...His...

… His…
Chapter 08


The summer had already been wretched hot, but rains are heavy in the evenings. I watched my crops grow and speculated my trees would be heavy with fruit. Everyone said it was due to the evil being tossed from the land and Béma showering blessings on our new king. Many of the éored and garrison returned from the war by then. Oh, the stories they told. Sometimes, I would go to the tavern, simply for company and to hear them talk about their adventures. So much happened after the first rider came through. The Black Gate; the fall of Sauron and the Great Eye. A hobbit destroyed the One Ring. Gondor crowned her king and he was to marry a beautiful Elven Princess during the Summer Solstice. She was Arwen, Elrond’s daughter – the Elrond Éomer told me about who lived in Rivendell. She was rumored to be the most beautiful female born in over a thousand years and he was a renowned healer. I wondered if he could heal a broken heart.

They talked of Lady Éowyn, being badly injured; how Éomer found her on the battlefield and believed her dead. The Prince of Dol Amroth realized she was not and saved her life.

They spoke of the Prince’s daughter; his only daughter. She was beautiful and they said she spent much time with Éomer King. They speculated the King of Gondor wanted more than treaties to tie Rohan to Gondor. They said Lady Éowyn had found love with the Prince of Ithilien, also injured during the war. Perhaps, they would marry and that will be tie enough for Gondor.

Perhaps.

A younger rider assigned at Aldburg’s garrison married Edyð, Yffi’s daughter, who lived across the way that summer. They lived in attic of her father’s house, saving their gold and silver to buy a cottage of their own and some farmland. They reminded me of Irminric and myself so many years ago. They sat on the fields in the evening and planned and dreamed.

Just like we did.

I decided I had forgotten how to dream.

~*~


I recall vividly when Théoden’s funeral procession marched through Aldburg. His body was covered completely by his family and Rohan’s standard, which I was thankful for as he was dead now five moons. The entire town stood quietly at the roadside, watching. I saw men weep. Even the children were quiet, learning to pay their respect. Éomer rode at the front, looking neither left or right. The little Halfling Éomer had mocked, rode in the wagon, sobbing openly. As they went by, I fondly remembered the graciousness of that regal man for the short time I was in his presence.

Hay and feed continued to find their way to my feeding troughs.

~*~

It was early autumn and I was working in my smaller field. I was threshing wheat with Yffi’s daughter who I hired to help me. I needed help and she needed money. She chattered nonstop, talking about the house she wanted and how she wanted it set up. She was taking herbs to keep from becoming pregnant; she did not want to be birthing her first child in her father’s house. I let her babble wash over me. She was young and in love and I simply wanted to make sure enough wheat was stored for the winter. I thought about my other field, the last of the vegetables and fruit that would soon be ready. I would have to store them deep in the root cellar so they would keep longer. I was not truly listening to much of anything she said after a while.

“Wudurose! Wudurose!” Edyð was tapping me incessantly. “Are you not paying attention?” She pointed over my shoulder. As soon as I looked up, she dropped in a deep curtsey.

“I think she is preoccupied.” Éomer King’s shadow washed over me. I could see several Riders with him, standing on the roadway with their horses. Gamling held Firefoot; he nodded to me as if nothing had changed.

“I am sorry, Sire. I did not hear you.” I sunk as deeply as I could.

His hand reached to me, to lift me up from the dirt. “I will be here in Aldburg for some weeks. There is a new marshal to settle in and I want to check on everyone’s well being. He turned to Edyð. “You married Eanfrid this past summer, did you not?”

Edyð bounced up and down like an over-excited child. “Aye, Sire. Yes I did.” She calmed down from her girlishness enough to speak plainly. “Wudurose is paying me for her help so we can buy our own cottage or build one on our own land.”

Éomer looked at me, the sun behind him keeping his face in his helmet, hidden in shadows. “Aye. Wudorose’s kindness is well known. Eanfrid is a good soldier. I wish you happiness. ” He addressed me. “You are well?”

“Aye.”

He took a deep breath, as if to steady himself, to calm the both of us. “I will be by later to check on Fléotigu. With the éored back, the blacksmiths are working over time and I would ensure all the livestock will do well in the winter.”

I wondered if he was using the trip to my stable as an excuse to visit. My heart fell as I realized that before, he used no ruse; simply told me he was coming by.

~*~

As was his wont, Éomer brought food from his kitchens for us. I relished the treat, as the fare in his hall was richer than my normal plain fare. He conversed on small things, the additions to my stable, how the harvest was bearing, did I know anyone in need; supplies, food, repairs to their homes. He talked of everything but the war, Gondor, the princess of Dol Amroth.

I was relieved when he finally took me to the bed, undressed me, and made love to me tenderly through out the night.


~*~

Éomer’s visits continued nightly for over two weeks. He spoke of small things, benign things, things that mattered little. Small talk. He spoke of changing the marshal’s of the Riddermark and the new marshal of the Eastfold, Elfhelm. I would see them out and about during the day, Éomer pointing out this and that.

Food and feed continued to find their way into my bins, but I tired of games and I worried about Éomer’s anxious sleep. After many days and nights of thought, I decided to stop listening and wondering to idle gossip and find answers on my own.

I knew it would hurt.

That last night, I bathed thoroughly, washing my hair carefully and brushing it dry by the fire. I wore it up, much like I had on my wedding and perfumed my body with precious oils I kept hid for special occasions. I dressed in my best; truth be told, the dress I married in eight years before. When Éomer arrived, I fed him well, beamed and laughed at his jokes.

“Wudurose. Your smile does not reach your eyes.”

I dropped my eyes to the plate, before reaching and putting the napkin next to it. “We need to talk.”

“Aye and I have put it off.” His own napkin went to the table and he rose. Taking me by the hand, we went to the fire, where it was warmer. He took me in his arms, as if to dance, and pulled me close. “The world has changed and I am at loss at how to change it back.” I felt his lips on my forehead. “I do not know where to begin.”

I thought deeply for a moment; what I wanted against what I knew in my heart could truly not be. “We hear the Lady Éowyn was badly injured on Pelennor Fields and while at the healing halls of Minas Tirith, fell in love the with Prince of Ithilien.”

“Faramir. Aye.” He squeezed me. “Silly woman, going to war. Took the Halfling with her and no one said a word. Not a word.” He was quiet for a moment; rocking me to music only he could hear. “I found her. I thought she was dead. Others realized she was not.” He pulled me in tighter. “I almost lost her. She is the only kin I have left and now I will lose her to Gondor.”

“Is it a love-match, sire?”

He continued to rock. “We are back to that.”

“You are king, Éomer.”

“True,” he whispered, “but I prefer being just Éomer to you.”

I tucked a stray lock of silken gold behind his ear. “I will remember and cherish that always.” We looked at each other for a long time, memorizing features. “There is a rumor that that is not the only alliance Gondor wishes of Rohan.”

He clutched me tighter. “You hear many rumors.”

“I spend too many evenings in the ale house, listening to the minstrels. There is nothing they like more to sing of than battles and beautiful princesses.”

Éomer’s mouth set in a grim line. “I have agreed to nothing.”

“What do your advisors say?”

“Hrmmph!” As if that would answer my question. “They consider a marriage with Lothir-“ he cut himself off before continuing, “the princess of Dol Amroth a marvelous thing.” The fact he mentioned her by name told me he was considering it as well. “Gondor would be pleased at the marriage. It would strengthen ties further between Rohan and Gondor, not to mention Aragorn – they call him Elessar now – is happy in his marriage, so he seems to think we all need to be married.” He shook his head ruefully, starring over my head.

“What do you think?”

He studied me; much like he had that first night we were together, almost two Yule’s past. “I think I wish to tell my advisors and Elessar that another has my heart and I prefer to marry her.”

“But you have not.”

“No.” It was a pained whisper.

“Do you know why you have not?” His silence was all the answer I needed. I buried my face in his chest, hoping I would be able to control my tears. “If you wanted, you would have wed the one who holds your heart before you left for war, but you did not. Whether you waited because you wanted to make sure I was over my grief or because of the war matters little. What does matter is I am not fit to be a queen-“ He began to protest at that, but I covered his mouth with my hand. “I am a farmer, a farmer’s daughter. I have no schooling save how to look at soil and tell if it is good soil to grow things in. I am well versed in seeing when leaves are diseased or a farm animal has colic. I have no experience or learning on how to run a hall or be a chatelaine or hostess large parties. I am not of a noble house and I am not noble born. I would be an embarrassment to you.”

“You do not embarrass me.”

“Not here. But in your Golden Hall, I would.” My hands tightened on his waist, bunching his tunic in my fists. “I was never meant to be a queen. You need a queen.” I inhaled deeply, attempting to keep my voice clear. “Would she make you happy?”

There was a long silence before his whisper. “Aye.”

“Then it is decided.” I squelched down the screaming of my heart. “I do not know what you saw in me to begin with.”

A calloused finger made its way beneath my chin and lifted my face, so he saw the tears running freely down my cheeks. “When I think of Rohan, I think of beauty wild and fair, strong and passionate, with a heart that beats for others. You. Are. Rohan.” Our fate decided, he asked, “What would you have me do, my wild briar rose?”

“You have agreed to nothing? Made no promises?”

“None. I told Elessar I needed time to think.”

I smiled, grimly. “I would have you, one more night. Not as king, but as mine, Éomer.”

Of all the nights we had, that one was the most intense, most passionate. For not the first time, but the last, he took me on the fur, in front of the fireplace, the fire roaring. Again, my eyes, my hands lingered on honey skin, layered, firm muscles. His lips were everywhere, places that shocked me, the taste of him, of us, over-whelming. For the last time, I caressed marble hardness, the curve of him, the velvet head of his shaft. I lost count of how many times one pleasured the other. And when we could take no more, he carried me to the bed and showed me, we could. I fell asleep in his arms, exhausted, my hand curled around the emblem of his father’s house.

When I awoke, the food and dishes we left were cleaned, put away. Not a crumb or drop remained. My dress was lying neatly across the chest and his broach, his king’s cloak broach, lay on it, on the heart.

He left that day and I never saw him again, which was probably for the best. Deep inside, had he asked me to be his mistress, to stay, to be kept, I would have agreed. But he did not and I was glad he had not. Food for me and my livestock continued to find its way into my storage bins. A month later, the minstrels sang of his betrothal to Lothiriel, whose beauty and gentleness was sung throughout Gondor. I was determined to be happy for him and I raised my mug with the others in the alehouse.

A week later, I discovered Éomer, King of Rohan had left me with more than a hair clip, a broach, a sword, a loaned horse, and food for my table.

~*~


I was in shock. After all these years without conceiving, I finally found myself with child and nowhere to turn to. Yes, I could tell him, but why? I did not wish for him to end his betrothal. There were probably legal agreements, contracts. I did not truly wish to be his mistress. His Queen deserved all of him. A man could not split his allegiance to two countries; he could not split his love between two women. If I counted the moon cycles right, I would be due in the middle of summer. I could not stay here: everyone would know and I did not wish my child to be pointed at and whispered about.

A merchant caravan normally came to the town and stayed a week after harvest, well before winter was fully on us. They were known to travel Rohan and welcomed others who were relocating, offering companionship and safety in traveling. I spoke with their head merchant, who was happy to take me into their circle. I spoke with Edyð and Eanfrid about buying my home and smaller land. They had enough money to suit me and her father generously purchased my larger plot as gift to them. I gave them the sheep, pig and chickens and decided to bring Áblysian and the horse with me. Éomer did say she was mine if I need to run; well, I was running now, although not for the reasons he originally intended. The day before I left with the caravan, I loaded my cart up, most everything I was taking with me fitting into the two trunks I owned. I rolled up the fur rug, the memories were too sweet to leave it, as well as my feather mattress and pillows. In the attic was a cradle, belonging to Irminric, which I brought down and tucked under the rug and quilts. I also took many of the seeds I stored for planting the next year, along with several apple and pear tree saplings, in addition to my store of food for the winter.

I had a long journey, time to myself to consider my decision. The further we went from Aldburg, the longer we were gone, the more I convinced myself that what I thought I heard Éomer whisper in the night at Dunharrow…

“Mé léoflic wudurose, ic ferhþlufu ðu…

My beautiful wild rose, I love you…

…was my own fanciful dreaming and I had no right to love him.

Eventually, I settled in the east, across the Entwash near the river Andiun, south of Amon Hen, in a decent sized town with a midwife. It was cold, deep in the winter and I wearied of travel. I told them I was widowed; allowed the people to assume my husband died as a result of the war and the child I carried, his. I needed a fresh start, away from memories and pain. Thanks to the war, many homesteads were abandoned or up for barter and I obtained one that needed few repairs. It was larger than my little cottage with two fireplaces, a small room for a separate bedroom, and a ladder to yet another room under the strong oaken beams of the ceiling. Enough room for a child to live under and thrive. There was land to plant and a barn in good repair; plenty of room for Áblysian and Fléotigu. Chickens, pigs and sheep were easy to come by and as I had before, I bought several chickens and let all but a few sit, as well as two sows and a hog and a few sheep to begin. As winter fell away and my body changed and expanded, I walked the land I purchased, deciding what I would plant and where; the saplings I brought with me would grow trees, not any that would bear fruit in the near future. I would rely on the animals, wheat and vegetables I would grow for the time being.

In time, I would forget. I made small clothes and blankets, prepared for the birth of the very active babe I carried. I would raise my child and simply forget. We would be content and happy. I would make sure of it.

~*~
tbc