Part 127 of the Elfwine Chronicles. The Elfwine Chronicles are a series of one-shots built around the family group of Eomer, Lothiriel and Elfwine. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes.

A/N: What has gotten into me lately that I'm so prolific? Oh well, I suppose I should just enjoy it and "go with the flow"!

For the most part, references in this story are to "Two Step", though there is a tiny bit from "New Life".

Envy

(September, 12 IV)

In times of war, there are usually three types of men with regard to women. Some will seek casual pleasure with any woman who will welcome them into their bed, preferring to keep the encounter brief and largely anonymous. The second group will marry in haste, wanting something more than mere pleasure-seeking, but they do not generally have the time needed to truly get to know the woman before they make her their bride. They enjoy a few moments comfort and then they ride back to battle, not knowing if they will ever see her again.

The last group are those who want a family, but who do not wish to subject any woman to the vagaries of their life – not knowing when they will be able to come home for a visit, not knowing if they even will return or how wounded they might be if they do, not knowing if they are leaving the woman with child and destined to be a widow.

While I do not fit in either of the first two groups, I am not sure that I entirely fit in the latter either. War has been my occupation since I was old enough to join an eored. There were women who would provide bodily comfort, in the various towns where we sometimes stopped for a night, but casual liaisons had never appealed to me. And, in truth, my mind was too focused on the enemy and our dire circumstances to allow myself such distraction. Eomer likely had his own reasons for similarly forgoing such company, though we never discussed what they might be. As a result, long, lonely, cold nights were generally spent in companionable silence or infrequent conversation between the two of us.

We both missed our homes, and were sorry that we got to spend so little time there. We both longed to one day have a family and hearth to welcome us back from patrol. But life in the Third Age was too uncertain for us to have much expectation that we would ever see that day.

When at length the war was won and Sauron's evil defeated, Eomer found himself named king of the Riddermark, and he chose to continue to have me at his side. We had become such true friends over the years, that I could not imagine myself being anywhere else, and so I readily accepted his charge to be responsible for the king's guard, and protection of Edoras and the surrounding king's lands.

It did not take very long for Eomer to find a lady who completely captured his heart. Lothiriel of Dol Amroth was a marvel, even to my eyes. Despite her royal birth, she was real and…substantial. Too many ladies of the nobility seemed to have nary an intelligent thought in their pretty little heads, and I could never envision Eomer married to such a woman. Lothiriel was fire and passion, kindness and humor, strength and compassion. I liked her almost from the moment we were first introduced, and I felt great satisfaction when Eomer made her his queen.

Over the ensuing years, I watched Eomer struggle as he tried to settle into his role as king. Lothiriel was beside him every step of the way, understanding the demands of the monarchy but, more importantly, understanding how the restrictions chafed at her husband's nature. I truly believe she kept him from going mad when it all became too much to bear.

And then she gave the greatest of gifts – to Eomer and to the Riddermark – a son and heir. Elfwine was a fine, healthy baby and he grew into a fine, exceptional young man. When Eomer had to be absent, I was called upon to fill the void, and I could not have been more attached to the lad than if he were my own son.

Watching the little family together, I was envious. I had spent my life alone, and I was no longer convinced there might be a woman who would have me, that I might know their joyous happiness also, that I might have a son of my own. What would any woman find desirable in a rough soldier such as I was?

And then one day, the queen acquired a new companion. Zimraphel's family had all passed on, and she was eager to leave behind the painful memories to be found in Gondor. In many ways, it was astonishing that so timid and shy a woman would have the courage to move so very far from all she had ever known to serve a foreign queen. But perhaps that was only possible because of Lothiriel. She knew Gondor and she understood people; she kept a watchful eye over Zimraphel, easing the transition for her as much as possible.

It was on the journey back to Rohan that I became aware of Zimraphel. I was drawn to her instantly, and whenever I was in her company, I could not resist teasing her until I had elicited that becoming blush that was so much a part of her. Not that it was difficult to accomplish, for it almost seemed anything I said caused it. Lothiriel pretended annoyance with me, and chastized me regularly for harrassing the girl so, but somehow I knew that Zimraphel did not mind my attentions to her, nor wish me to stop.

Perhaps between the two of us, we might never have gotten beyond that had I not been injured on a hunting trip. While standing by my bedside, she overcame her shyness long enough to press a concerned kiss to my cheek. Suddenly I felt a light-headedness that had nothing to do with my physical condition. My stomach lurched at her touch, and I wanted nothing more than to claim those luscious lips with my own. Later, when the opportunity presented itself, I did just that.

After that, our feelings seemed to unfold like a flower in the sunshine. She filled my being with a joy so inexpressable, I could scarce catch my breath at times. I found every excuse to be in her company, and she did not seem to mind in the slightest. Even so, when I at length screwed up my courage enough and decided to make her my wife, I was not certain how Lothiriel would react. I had no doubt that the queen approved of me as Eomer's friend, and even liked me personally, but I did not think she was eager to find a new maidservant and perhaps would not consider me worthy of the girl.

I worried for nothing, it turned out. When I broached the subject to Lothiriel, she mocked my reticence, and then assured me of her approbation in the matter. I could never repay her kindnesses toward Zimraphel in seeing that she had a memorable wedding day.

And then I found myself with a bride at the advanced age of thirty-eight years. She was nervous and shy, and I felt like a great, blundering fool far too often, but eventually we were able to settle comfortably into our new life together. I had long envied Eomer for the happiness he had, but now I believe I have found the same for myself. When my beloved wife told me we were to have a child, my joy was complete. No longer did I need to watch the royal couple with envious eyes. I had the same thing under my own roof. Life was indeed good.

THE END

2/13/07

End note: It is best that you read the Elfwine Chronicles in the order they were written. The more of them that I wrote, the more likely I was to make reference to one of the previous ones and something that happened there. If you want to read them in order, go to the top of this page and click on my name (Deandra). That will take you to my profile page. Scroll down and you will find all the stories I have written. The Elfwine Chronicles are in order from bottom to top since ffn shows them in the order they were posted. A few were posted out of number order, but you can read them in posting order or number order since those few won't be affected in the story content.