Wherein Éomer Learns a Thing or Two About Gardening | Whereby Fertilizer is Procured | Wherefore the Lady Demands Twine | Whereupon the Lord Sees the Plan Unfold
Wherein Éomer Learns a Thing or Two About Gardening
King Éomer stood at the gate of the garden of the southern slopes of Meduseld, aghast at the sight before him. Everywhere he looked, the earth had been dug up, giving one the impression that a pack of wild dogs had recently passed through. After a long day training new colts and fillies and soldiers alike, this was not what he wanted to come back to! He had been assured that his lady-wife was fair with a trowel; he had seen for himself the work she had purportedly done at the castle of Dol Amroth. He stomped through the "garden" toward the door into the Royal Apartment of Meduseld, which he slammed shut behind him, and made his way to the Queen's Solar.
His wife looked astonished to see him in such a state. From her wide eyes fixed on him over a raised up of tea, to the paper slipping from her hand, she was the perfect study of surprise. She set her cup down with a neat clink of glass. Smiling, she said, "Good evening, my lord."
"How can you sit there like everything is as it should be?" he responded, keeping a steady voice. "How can you sit there all calm and collected when the garden is a mess?"
Lothíriel blinked once and replied, "It was all I could get done today." She lifted the teacup back to her lips before continuing, "It will be another day or so before I can shake to dirt out of those clumps."
Éomer flopped down on a chair opposite her. She frowned when she saw dust and dirt being tracked behind him.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" he asked her.
"I beg your pardon?" she shot back.
"Who in their right mind would go and dig up that magnificent garden? Those roses were put in over one hundred years ago! I thought they said you knew your way around a spade."
"Let me tell you something," she said sharply, pointing a short-nailed finger at his chest and leaning forward, "That magnificent garden was overrun by grass and weeds, those roses were taken out last year, and anyone who knows anything about gardening will tell you that I'm one of the best." Lothíriel leaned back with a defiant glint in her eyes.
Éomer also leaned back, considering this woman recently come into his life. Slightly plump yet shapely, fair skin with a touch of sun (especially on her upper cheeks and the bridge of her nose, giving the look of a permanent blush), black hair gathered lazily into a bun (where were her attendants?), and intelligent grey eyes. If her looks hadn't tantalized him, then her wit and personality certainly would have. This woman, even eight years his junior, got him every single time.
"So," he said, not backing down from the challenge, "if I were to ask any one of the previous gardeners, they would tell me you were in the right to destroy the garden?"
"I'd wager they'd tell you I was right to start by turning the earth." She raised an eyebrow and sipped her tea.
"If I were a wagering man…" he said, making for the door.
"The loser must scrub the dirt off the winner's feet," she said. "I like to walk about a garden barefoot when the day is done," she added devilishly.
And so it was that Éomer begrudgingly sat before the small washtub of hot water, being told to get between the toes of dainty little feet belonging to his lady-wife.
Whereby Fertilizer is Procured
"The season is quite dry," Lothíriel mused aloud to the lady-in-waiting who offered assistance for the garden.
"No, this is how the spring usually starts, my lady," Lady Hliehhan said. They were both resting, sheltered under a gable's shadow from the midday sun. The dirt was looking rather dusty, even after just one day. "Might I make a suggestion, my lady?"
Lothíriel looked around, and then said, "Are you talking to me?"
Lady Hliehhan looked confused. "You are the only other person here."
"Oh, alright. I thought there might be someone else here who had insisted on titles being used," Lothíriel teased. She grinned to make sure her meaning was understood, and was happy when the grin was returned.
Hliehhan said, "There is a good deal of manure from the stables and the barns in this area. I've always used it for the gardens at our family's residence in Edoras. I believe some of the children run a compost."
"Children composting manure? Goodness gracious!"
"There are many orphans my la- oops, sorry. There are many orphans, and they make money by collecting the shi-er … droppings which adults are less willing to handle. Recently, pigeon droppings have been added to the compost, and I hear that it's been doing wonders for the vegetable gardens."
"Is that so?" Lothíriel said. She looked again at the fast-drying soil before turning to her companion. "I think we should pay a visit to the compost, but after we've taken some refreshment."
Lothíriel estimated that the garden would require well over two-hundred pounds of premium compost. Before she went, she sectioned off a corner where she would keep a compost pile going through the year. When she visited the pile kept by the children, she enlisted their help to carry the lode all the way up to the gardens. Some of the children stayed on to help her spread the fertilizer around, giggling and laughing as they did so – although Lothiriel drew the line at flinging the composted manure at one another. The entire compost that the children bought didn't cover the entire garden, but she paid them at the end of the day … and felt that it wasn't enough. With a sudden flash of inspiration, she called for washbuckets to be brought out and food to be prepared.
And so it was that Éomer was greeted by a much neater – albeit smellier – garden, and the sight of the Golden Hall of Meduseld teaming with children and their laughter.
Wherefore the Lady Demands Twine
Lothíriel frowned, hands on her hips, as she stood back to consider the newly-planted roses. After Éomer's fit over the missing roses, she decided to placate him by making them a priority. Unfortunately, this rose was proving quite unruly. She had found a garden which boasted all colors and shapes and scents of roses, and asked the family for a mere cutting or two. She had not expected to receive three whole bushes!
Two had taken nicely to the fence, now beginning to show new growth and buds while framing the gate to the garden in a very pleasing way. But this last rose … what a nuisance! It had destroyed a trellis in one sennight, and now spilled over into a spot Lothíriel had wanted for mullein. She quit the garden for the midday meal, considering her options. It became clear that she had to take drastic measures: she was declaring war on the rosebush.
After her meal, she asked around for a hammer, some nails, and some bits of wood. Although puzzled, a workman from the stables said he was glad to be of service, but the lady insisted she do her work herself. She found some pieces of wood, and disappeared into the Royal Apartments. Into the late afternoon, the sound of hammering could be heard from the garden.
Lothíriel Queen and Éomer King took their supper together in the hall, with many of the soldiers and their families present. The King stood to give a few words, saying, "Friends, Kinsmen, the hunt has been good to us, and now we may enjoy the fruits of our labor!"
Pheasants were brought out, roasted in all different sauces and stuffed with all different stuffings. Before a servant took a knife to the twine on the pheasant nearest the royal couple, Lothíriel cried out. Many heads turned, and she said, "Please, could you save the whole strand? I have a use for it."
And so it was that Éomer King went out into the garden after dark with his lady-wife, holding thorned rose branches in place while Lothíriel Queen secured them with sauce-laden twine to newly-placed planks of wood.
Whereupon the Lord Sees the Plan Unfold
Éomer stood at the gate of the garden, looking upon a very different sight than the one which greeted him not more than a fortnight before. To his left and right were fragrant pale-yellow roses, and before him stretched a path of stepping stones neatly placed. The soil still smelt faintly of manure – and sometimes his wife did too – but the garden was beginning to look more and more like a real garden. In one part of the garden, large planks of wood had been positioned so as to make a terrace-effect. Just beyond, little saplings were swayed by the breeze. As he walked up the path, he saw his wife dozing on the threshold of the entryway to the Royal Apartments. Her face and dress were smudged with dirt; her feet were bare and dirty; a trowel had slipped from her hands; a pallet of potted plants stood off to the side. And the woman looked adorable. Éomer felt a smile growing on his face.
He stooped down and gathered her in his arms, making sure that one of her arms draped around his neck. She was still sweaty and quite a bit more filthy than he realized at first. Lothíriel shifted in his arms as he walked through the door and shut it behind him.
"Good evening, my lord," she said in a sleepy voice. He kissed her forehead. "Is it suppertime?"
"Supper can wait," he said simply, catching a look of mischief in her face.
Author's Note: So I've really been wanting to jump on the Éomer/Lothíriel bandwagon for a long time, and my first story didn't seem like enough. So now the community shall endure my silliness. Behold! A small series containing vignettes centered on gardening. There seems to be a popular trope of making Lothiriel into a gardener, so I have decided to wield it, having a mother and grandmother, and aunts upon aunts, who love to garden; I am frequently drafted into working in gardens. This was inspired the other day when such a thing happened. I'd love to hear back from those of you reading this - especially if you're a gardener (even on accident). I have the mini-series planned out, and I guess there are a lot of wonderful stories on this site that have inspired me to do this to you.