone, I am rather at a loss for words.” I looked forward again, scanning any possible homestead, farm, damage. “We are only going to check on the more remote homesteads. Cynegels mentioned scorched fields.”

“That should not be a problem.” Was it me or was her voice suddenly husky? “Harvest is over. Scorching will only aid in fertilizing.” Her eyes continued to focus ahead. “Did… Cynegels?… mention any damages to homes?”

I could hear the wariness in her voice, the worry. I knew Wudurose; she would appreciate the truth. “Aye. He stated there were buildings defaced. They attempted to burn one, but the wood was wet, so it did not burn.” She sighed in relief. “The roof of one home, however, did not fare well.”

She looked at me, eyebrows knitted together. “Roof?”

“Thatched.”

“Ah, but the house-”

“We will see.” The town was now well behind us and I desired to talk at length with her. But where to start…

“How is Gamling?” Wudurose blurted, interrupting my thoughts. “I was unable to get back in time when the healer went to him.” Again, the guardedness and concern had returned to her voice. “I knew he wanted the farms checked; he said so just before you arrived the last time he was awake.”

Again, I knew she would appreciate complete honesty. “’Tis an ugly, ugly wound, Wudurose. I have seen men die of less.” Her breath hitched. “He is lucky it was placed high, into the flesh of his shoulder. Much lower, he would be dead.” I coaxed my horse closer to hers. “He might lose use of his arm; it might weaken his arm. I do not know. It is a worrisome injury, one he will be hard-pressed to allow you to tend to. You will need to tend to it.”

“I plan on it.” With this statement, her voice was bold, an edginess to it. I remember it plainly; she used it on me once, the night before the Rohirrim rode to Gondor, when I behaved like a child and she treated me as such. The memory made me smile.

“Why do you smirk?”

I grinned harder. “A memory of you.” Her eyebrow arched. “It is not often I allow myself to ponder on the past.”

“No?”

“No. I find it…grievous.”

There was no sound for some long, awful seconds. “I am sorry.”

An apology was the last thing I expected to hear from her. “Why? I am the one who is sorry. Because of me, you ran. Because of me, you have raised our son alone. Because of me-”

“I learned to love again,” she completed softly. “Because of you, I learned there was life after Irminric. Because of you, I have a son who gave me hope when all was bleak and I was alone. Because of you, I have more,” and with this she slung her arm out, encompassing a huge fenced field we were passing, “than I ever dreamed of. Because of you, I met and am married to a man who made every possible dream I ever gave up on come true. I am sorry you hurt. I hurt as well, if it makes you feel better. I grieved the loss of you for many years! MANY YEARS! Every time I look on my son’s face, whether he is happy, or sad, or Béma forbid, angry, I see you! I am openly reminded every single moment of the day of you. I find joy and peace in those memories, rather than pain. Perhaps rather than focus on the pain of our separating and the failure of our love, you should best focus on the wonderful things that were of a result of it.”

I stopped my horse, looking at her in wonder and horror, I imagine. It took a few moments for her to realize I was no longer moving before she turned around and faced me. “What?”

“Our love did NOT fail! There was no failure in what we had!” My temper was raised and things… things I had buried, things I had hid, flew forth like the sudden thunderstorm my temper had often been compared to. I had often speculated on things, reasons. Gamling had speculated as well, telling me what he thought, never what she told him. “Why did you leave? Why did you run? Why in all of Rohan and Béma’s green earth did you hide my son from me?” I slung my reins over the pommel of Firestorm’s saddle and dismounted. In unchecked fury, I slung my finger, pointing to the dirt in front of me, all but ordering her to dismount as well. “What gave you the right to hide my son from me? He is mine, too, as you well know!”

As quickly as my temper rose, so did hers. I have seen Wudurose’s temper; never aimed at me, truthfully it was always aimed at a little bitter bitch who lived in Aldburg. It was a fearsome thing and one I always joked privately years ago that would level even the staunchest of men. She dismounted as well, tying her reins, her mouth in a thin, white line. “I had every right! You married, remember?”

“Only at your behest!”

“My behest?” Oh, she was angry. I should have backed down, however I was too caught up in our argument. “As I recall, you were newly made king and Gondor wanted ties to Rohan!”

“They had ties with Éowyn and Faramir!”

“It was not enough!” she yelled back. “Your advisers and the King of Gondor-”

“I did not give a tinker's damn what my advisers or what Aragorn wanted!” We were now standing a hand width apart, me towering over her. Looking back, to my dying day, I would pray to Béma that no one was near us, could hear our rather spirited, loud discussion. My finger was in her face. “I did not give one whit of a damn what Aragorn or my advisers wanted! I was king, aye, but I wanted you! All you had to do was say it. All you had to do was ask.”

“Ask?” Wudurose’s voice was just as raised as mine. “Ask for what? To be your mistress? To be your queen?” Her voice was full of sarcasm and rebuke.

“Aye, my queen! I would have had you for my queen!”

“Éomer!” She stepped back and spread her hands. “I am queen! I am queen of all of this!” She gestured to the surrounding countryside, the smell of smoke lingering in the air. “Why would I want to be queen of a huge hall, a town crowded with people, with air one cannot breathe?”

I stepped towards her, narrowing the gap. “You would have been my queen.”

“We have had this discussion, Éomer!” Her finger was now in my face. “I would be an embarrassment to you! I have no idea how to run a hall, how to-”

“You would have learned!”

“I would have been miserable!” She glared up at me. “I would have been-”

Truly, I did it without thinking, without any thought. It was a simple reaction. I reached forward, grabbed her by her elbow, pulled her to me and kissed her.