"Éowyn!" The king's voice boomed through the great hall. "Éowyn, have you seen your brother?"
Éowyn, Éomer's fourteen year old sister, had just entered the hall together with her cousin Théodred, the king's son.
"No, uncle. I have not seen him – since this morning, I believe." Éowyn shared a look with her cousin.
Théoden turned to his son: "And you have not seen your brother in mischief, either, my son?"
"I have, but not in a while – why, father?" Théodred asked innocently.
"Because it has come to my knowledge that your cousin has been quite elusive recently, evading some of his training, and I know that he has not been present for the more formal occasions, either. Whatever is the matter with him, Théodred?" The king looked annoyed.
"He is only eighteen, father. It is probably nothing, and as far as I know Éothain and he have been keeping company much lately. They are probably up to no good, which is nothing out of the ordinary." Théodred searched his mind frantically to find an excuse for his younger cousin and gestured silently to Éowyn to get help from her.
Éowyn looked innocently at her uncle, "Uncle, I am sure that it is that he has just forgot, if it really is so that Éothain and he have been otherwise occupied."
Théoden King looked sternly at his son and heir and his niece. "Hmm," he said, "I am not certain that I can believe a word of what either of you are saying; you are probably protecting the brat – but, if you insist. Only, know this; Éothain has attended his training, and Éomer has certainly not been there. So, it is not Éothain, who has occupied his time!"
He proceeded to leave the hall and as he was opening the door to the corridor leading to his study he said: "But, if either of you sees him, tell him that I would like a word with him."
"Of course, father – we shall." As soon as the door closed behind the king, Théodred looked alarmed at Éowyn. "We have to find him and warn him. Do you know where he is?"
"Of course I do," Éowyn replied. "He is with Fréya, just as he has been for the past two months, every waking hour – when he is not forced to be elsewhere."
"Oh, that brat! I'll kill him, if I find him before father does!" Théodred swore. "He thinks that he is in love; she has turned his head completely – why the bloody hell could he not just keep to ….." He stopped himself as he looked at his cousin.
Éowyn chuckled, "to the tavern wenches – yes, why could he not? Do not look so alarmed, cousin, there is only little that I do not know about my brother. I have ears, you know ….. and eyes. And being raised among men gives you a certain understanding."
Théodred grinned. "Well, I should have known, 'Wyn. We cannot keep anything from you, now can we? And Fréya is really a nice girl. Still, he cannot be serious, can he?"
Éowyn shrugged. "Who can tell? I believe that he is serious about her. I have never seen him like this. Before he knew whether she shared his feelings, he could neither sleep nor eat."
Théodred chuckled. "He must be smitten, then. I have never known that boy to neither sleep, nor eat before."
"I will go look for him; he could be everywhere – but I have a feeling that I know where he might be. For sure they are not at Fréya's home; her father would kill Éomer, if he knew that he was seeing his daughter." Fréya's father was one of Théoden's advisors and he was known to be a stern father, who did not allow his three daughters to roam.
"There is only two places, where he could have taken her; one is the royal stables, the other is the gardens – and I will go look for him there." The young girl put on a shawl and ran out the door.
Just as the door closed behind her, the subject of their conversation came in through a side door, trying to look as if nothing had happened. Théodred turned towards him and looked thoroughly at him. He chuckled.
"Well, I might ask where you have been, but I do not have to ask what you have been doing! I can tell from a mile away that you have been kissing some wench; your lips are all swollen – and besides you have got straw in your hair!" Théodred reached out to remove a piece of straw from Éomer's blond tresses. Éomer blushed violently.
"Ahh, come on now, Éomer, it is not as if you are an innocent anymore. I just do not hope that Fréya looks the same way, otherwise Béowulf may come for your hide any minute now." Théodred looked teasingly at his younger cousin.
"Well, then I am in trouble; I had hoped that he would not be at home when she got back." Éomer sighed.
"Oh, but he is; father dismissed his council rather early today – and I might add that he is looking for you, young man. He has found out that you have been neglecting your duties as well as your training lately, and he wants to have an explanation."
"Oh, Béma, I am doomed." Éomer sank down on a bench. "I love her, Dred and I just want to be with her all the time --- do not say that we are too young!" he cut off Théodred, who was looking as if he wanted to protest. "I have never, ever in my life felt anything like it --- and yes, I should be able to tell love from lust by now. You have seen to that, have you not."
"Aye, I know that, 'Mer. But you have much to do yet, before you should settle down. Look at me, I have not even begun to think of settling down."
"No, I am aware of that, Dred – even though you are certainly old enough."
"Little brother, we are warriors; soldiers with a duty, and as the times are, we cannot afford to even dream of wives and children. We must rid our country and the entire Middle Earth of the evil before we can do so, you know that." Théodred looked intensely at his cousin.
"Why should soldiers not be allowed some happiness ---- my mother and father lived with that for many years, and I do not think that they would have missed it for the world." Éomer protested.
"Éomer, you fool ---- your mother succumbed to grief when your father was killed! Would you wish that on Fréya?"
"At least I will give her the choice!" Éomer retorted. His dark eyes shot arrows at his cousin.
Éowyn opened the door and rushed in. "Oh, there you are! I believe that you should prepare yourself for a storm ---- I think that uncle has found out what you have been doing, and Fréya's father, too. Éomer, you should have been more careful!"
Éomer rose. "Then I will beat him to it. I will go and talk to him." The tall young man adjusted his clothes and straightened his shoulders. Then he caressed his sister's cheek. "Do not worry, little sister. I am Éomund's son and I am not afraid of facing what ever may come. In the meantime, 'Wyn, please try and see if you can get a message to Fréya that she should meet me in the gardens when it is dark."
Éowyn shook her head at her older brother. "Éomer, you do ask a lot of me. Very well, I shall do what you ask."
Éomer nodded to his cousin and went into the corridor leading to his uncle's study. He took a deep breath, knocked on the door and entered when he heard his uncle commanding "Enter!"
"You wanted to see me, uncle?" he inquired.
Théoden King had been standing at the window, looking out over his city in the fading light of the day. "Yes, nephew, I did," he said as he walked to his desk and sat down. Éomer stood to attention as befitted a Rider of Rohan in front of his king.
"At ease, lad." Théoden looked sternly at his nephew. "I have a question to ask you. Did you really think that it would not get to me that you have been neglecting your duties – and your training? And I have seen for myself that you have also kept away from the more formal functions in the Golden Hall. Explanation, please?"
The young son of Éomund straightened his back and looked right into his uncle's eyes. For a moment Théoden saw another young man standing in front of Thengel, his own father. Éomund – he had looked just the defiant same as he had stood before his king, asking for his daughter's, Théoden's sister, hand in marriage. Proud, fierce and brave.
Éomer took a deep breath. "Uncle. I apologise very much for my negligence towards my duties; I promise that I shall make it up to you. I admit that I have been distracted lately, but it is a matter of my future and my happiness, and I could do nothing else."
Théoden King looked at his nephew. "I see; well I believe you. I would not expect anything else from my sister-son. But your future – and happiness? What are you talking about, lad?"
Then it dawned on him. Béowulf had been quite angry when they had spoken earlier on. He had found out that some young pup had been gallivanting with his daughter and he had also told the king that he suspected the king's nephew. Béowulf had threatened to castrate the young man, if he found out that his suspicions were true. Now Théoden was certain that he knew who the culprit was.
His voice boomed through the study. "Tell me the truth, lad. Have you been seeing Béowulf's daughter?"
Éomer looked his uncle straight in the eyes. "Yes, uncle I have. I love her and I want to make her my wife. And I would very much want your blessing."
"Are you absolutely out of your mind?" Théoden was stunned. Then a thought struck him. "Is it necessary that you wed? Is she with child?"
Éomer blushed. "No, uncle – no, I have not touched her in that way! She is no …." He paused.
"Tavern wench? Thank Béma, that you have not been that foolish! But – you are too young. You are only eighteen – and what is she? Sixteen?"
"I am old enough to be a Rider of Rohan ---- and it is not uncommon that people marry at that age, uncle." Éomer protested.
Théoden shook his head. "You know not of what you speak, lad. And besides, Béowulf will not give his consent to you marrying his daughter."
"And why not? Is the nephew of the King of the Riddermark not a worthy husband for his daughter?" Éomer's voice trembled.
"Of course he is. But that is not it! First of all he will resent that you have – gallivanted as he says – with his daughter behind his back; secondly he will argue that she is too young – and rightly so. And finally ….," Théoden hesitated, "finally he will not allow it because you are Éomund's son."
Éomer looked disbelievingly at his uncle. "But why should he resent that?"
Théoden King sighed. "Because, my lad .... Béowulf was one of the young men, who courted my sister, your mother. Théodwyn liked him well enough, but once she laid eyes on my father's young marshal of the Aldburg, there was no other man for her."
"But – surely …." Éomer's voice faded as he pondered this.
"Béowulf was angry. He was much infatuated by my sister. The fact that she was a Princess of Rohan was, of course, probably also an incitement to an ambitious man like Béowulf. He never forgave your father "for turning Théodwyn's head" as he has often put it."
"But – if he is so ambitious, uncle, would it not suit him nicely if one of his daughters married the king's nephew?"
Théoden smiled. "You would think so, would you not? But the fact is that I believe that he would rather see one of them marrying Théodred. And even though you are my nephew – and actually next in line for the throne if Théodred does not marry and have children, he would not see his daughter marry you."
"Because I am Éomund's son?" Éomer concluded.
"Yes, my lad, that is so!" Théoden said.
"I love her, uncle ----- I really do. I have never felt anything like it before. You know that I have been introduced to --- well, the things that happen between a man and woman?" Éomer blushed.
His uncle chuckled. "Aye, I suspected as much. I did see your face after your sixteenth birthday. I knew then that Théodred had introduced you to manhood in his own special way, and I also suspect that you have widened your horizons since in that respect."
Éomer was crimson by now. "Then you also know that I do know the difference between lust and love ---- and I swear to you that I will not touch Fréya in that way, before we are married. I love her, uncle. I respect her and I treasure her."
"If ever." Théoden thought and looked at his young nephew. He was sincere, he could tell. "That boy has never been able to hide any of his feelings; he is too honest for that," he mused.
Then he made up his mind. "Very well then, sister-son. If you really and truly want to marry Fréya, then so be it. I shall see what I can do to persuade her father. It will not be easy, but if I speak to his ambitious and power-hungering self, I might succeed."
Théoden let out a sigh, "Éomer, I only agree to this because I know that you are brash enough – and stubborn enough to do whatever it takes once you have set your mind on something. And I would not put past you to elope with the girl – or get her with child to achieve your goal."
"And," he sent his nephew a severe glance, "you must wait. You are both much too young and you still have other duties before you. You are a soldier, sworn to serve Rohan and its king, and for the time being there is no room for a wife and possibly children. – And that is my final word!" he added as he saw that Éomer was about to protest.
Éomer bowed to his uncle. "Thank you, uncle. I shall do as you bid. And I promise you that I will not do anything foolish."
"If only I could be sure of that. Now leave me, go and find Elfhelm, tell him to fetch Béowulf and tell him that the king wants a word with him."
"I can go, uncle." Éomer offered.
"No, you cannot – there is absolutely no need to set him ablaze beforehand." Théoden said sternly. "Now, leave me!"
Éomer turned about and almost ran out of the study. Théoden looked after him. "By Béma, that boy is a right handful at times," he sighed and then he grinned. "Takes after the family, I should say." And then he sat down to contemplate what to say to his advisor.
Éomer joined his sister and his cousin in the Great Hall. The two of them sat at a table, talking quietly. When she saw her brother, Éowyn got up. "That certainly took its time; what did uncle have to say?"
"I told him everything, and he gave me his blessings that Fréya and I could get married; that is, if he can persuade Béowulf to give his consent." Éomer took a deep breath.
"Get married? Are you insane!" Théodred looked at his cousin in disbelief.
"Yes, get married. However, it will not be in a foreseeable future, rest assured of that. Uncle thinks, as you obviously do, that we are too young – and I still have other duties to my king and my country. But married we will be!"
Éowyn laughed. "Well, you are stubborn enough to make this happen, brother. By the way, I have given Fréya your message. She will be waiting for you, she says. If she manages to sneak out." She got up. "I have some chores to do says Fréalin. Behave yourselves." She went out the door leading to the kitchen regions.
When the door closed after Éowyn, Théodred shook his head and thought for a while. Then he said. "So she is not … you know, with child? It is not as if you are forced to marry her?"
Éomer looked at him. "I am not that foolish, Dred. Although – I must admit that I have been sorely tempted at times. If really Fréya was with child, her father could not deny me to marry her." His eyes lit up at the thought. "But I have promised uncle that I will do nothing foolish."
"That would most certainly be wise not to, you git. Besides, I am sure that Béowulf's ambition and father's persuasive skills will make him see sense. You will be a married man before you know it, 'Mer." Théodred shook his head at the thought.
After a pause, he continued with a twinkle in his eyes. "Although I cannot for the world see why you would want that; there are wenches enough in Middle Earth to warm your bed for years to come."
Éomer smiled and said quietly. "Perhaps I am a different man than you, Dred. I was not meant to live my life as a bachelor; perhaps I need the comfort and safety that a home, a wife and children will bring me – even though I am a soldier. I really feel in the very essence of me that I need not have a different wench in my bed every day; I would rather have the same every day for many years."
"By the Valar; who would have thought that one of the prime stallions of Rohan would get so boring at such an early age?" Théodred teased. "Now, go see your lady love, lad. And leave me to get depressed that you will not join the rest of us in wild debauchery anymore!"
Éomer grinned. "Yes, you will have to go on your own, you prat!" He clasped the shoulder of his cousin and ran out the door leading to the gardens.
He only had to wait for a little while before he saw a lithe figure come running towards him and felt Fréya's arms go about his neck.
"Oh, Éomer," she sighed. "Father has found out; he is furious. Luckily he was summoned to Théoden King, otherwise I would never have been able to escape."
Éomer kissed her softly. "Do not worry, my love. I have told my uncle everything; I have told him that we love each other and that I want to marry you – and he has given me his blessing. Your father was summoned to him for that reason; my uncle will make him give his consent."
"But, Éomer …. I do not think that he will ever do that!" Fréya looked at Éomer, her blue eyes filling with tears.
"Hush, Love. He will, I am sure, once uncle has worked his spell." Éomer smiled at her. "I love you – and even if I have to wait for several years, I will marry you. I swear by my father's sword."
He looked lovingly into her pretty face, where the spring sun had brought forward a myriad of freckles. He loved her very blue eyes and shining red hair – but more than her pretty face, he loved her sweet being and her sense of humour. He could talk to her like he could talk to no one else, even his sister and his cousin. And he had never felt as cheerful as he did when he was with her.
"It is a good thing that I turned out to be as handsome as my father, otherwise you would probably not have cast me another look," he grinned.
Fréya giggled. "Aye that must be so. My mother has told me that she was one of the lasses who were very disappointed when the fair Éomund chose your mother."
And then he could not do anything else but kiss her. Soon they had to part. "I do not dare walking you all the way home yet, but soon I will," he said as he embraced her once more.
They parted at a little distance from Fréya's home and Éomer walked up the path to Meduseld and entered by the back door leading into the corridors. All was quiet. Apparently his sister had already gone to bed – and Théodred was presumably nursing his so-called depression in one of the mead halls. He smiled to himself as he went to his room and let himself in.
A fire was burning in the fireplace; although it was spring the air was chilly. Éomer lit a couple of candles and sat down on the window bench to think the events of the day through. He thought of Fréya's face when he had kissed her.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Enter!" he called. Through the door came his uncle. Éomer got up in a hurry. "Am I disturbing you, sister-son?" the king asked.
"No, not all, uncle. Do come in." Éomer rose and pulled up a high backed chair, inviting his uncle to sit down.
Théoden King came right to the point. "I spoke with Béowulf. He will consider the matter after I convinced him that it would be wise to do so. After all, you really are next in line for the throne after Théodred as matters are now, and even though he still does not like you very well, he will get used to the idea."
"But I had to consent to, on your behalf, that you would wait until Fréya turns twenty to marry. Béowulf would not be persuaded otherwise. Presumably he is hoping that you will have changed your mind in those four years!" Or that something far worse will have happened, Théoden said to himself.
Éomer sighed audibly. "Well, I suppose that I have to accept that. If I want Fréya to be my wife, then I must be able to wait for her. Although – it will certainly not be easy."
"Thank you, uncle. I am glad that you are with me on this. Thank you for speaking my case to Fréya's father." he said.
"Béowulf will be telling her this as we speak. You can speak with her tomorrow, provided that you bring your sister – and that Fréya is also chaperoned." Théoden chuckled as he saw his nephew's face.
Éomer groaned. "Well, I assume that I have no choice in the matter."
"No, you do not. Now go to bed, nephew. You have a lot of duties tomorrow and a lot of catching up to do. Before we know it, you and Théodred have to ride again. These are uncertain times. Good night!"
Théoden left his nephew's room, thinking that Éomer would most certainly find a way of being alone with his love – otherwise Théoden would be most disappointed in him. He smiled to himself as he heard his nephew's muffled "Good night, uncle."
Matters were now settled; everything was out in the open, the king having announced the betrothal of the young couple. Éowyn and Fréya's younger sister were being good allies in Éomer's efforts to be alone with Fréya, and so was Théodred, who would miss no opportunity to participate in the intrigues. Thus nothing hindered the young couple from spending whatever time they could together.
It was, however, obvious that Fréya's father still did not harbour any warm feelings towards his future son-in-law. He seemed, however, to have become accustomed to the idea as Éomer in future would be one of the most important men in Rohan, being a Prince of Rohan, the nephew of the present king and the cousin of the future king.
Éomer had once more become the dedicated warrior, focusing on his training and his tasks and as Fréya was allowed to participate on some of the more formal occasions in the Golden Hall, he also was content to be there – and "act royal" as he put it.
A year or more went by; Théodred's éored had been on longer or shorter patrols and his sister and his betrothed now always welcomed Éomer back from these. He felt happier than he had been since his parents had died, leaving him and his sister orphans in the care of Théoden King.
"If father was welcomed by mother the way I am when I return, he must have been a happy man, indeed," he mused on one occasion when he and Fréya – with the help of Théodred and their sisters – had snuck into the royal stables for a moment of homecoming bliss.
The tall young man was filling out more and more and was becoming more and more like his father – or so Théoden thought. The king also saw traits of his beautiful sister in him, especially the eyes, which definitely were a replica of Théodwyn's hazel eyes, inherited from their Gondorian mother.
Fréya was as proud of her betrothed, as he was of her. And she was the envy of many of her friends, who had been rivals to the affections of the nephew of the king.
"Only three years to go," Éomer groaned and let go of Fréya; they were both breathless and flushed from the excitement of their kisses and caresses. The following morning, the éored was to leave for a border patrol and Éomer had managed to smuggle Fréya out, again with the help of Éowyn. His sister had asked for the presence of her future sister-in-law under the pretence that she should help her choosing between gowns for the upcoming events in summer.
As Éomer's room would be the obvious choice, if they were looked for, Théodred had lent them his room; he had left them to themselves saying "that he had pressing business elsewhere in Edoras." Probably with a jug of ale and a willing wench to warm his last night at home Éomer thought, but he was grateful for Théodred's help.
But it had most certainly not been wise to meet in Théodred's room all alone Éomer realised. He had struggled to keep his sanity as he felt Fréya's sweet kisses and her body against his. He was experienced as she was not in these matters, he knew what making love felt like and he had to be the one to stop ---- Fréya was so much in love with him that she would just follow his lead, if he really wanted to take advantage of her.
"Éomer, Love – please do not stop. You are going to be away from me for so long. I want to be with you for a little longer." Fréya snuggled up closer and kissed him. He groaned. His body was reacting to her so that he almost felt ashamed; she had noticed, he was sure of that. She did not seem to mind, though.
Finally they pulled apart as they heard a knock on the door and Éowyn's voice: "It is time for Fréya to go home. Otherwise her parents will be suspicious. Fréalin will take you home, Fréya, and reassure your father that nothing untoward has happened."
Fréya giggled and Éomer went to unlock the door to let his sister in. She looked inquisitively at them and at the state of Théodred's bed.
"Nothing untoward has happened, has it, brother?" the precocious fifteen-year old asked. Éomer lashed out after her and she ducked, laughingly.
"No, sister. Of course not." He bent down to kiss his betrothed. "Sleep well, my love – and think of me while I am gone. Will you come to see me off tomorrow?"
Fréya smiled. "It is very early, so I do not really know," she teased. "Of course I will." And she reached up to kiss his cheek. "Dream of me."
"Not such a good idea," Éomer groaned.
Éowyn chuckled as she saw her brother's face and Théoden King's housekeeper approaching. Being brought up among men gave her a good idea of what he meant.
Fréalin cast a glance at both Éomer and Fréya. "Dry that smirk of your face, lass," she said. "Luckily it is cold outside – so you will have cooled off before you have to face your father."
"And you," she turned towards Éomer, "you had better cool off a bit as well, young man! Really, I had no idea what you were up to! Probably the doing of our illustrious Crown Prince, no doubt!" Fréalin had more or less been the foster mother of Théodred ever since his mother had died and had no illusions whatsoever as far as the heir to the throne of Rohan was concerned.
Éomer blew a kiss at her – and at Fréya, and as the door closed behind the women he went into Théodred's room to straighten the bed. As he was finishing this, the door opened and Théodred came in.
"You are back early, cousin. Could you not find anybody that would let you into her bed?" Éomer inquired.
"You cheeky bastard. Remember that you are talking to your commander," Théodred grinned. "How was your evening, pup? Seeing that you are straightening my bed, you must have gotten her into it?"
"I did, but I do have more restraint that you do, apparently. We are going to be away for a month, perhaps more. And how would it look if I left her with child?"
"Well that would certainly move your wedding a little closer, cousin. Is that not what you want?" Théodred chuckled.
"Yes – and no, not in that way. I will not dishonour her – and besides who knows? We might not get back, and then where would she be?" Éomer's voice struck a solemn note.
"No, you are right. This patrol will lead us close to the real danger. The Dunlendings are wile enough, but their allies, the orcs that come from the South are dangerous, and we will need both our strength and our courage – and our wits about us to challenge and conquer them." Théodred concurred.
"I am glad to have you with me." Théodred looked at his cousin. "Father says that you are becoming every bit the man your father was – and then more. Because you have the ability of reining in your temper and keep a level head."
Éomer blushed, hearing the praise. "I am glad that I am riding with you, Dred. Good night – and thank you for your help. I appreciate it. Although I believe that no one else will."
Théodred shoved his cousin out of the door. "Get out, you prat. See you in the morning!"
Very early next morning at first light Théodred and Éomer took leave of Éowyn and the king. They walked together to the stables and got their horses ready. They did not speak much as they did. Finally they mounted and Éomer took his place behind Théodred in the column. Théodred called out the order to ride and the Riders set in motion.
As they approached the gates, Éomer turned in the saddle; he had not seen Fréya among the people seeing them off. He looked up at Meduseld and saw two lithe figures standing on the steps– his sister and Fréya. He rose in the stirrups and waved to them and then he followed his cousin out the gate.
---oooOOOooo---
A month later, a reduced, dirty and weary column of riders approached Edoras. The fighting had been hard and merciless, and the men were tired and sad. Only the aspect of being home soon seemed to hold them up. Éothain had been wounded and Éomer was supporting his friend in the saddle as he had seen him swaying about to fall several times. He had ridden up beside him, keeping Firefoot close to Éothain's horse.
Edoras had never looked so inviting as it did now. Even Théodred's ever optimistic mood was subdued; the fighting had been fierce and they had lost too many. And although they had succeeded in chasing the enemy back into the hills, the king's son knew that it would not be forever. The evil would gather its strength and come back.
They rode through the gates in silence and halted in front of the stables. Grooms came running to take care of Éomer's and Théodred's horses. Éomer told a groom to take care of Éothain's as well and he called out to a couple of the men to bring home Éothain and send for the healers to tend his wounds.
He looked about him. Surely they must have seen or heard them coming. Where were they? Éowyn, the king – and Fréya? He looked at Théodred, who shrugged. Then he saw Éowyn come out at the top of the stairs. As she saw her brother and her cousin coming up the stairs, she burst out in tears. Éomer could tell from a mile that something was wrong.
In spite of his weariness, Éomer reached the top of the stairs in no time. "What is it, Éowyn. What is wrong?"
He saw his sister's tear strained face and his heart sank. "Is – is it uncle?" he asked and he saw Théodred's face turning ashen.
"No," Éowyn sobbed. "It is ….. Fréya; she is ill, perhaps dying …," her voice broke.
"Fréya," Éomer roared, his whole world seeming to be crashing down around him. "Noooo!" He turned and ran down the stairs, sensing nothing and nobody around him. He did not see Théodred's shocked reaction, as he tried to stop him, nor did he hear his sister's calling out for him. He ran as he had never run before and did not stop until he stood before the door of Béowulf's home. He banged on the door, shouting at the top of his voice. "Fréya! Open the door, for Béma's sake."
The door opened, and Béowulf stood in front of him. Whatever he had wanted to say to his daughter's betrothed vanished as he saw the face of the young man before him. Grimed with dirt and with dark eyes that stared wildly at him.
Béowulf just moved aside. "She is in her room, she is ….", his voice broke.
"What has happened? What is wrong with her?" Éomer's voice was hoarse.
Béowulf could not speak. Théoden came up behind his nephew. "Come," he said softly and led the young man down the corridor where he helped him down on a bench and sat down beside him.
"Two weeks after you left, Fréya came down with a fever. The healers said that it was just a cold and they prescribed bed rest and herbal tea. But it must have been something else; the fever did not go down no matter what they did. Probably she has contracted something from one of the foreign traders in the market place. She and Éowyn went there one afternoon. By shear luck, Éowyn has not been affected," the king said softly as he clasped the shoulder of his nephew.
Éomer looked blankly before him. "But she will get well, will she not?" His voice was trembling.
"Nobody can say. She has been delirious from fever these past few days, and nobody has been able to come in contact with her. The healers have not been able to do anything."
Éomer hid his face in his hands.
The door behind them opened and Fréya's mother came out in the corridor. She looked at the king and his nephew.
"Éomer! It is good that you got back in time," she said. "Fréya has awoken; it is almost as if she sensed that you were here; she is asking for you."
Éomer got up and made a move as if to burst into the chamber Théoden held him back. "I think that you should at least remove your sword and most of your armour, my lad," he said gently. Éomer nodded and his uncle helped him remove the breastplates and the rest of the outer armour, until he stood in his padded jerkin. Tears made their way through the dirt on his face.
"You should go in now," Fréya's mother whispered. Éomer went in; the room was dimly lit and he could only see Fréya's pale face against the pillows. He went to the bed and knelt down beside it.
"Éomer, you came." Fréya's sweet voice was only a hoarse whisper. "I waited and I waited. I wanted to say goodbye …."
"Hush, my love. You are not going to die. You will get well, and then I will force your father to let me marry you before time." Éomer took her hand and pressed his cheek against it. "Everything is going to be all right. I am back now."
He lifted his head and looked at the healer, Merwyn, who was standing at the foot of the bed. He could see in his eyes that he held no hope. The healer shook his head. Éomer understood and choked back a sob.
He looked at Fréya again. She struggled to say something to him and he leaned down so that he could hear her.
"I am sorry, Éomer. I am sorry that I cannot be with you. I love you." Her voice faded.
"There is nothing to be sorry about, my love. I love you too."
She looked at him with abnormally large eyes in her little pale face and saw his tears. "Do not cry, my love," she whispered. Then she smiled; he smiled back shakily and bowed his head. When he lifted it again, she was gone. Her blue eyes were still open, staring into nothingness.
Éomer lifted his hand and closed her eyes. Then he leaned his head against her and sobbed. He whispered, "I love you, you cannot leave me," repeatedly. He knelt by her bed for a long time, just staring at her without comprehending.
Finally his uncle came up to him and helped him up. "Éomer, she is gone. I am so sorry." He embraced his nephew and the young man cried against the shoulder of his uncle. Théoden held him in his embrace until he had no more tears. Then Éomer let go of his uncle and went back to the bed. "Goodbye, my love," he whispered and bent down to kiss her cold lips.
He turned and went out the door, on the way passing Fréya's parents. He had no words for them; he just inclined his head. He left the house and went up to Meduseld. His sister and his cousin met him. Both of them embraced him without words; Éowyn cried mercilessly against her brother's chest.
No one saw Éomer shed a tear again, not even at the burial ceremony. His facial expression was as if frozen for a long, long time and he kept his feelings closely in rein. Only Éowyn could get through to him; the siblings once again uniting in grief,, He never spoke of his love again to anybody – not even to his sister.
Théoden saw this, and his heart bled for his nephew. He knew that there was nothing that they could do. Éomer had loved and lost, and he would eventually deal with it in his own fashion just as he had done when his parents died.
To Éomer, his youth seemed over. He had always been more serious than most youths his age, but in his relationship with Théodred and Éothain he had learned to laugh again, and when he fell in love with Fréya, the carefree young man that he also was had surfaced and bloomed.
Now the stern seriousness that was also part of his nature took precedence, although, gradually, he could be seen smiling again mostly in the company of his family and closest friends.
As he absorbed himself in his duties and work, he quickly became one of the most dedicated and fiercest warriors in all of Rohan, determined to do his work well serving king and country. And it was no surprise when the king appointed him the Third Marshal of the Mark and the command of an éored at a young age.
Éomer was a good leader of men; his men were fiercely loyal to him and they would follow him anywhere, even into the fires of hell – had he asked it of them, because he would be the first to go. He would ask nothing of his men that he would not do himself.
Gradually Éomer returned to his old routines when he was found in the company of the other men, touring the mead halls and the bawdyhouses. Not with the lightness and joy that he had done before he fell in love, "but with the determination of a broken heart," his cousin thought. "He drinks to forget, not to enjoy himself."
Occasionally he sought the company of women, when he was drunk enough but then only the whores and the tavern wenches … and it seemed as if he only sought the release, no more. He did not seek more permanent relationships.
Théodred was worried and spoke of it to his father. Théoden shared the worry, but he knew from his own example that it would take a long, long time before Éomer could ever allow himself to love again – if ever.
But times were getting darker. Béowulf grieved his daughter so much that he had resigned from his office as advisor to the king and returned to his home in the country together with his wife and other daughters. And Théoden King appointed another advisor – Grima, son of Grimod.
But that story is told elsewhere …….