A/N: Hello! I wrote this on an airplane, because I was bored. The first
part might look like it was stolen straight from the book, but it's the
only way I could imagine it I guess. Please read and review, hope you like
it! All belongs to Prof. Tolkein.
The Marshal dismounted from his horse, and looked upon his dying king, whom he had loved as a father. Théoden King opened his eyes ever so slowly, and the banner of the Mark was passed to Éomer, son of Éomund, now King of Rohan.
"Hail, King of the Mark! Ride now to victory!" Théoden said, and so he died, with all the honor and glory of his forefathers.
Éomer heard his men behind him crying "Théoden King! Théoden King!", but he remained silent. King of the Mark; it hit him like a blow in the face. This was not his destiny; it had been his cousin's, who now lay dead in his mound, never to be seen again in the world of Men. Éomer was a follower, a loyal soldier, who would serve his Lord until death. Blinking back tears, he called to his men;
"Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen, meet was his ending. When his mound is raised, women then shall weep, war now calls us!"
Éomer turned to observe the scene before him. Men he knew and cared about were being slaughtered, and there was nothing he could do about it. As he turned to mount Firefoot, he saw his sister, lying as still as death next to his uncle. He fell to his knees, and said nothing. He had lost everything. There was no reason to live anymore, save to kill as many orcs as he could before they cut him down. 'Let them kill me, I care not' Éomer thought bitterly as he turned his steed back to the battle, laughing as he killed.
Éomer stood on the Citadel of Minas Tirith, watching Aragorn being crowned as the King of Gondor and Arnor, and thought of his own newly acquired kingship. It was something he never wanted, but he would accept the crown anyway, he could not refuse. He was unwed, and had no children to speak of. His only family now was Éowyn, and he suspected that she would be leaving him soon also, to be with Faramir.
Éomer stepped forward to greet the new King of Gondor, swearing his undying friendship and allegiance with him. 'Now I really sound like a King' he thought with remorse.
Several nights later, Éomer found he could not sleep. He dressed, and made his way to the stables. Firefoot was in his stall, as restless as his owner. Éomer approached the stall, patting his horse in greeting.
"Do you want to get out old friend?" Éomer asked the grey, who whickered his agreement. "So do I." replied Éomer, leading Firefoot out of his stall, not bothering with bit or bridle.
Once they were outside the city gates, Éomer urged his stallion to a full gallop across the pelennor, not caring where they went. Firefoot, deprived of a good run for several days, obeyed his master's command willingly. Like any horseman, he loved the freedom of riding, just him and his horse. Finally, he slowed the stallion to a walk, observing the landscape before him
The ground was still dented and marred from the great battle that had taken place. In the distance, towards the east, Éomer could see a large black spot on the earth, with a small mound next to it. This marked the spot where the Fell Beast of the Nazgul was burned, and where the king's mount Snowmane was buried. That was the spot where Théoden fell, where Éomer had found Éowyn, believing her dead. A part of him said to ride over there, but he thought the time was not right. He would return to that spot later, when the memories weren't so fresh in his mind. Éomer sighed, remounted Firefoot, and rode back into the city.
2 Months Later
The funeral Escort of Théoden King had finally arrived at Edoras, where he was laid to rest in no less honor the kings before him. As they lay Théoden in his mound, Éomer thought of their past life together, how his uncle had taken Éomer and his sister in after their parents had died. He pondered the future as well; Would he take a wife? Would he have children? He shook his head of these thoughts, proclaiming it too soon. Finally, the funeral ended, and the party moved to the Golden Hall.
Once inside, the bard Gléowine sang a lament to the Kings of Rohan, starting with Eorl the Young and ending with Théoden. Éowyn bore a cup to the new King, who drained when Théoden's name was sung. After Gléowine had finished, everyone rose and hailed Éomer as the new King of Rohan. At that moment, the reality truly set in; Éomer was no longer the 'lowly' Third Marshal, dwelling at Aldburg in the Eastfold. His job was no longer to hunt down orcs, but to run an entire country, something he never thought he would do. As Éomer stepped forward to announce the betrothal of Faramir and Éowyn, he realized something else. Éowyn would be leaving him for Emyn Arnen, and he would truly be alone. Meduseld would feel very empty without her, though it was seldom anything but that. As sad as he was to see her go, it made Éomer immensely happy to see such joy in his sister's face, and wished her luck in her marriage.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the party was over, and all the guests retired to bed. Éomer remained in the hall however, denied of sleep. He sat on a bench by the fire, looking down at the crown in his hands. He liked neither the look nor feel of it, he was not one for lordly finery. Sighing, he decided to go for a walk, taking the golden crown with him.
He walked all the way to the bottom of Edoras, to the mounds of the kings and their kin. Near the end of the second row was the grave of his cousin, Théodred. He stood before the mound of the man he had loved like a brother, the one who should be wearing the crown in Éomer's hand. Éomer knelt there for a while, memories flooding back to him, finally resting on the memory of Théodred's funeral, of Éowyn singing the song of mourning...
"Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended
giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende
on Meduselde þæt he ma no wære
his dryhtne dyrest and mæga deorost."
"An evil death has set forth the noble warrior
A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels
in Meduseld that he is no more,
to his lord dearest and kinsmen most beloved."
Sighing, Éomer took the crown and placed it on the earth in front of Théodred's mound, letting the green grass engulf it. Éomer rose and said "Take this brother, it is rightfully yours." And turned back towards Meduseld, where he reigned for many happy years.
A/N- How was that? Ok, if you people don't know already, the answers to Éomer's questions (Will he get married or have kids?) are yes and yes, most of us Tolkien fans know that in the last year of the third age, our beloved King married Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, and they had one kid, Elfwine. Hell, why am I repeating this to you? I have no clue. So, do me a favor and click that nice shiny button and review ok? Hannon le.
The Marshal dismounted from his horse, and looked upon his dying king, whom he had loved as a father. Théoden King opened his eyes ever so slowly, and the banner of the Mark was passed to Éomer, son of Éomund, now King of Rohan.
"Hail, King of the Mark! Ride now to victory!" Théoden said, and so he died, with all the honor and glory of his forefathers.
Éomer heard his men behind him crying "Théoden King! Théoden King!", but he remained silent. King of the Mark; it hit him like a blow in the face. This was not his destiny; it had been his cousin's, who now lay dead in his mound, never to be seen again in the world of Men. Éomer was a follower, a loyal soldier, who would serve his Lord until death. Blinking back tears, he called to his men;
"Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen, meet was his ending. When his mound is raised, women then shall weep, war now calls us!"
Éomer turned to observe the scene before him. Men he knew and cared about were being slaughtered, and there was nothing he could do about it. As he turned to mount Firefoot, he saw his sister, lying as still as death next to his uncle. He fell to his knees, and said nothing. He had lost everything. There was no reason to live anymore, save to kill as many orcs as he could before they cut him down. 'Let them kill me, I care not' Éomer thought bitterly as he turned his steed back to the battle, laughing as he killed.
Éomer stood on the Citadel of Minas Tirith, watching Aragorn being crowned as the King of Gondor and Arnor, and thought of his own newly acquired kingship. It was something he never wanted, but he would accept the crown anyway, he could not refuse. He was unwed, and had no children to speak of. His only family now was Éowyn, and he suspected that she would be leaving him soon also, to be with Faramir.
Éomer stepped forward to greet the new King of Gondor, swearing his undying friendship and allegiance with him. 'Now I really sound like a King' he thought with remorse.
Several nights later, Éomer found he could not sleep. He dressed, and made his way to the stables. Firefoot was in his stall, as restless as his owner. Éomer approached the stall, patting his horse in greeting.
"Do you want to get out old friend?" Éomer asked the grey, who whickered his agreement. "So do I." replied Éomer, leading Firefoot out of his stall, not bothering with bit or bridle.
Once they were outside the city gates, Éomer urged his stallion to a full gallop across the pelennor, not caring where they went. Firefoot, deprived of a good run for several days, obeyed his master's command willingly. Like any horseman, he loved the freedom of riding, just him and his horse. Finally, he slowed the stallion to a walk, observing the landscape before him
The ground was still dented and marred from the great battle that had taken place. In the distance, towards the east, Éomer could see a large black spot on the earth, with a small mound next to it. This marked the spot where the Fell Beast of the Nazgul was burned, and where the king's mount Snowmane was buried. That was the spot where Théoden fell, where Éomer had found Éowyn, believing her dead. A part of him said to ride over there, but he thought the time was not right. He would return to that spot later, when the memories weren't so fresh in his mind. Éomer sighed, remounted Firefoot, and rode back into the city.
2 Months Later
The funeral Escort of Théoden King had finally arrived at Edoras, where he was laid to rest in no less honor the kings before him. As they lay Théoden in his mound, Éomer thought of their past life together, how his uncle had taken Éomer and his sister in after their parents had died. He pondered the future as well; Would he take a wife? Would he have children? He shook his head of these thoughts, proclaiming it too soon. Finally, the funeral ended, and the party moved to the Golden Hall.
Once inside, the bard Gléowine sang a lament to the Kings of Rohan, starting with Eorl the Young and ending with Théoden. Éowyn bore a cup to the new King, who drained when Théoden's name was sung. After Gléowine had finished, everyone rose and hailed Éomer as the new King of Rohan. At that moment, the reality truly set in; Éomer was no longer the 'lowly' Third Marshal, dwelling at Aldburg in the Eastfold. His job was no longer to hunt down orcs, but to run an entire country, something he never thought he would do. As Éomer stepped forward to announce the betrothal of Faramir and Éowyn, he realized something else. Éowyn would be leaving him for Emyn Arnen, and he would truly be alone. Meduseld would feel very empty without her, though it was seldom anything but that. As sad as he was to see her go, it made Éomer immensely happy to see such joy in his sister's face, and wished her luck in her marriage.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the party was over, and all the guests retired to bed. Éomer remained in the hall however, denied of sleep. He sat on a bench by the fire, looking down at the crown in his hands. He liked neither the look nor feel of it, he was not one for lordly finery. Sighing, he decided to go for a walk, taking the golden crown with him.
He walked all the way to the bottom of Edoras, to the mounds of the kings and their kin. Near the end of the second row was the grave of his cousin, Théodred. He stood before the mound of the man he had loved like a brother, the one who should be wearing the crown in Éomer's hand. Éomer knelt there for a while, memories flooding back to him, finally resting on the memory of Théodred's funeral, of Éowyn singing the song of mourning...
"Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended
giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende
on Meduselde þæt he ma no wære
his dryhtne dyrest and mæga deorost."
"An evil death has set forth the noble warrior
A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels
in Meduseld that he is no more,
to his lord dearest and kinsmen most beloved."
Sighing, Éomer took the crown and placed it on the earth in front of Théodred's mound, letting the green grass engulf it. Éomer rose and said "Take this brother, it is rightfully yours." And turned back towards Meduseld, where he reigned for many happy years.
A/N- How was that? Ok, if you people don't know already, the answers to Éomer's questions (Will he get married or have kids?) are yes and yes, most of us Tolkien fans know that in the last year of the third age, our beloved King married Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, and they had one kid, Elfwine. Hell, why am I repeating this to you? I have no clue. So, do me a favor and click that nice shiny button and review ok? Hannon le.