Pointless A/N- Okay, so this story was inspired by human growth and
development. I was sitting in class and my professor was talking about what
might kill an infant and I all of a sudden thought, "Ooh! Wouldn't that be
a fun story to write?" Yes, I am morbid and messed up. Anyway, I started
this story at least four times before I finally decided how to start. It
jumps around a lot, so bare with me here people. Also, if it sucks I'm
sorry. It's just a way to satisfy the voices in my head, and I thought it
would be a different idea, and a little darker than my normal fics (I hope
it will be anyway). So I hope you enjoy! Review! Feel free to tell me how
horrible this story is! Or if by some odd chance you actually like it, tell
me that too! That's how you get more chapters :-P
Disclaimer- I don't own Eomer, Lothiriel, or anyone else really. Well, except for a few minor characters..... and Theomund I guess..... would he be considered minor? He is a minor. Whatever, you know what's not mine! Anyway, I promise that I'll return them to the states I found all the characters in once I'm done.... sort of..... mwahahahahaha!
And now, enough out of me! Here's the story!
Dust in the Wind
The wet earth pounded beneath Eomer's feet and echoed in his ears. He gripped the spear in his hands as he ran after his pray. He stopped a moment, his heart pounding, he scanned the forest for any sign of what eluded him. His breath came heavily and he fought to keep the sound of his rasping attempts to draw air into his lungs under control. He saw no sign of the animal, so he continued to run. It was an unusual sight to see a man of the Mark hunting on foot, much less the King. But Eomer was not simply running after a pray, it was almost as if he was running from something, and did not want to wear his horse ragged, but wanted to make himself so weary he would forget.
He would forget his son. His poor child, now lying cold with so many he had loved before.
No, no, better not to think of that. Just run, yes, running. A simple means of escape, getting away, being free. Focus on the sound of the earth beneath your feet Eomer, much better to think of that.
The King continued to run, despite his desperate need for a drink and rest. He ignored the burning protests of his muscles as he continued on his dash across the land of Rohan. His advisors had tried to stop him from leaving the city, telling him that it was too dangerous. Suppose he was attacked? Especially with the babe dead! Eomer had promptly clipped the offending advisor in the jaw. How dare he speak of the dead so casually? What right did he have to speak of his son? Eomer wished someone would attack. Then he would have an excuse to rip the head off of the offender, somewhere to focus his emotions and to channel the rage he felt building up inside.
How could such happiness have turned into such sadness? Images of the cold, tiny body of his firstborn crept into his mind. His child, his son. He could still see his wife, his dear Lothiriel, shaking the cold body in the cradle uncomprehending, unable to accept the truth.
"Why is he so cold Eomer?" Her question echoed in his mind, over and over again, driving him to madness.
He took a shuddering breath and suddenly threw the spear as hard as he could, letting out a cry that shook the surrounding countryside as it echoed his rage.
He dropped to his knees in the wet earth, mud splattering his clothes as sweat dripped from his brow. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and let out a soft whisper, the last time the name would ever cross his lips.
"Theomund....."
* * * * * * * * * * *
A/N: Well, there's the first chapter. Sorry it's so short.... but that's all you get until I write two pages on my research paper! It will jump around a lot I think. I'm actually posting as I write so this one will go up a WHOLE lot slower than my last story! I just wanted to post this now to hear what you guys think! So in other words, please review!
Also note that this is not about Elfwine. I wouldn't have killed him. But that doesn't stop me from killing his older brother. Mwahahahahaha! I'm horrible I know.
Disclaimer- I don't own Eomer, Lothiriel, or anyone else really. Well, except for a few minor characters..... and Theomund I guess..... would he be considered minor? He is a minor. Whatever, you know what's not mine! Anyway, I promise that I'll return them to the states I found all the characters in once I'm done.... sort of..... mwahahahahaha!
And now, enough out of me! Here's the story!
Dust in the Wind
The wet earth pounded beneath Eomer's feet and echoed in his ears. He gripped the spear in his hands as he ran after his pray. He stopped a moment, his heart pounding, he scanned the forest for any sign of what eluded him. His breath came heavily and he fought to keep the sound of his rasping attempts to draw air into his lungs under control. He saw no sign of the animal, so he continued to run. It was an unusual sight to see a man of the Mark hunting on foot, much less the King. But Eomer was not simply running after a pray, it was almost as if he was running from something, and did not want to wear his horse ragged, but wanted to make himself so weary he would forget.
He would forget his son. His poor child, now lying cold with so many he had loved before.
No, no, better not to think of that. Just run, yes, running. A simple means of escape, getting away, being free. Focus on the sound of the earth beneath your feet Eomer, much better to think of that.
The King continued to run, despite his desperate need for a drink and rest. He ignored the burning protests of his muscles as he continued on his dash across the land of Rohan. His advisors had tried to stop him from leaving the city, telling him that it was too dangerous. Suppose he was attacked? Especially with the babe dead! Eomer had promptly clipped the offending advisor in the jaw. How dare he speak of the dead so casually? What right did he have to speak of his son? Eomer wished someone would attack. Then he would have an excuse to rip the head off of the offender, somewhere to focus his emotions and to channel the rage he felt building up inside.
How could such happiness have turned into such sadness? Images of the cold, tiny body of his firstborn crept into his mind. His child, his son. He could still see his wife, his dear Lothiriel, shaking the cold body in the cradle uncomprehending, unable to accept the truth.
"Why is he so cold Eomer?" Her question echoed in his mind, over and over again, driving him to madness.
He took a shuddering breath and suddenly threw the spear as hard as he could, letting out a cry that shook the surrounding countryside as it echoed his rage.
He dropped to his knees in the wet earth, mud splattering his clothes as sweat dripped from his brow. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and let out a soft whisper, the last time the name would ever cross his lips.
"Theomund....."
* * * * * * * * * * *
A/N: Well, there's the first chapter. Sorry it's so short.... but that's all you get until I write two pages on my research paper! It will jump around a lot I think. I'm actually posting as I write so this one will go up a WHOLE lot slower than my last story! I just wanted to post this now to hear what you guys think! So in other words, please review!
Also note that this is not about Elfwine. I wouldn't have killed him. But that doesn't stop me from killing his older brother. Mwahahahahaha! I'm horrible I know.