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Title: Boys Will Be Boys
Summary: The young men of the Riddermark will grow up to be great warriors… Now, they're just boys, and Théoden intervenes. Pre-books/movies.
A/N: The scene in the Two Towers when Éowyn and Éomer are looking over a wounded Théodred breaks my heart… He's practically their brother… Then this little drabble just kind of popped into my head. I made the boys close in age in this story, even though Théodred is quite a bit older than Éomer in the books.
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"Éomer, slow down! You're going too fast!" King Théoden fondly watched his niece try to keep up with her brother and cousin. It seemed she had skipped out on her nurse and run off...again. At eight, Éowyn was far too ambitious for a girl of her status – he would have to speak to one of the ladies' maids about getting her trained and ready for court. Soon, she would take up the responsibilities of her station. Most afternoons, she could be persuaded to sit and practice her writing and embroidery.
At the moment, all she wanted was to play with the boys.
"You can't come, Wyn," Éomer used his sister's pet name even as he scoffed, blonde locks blowing into his face from the ever-present wind that scoured the plains of Rohan. "Merlow said you couldn't follow us to the stables anymore. Besides," he exchanged a smirk with Théodred, who was looking far too superior for his fourteen years, "girls aren't supposed to bother with riding and things. Not like you can…" he trailed off as his sister balled her fists, scowling at him.
"I can, too!" Éowyn protested fiercely. "I can ride better than you, and I can use a blade, and I know how to work with leather, and–"
"Let her come if she wants," Théodred spoke up, smiling conspiratorially at his cousin. Éowyn crowed happily and Théodred turned blue eyes to her. "No crying," he said and Éomer burst out laughing.
"Race you to the stables!"
The cousins took off running and Éowyn felt her lip quiver. Boys were just mean. Uncle King was nice, he let her sit on his lap now and again, and told her stories, but Éomer and Théodred would never be kind like that. They never let her come along, they wouldn't admit that she could ride as well, and just last week, Éomer had called her a brat for wanting to tag along while he practiced bow-shooting.
Before Mama's death, he had never been mean.
Against her will, Éowyn felt the warm trickle of a tear run down her cheek, and reached up quickly to wipe it away. It was no good following the boys to the stable now; they would know she had been crying. Somehow, Théodred always knew. He would tell her not to cry, which would have the opposite effect, and then they would leave her.
Éowyn sniffed loudly, her skirts blowing the wind. If Mama were here, she would know what to do; she would make Éomer behave. Théodred only ever listened to Uncle King and the soldiers, but he would be nice if Uncle King told him.
A warm hand on her shoulder made Éowyn look up at her beloved uncle, whose golden hair shone about his head like the glow of fire-flame. "Did the boys abandon you again, dearest?" Théoden asked and Éowyn nodded, sniffing once more.
"Why are they so mean, Uncle?"
Théoden smiled and looked to the stables, where he could see his son and nephew leading their horses out before mounting. "They are just boys, Éowyn, not the men they think they are. They will learn to treat a lady with respect, someday."
"I'm not a lady," Éowyn mumbled. "Éomer said so."
"Did he now?" Théoden stroked his niece's silken hair as she nodded, pressing into his side, small arms reaching around his waist. "Well, he was wrong, Éowyn." At her wide-eyed stare, he smiled at the young girl. "You are as much a Shieldmaiden of Rohan as your mother ever was, may you never forget." Glancing up at the now-mounted, whooping boys, Théoden's smile grew. "Come along, my child. Let's go see if Háma has a mare for you to ride."
Éowyn shrieked in laughter as her uncle swung her up and onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he set off, burying her face into his hair.
--
Théodred saw his father first. He rose up high in his seat and raised his "sword," which was no more than a roughly hewn piece of wood. "Hail, Théoden, King!" he called out, and Éomer quickly followed his cousin's example. Though he was two years the prince's junior, Éomer was already filling out, faint lines of muscle beginning to grace his stockier frame and he was catching up to his cousin in height. Théodred was wiry where his cousin was burly, not an ounce of fat on either of them.
They will be great leaders someday, Théoden thought as he nodded to his son. "I see you are already comfortable with your new horse," he called out.
Théodred beamed, reaching down to the pet the broad neck of his steed. "I have decided to call him Brego," he said proudly, "After the second king of Rohan."
"Very good." Théoden nodded to his majordomo, Háma, an excellent soldier and tutor for the two boys. "Is there a mare handy that this Shieldmaiden may ride?" he asked, and Théodred's face fell as he saw Éowyn slip off of the king's back.
"Ugh." Éomer's exclamation was soft enough for his cousin to hear, but not loud enough to reach Théoden's ears. "Why does she have to ruin everything?" he asked Théodred, and the young heir shrugged.
"Girls." His voice dripped with disdain as Éowyn scampered off into the stables.
The young men froze on their horses as Théoden turned to them, eyes hard. "I'm only going to say this once," he said quietly, stepping closer to the riders. "As heirs to the throne of Rohan, I expect you both to treat every person with unfailing respect and courtesy. That includes your sister," he looked at Éomer, who lowered dark brown eyes shamefully, "and cousin." Théoden turned to his son, who could meet his father's eyes for a moment before he, too, had to look away.
"Éomer," the king said softly, going to his nephew's side. The youth looked down at his uncle, eyes dark with embarrassment and pain. "I know how you miss your mother and father. Your sister is too young to understand, but Éowyn needs you now more than ever. Show her the love that she needs from her brother." Théoden laid a gentle hand on Éomer's knee as the latter nodded. "There's a good lad. You'll make a noble Marshall yet." As Éomer beamed, Théoden slipped under his horse's neck to stand next to Théodred, surveying his son.
"I am sorry, Father," Théodred said softly. "I shouldn't tease her, I know."
"No," Théoden agreed. "You shouldn't. She looks up to you, my boy, almost as much as she does Éomer. That should stand for something."
"It does, I swear." Théodred took a deep breath and released it slowly, brow furrowing. "Only…" he began slowly, not quite meeting his father's questioning gaze, "only, could she not follow us quite so often? What if she were to be stepped on in the stable? Brego's hardly just been broken, and she could be hurt."
Théoden laughed at the earnest look on his son's face. "Yes, I suppose she does get underfoot rather easily. I'll talk to Merlow about keeping a closer eye on her. However, practice patience if she does come along, boys. She might be just a girl today, but a day may come when she fights for us all. She will never hold an ill-word against you, as long as you show her kindness in return."
The boys nodded their understanding, hefting their practice swords in their palms. They vowed never to be so helpless that Éowyn had to defend them; it would always be their duty to defend her.