Disclaimer: This is not mine. Everything you recognize from the books and
more besides belongs to Tolkien. The names Tiarnan and Seoirse belong to my
friend. The names for Danain and Marai come from my head. But none of is it
mine.
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"Go on, Éomer," Theodred said with an exasperated sigh. "Why ever won't you?"
Èomer glared at the older man. He really shouldn't, or rather couldn't, explain that he was just feeling run-down. It would be immature to say he was tired. And Theodred seemed to agree.
"I know you are GOING to go, Èomer, and you are GOING to enjoy double sword lessons with your friends. Off you go, now, immature cousin of mine." Theodred continued playfully. And Èomer trudged off down the hallway, sighing.
He was mature. Wasn't he? Éowyn, at least, seemed to deem him a responsible sibling. Of course, he thought bitterly, she herself acted older than her age.
Well, sometimes, he amended with a grin as he came to his small bedchamber. He ducked in and grabbed his sword and helmet from where they were lying on the untidy bed. Éowyn had apparently decided that her brother's room needed to be defended, and was leaning halfway out the window with a small wooden sword. Èomer guessed that she was challenging one of her friends, and slipped out into the corridor again.
The air whipped around him in a frenzy when he stepped into the courtyard in front of Meduseld. A group of boys called to him from a lower pavilion, and he hurried down the stone steps that covered the slopes of Edoras.
"Good. We can start, now that everyone is here. I trust you stretched already?" Tiarnan stated. Èomer nodded at the stocky Rohirrim who was rumoured to be the best fighter in all the westfold. "Then you know what to do. Find a partner. I want you all to practice parrying, in all positions. Slow and correct, if you please."
Èomer looked sideways at his friend Seoirse, and the two exchanged a rueful grin. Èomer quickly strapped the leather jerkin to himself and pulled on his undecorated helm. Without speaking to his impatient friend, he sunk into a fighter's stance. Seoirse smiled lightly, and the two began the drill.
He cursed to himself. He just could not maintain his balance, and his depth perspective seemed to be twisted today. He should be able to do the drills. The order came for a more complex excercise, and Èomer growled.
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Èomer pulled off his helm and shook his sweaty head. Seoirse smiled at him, and gripped his arm in the customary thanks; but the other boy said nothing, and Èomer scuffed his foot on the ground in frustration.
"Go drink, but be sure to come back for more sparring," Tiarnan called out lazily, leaning against the stone wall.
"Èomer!" a familiar voice piped up. The lad looked around for his sister, who dashed excitedly up and grabbed his hand. "Èomer, my friend Marai's uncle has arrived, and he and Theodred want you to come..." she blurted out, all but dragging him over to the steps.
"Careful, 'Wyn!" Èomer warned, nearly dropping his sword. He wrested his arm free from Éowyn's iron grasp to settled his helm under his arm and slide his sword through the loop on his belt. Éowyn scrambled off, and he was tempted to not follow; but he sighed and continued after the girl.
"There!" she said, and made a face at him. Marai ran down the steps and pounced on Éowyn, and the two girls scuffled briefly.
Theodred was speaking to a tall, middle-aged man. His boots looked travel- stained, but there was relief on his face.
"Èomer, come here." Èomer wondered why it was so important to meet this man. Surely he was just a subject of the Mark, like all his friends and everyone around him? But Theodred spoke to the man. "Danain, this is the son of Eomund of Westfold. Èomer...."
Danain nodded courteously at Èomer. "Forgive me, but I have a young son, and my wife asked me what my impression of the future Marshall of the Mark was." Èomer was taken aback by this blunt statement. He hadn't really encountered this before........ the boy shifted nervously, and Theodred noticed the sword and helm.
"Is the lesson over, then?" he grinned, somewhat evilly. Èomer just glared back; but Éowyn interrupted.
"His lesson isn't over, he has to go back in a few minutes!" She jumped up and down. "Marai, Danain, want to come see my brother fight? He's really good!" Èomer sighed. Theodred, who was not successful at masking his amusement, would get it later. As would Éowyn, annoying sister that she was.
"I would be delighted, Éowyn," the newcomer smiled, "friend of my niece."
Èomer walked fast, distancing himself from the others. He needed to calm down.
Danain and Theodred murmured a greeting to Tiarnan before settling themselves against the wall. The girls trotted off, ambling back several times.
"I promised you a challenge, lads," the instructor called out cheerfully, "So I want pairs- one with his real sword, the other with a wooden sword and a shield. Let's see who can defend themselves. Èomer, I do believe everyone wants to see you work the wooden weapons, and Seoirse is the most equal match for you. He's also quite possibly the only one not afraid of you."
Èomer reluctantly set down his helm and sword, taking up the wooden practice weapon and shield. Seoirse, stretching slowly, silently watched him; he fidgeted around. "Be careful not to hit too hard... and begin." Tiarnan leaned back to watch the skirmish.
The two friends circled each other. Èomer leapt to attack first, but Seoirse dodged and came at him. He managed to catch the blow on his shield, but Seoirse, as the one with the real weapon, wielded greater force. He shoved the other's blade aside, lunged, and let out a triumphant yell as he managed to land a blow.
Seoirse flinched, but slipped his sword under Éomer's shield to strike a point of his own. Èomer broke away again, but Seoirse continued the attack with uncommon aggression.
Èomer parried the metal blade, but he nearly stumbled. He swung wide, too wide; he could just barely glimpse Danain's measuring expression. Panting, he sprang forward and slammed his sword into Seoirse's leg.
The wooden hilt was wrenched from his hand. Seoirse yelled; Èomer was suddenly aware that the wooden blade had snapped clear off the hilt and gone flying. Shocked, he went to Seoirse.
"I'm fine, fine." His friend snapped, massaging his leg. "Don't hit quite so hard."
Éowyn and Marai were staring. "Has that ever happened before?" one of them whispered. And Danain watched thoughtfully.
"Èomer." Tiarnan looked stern. "If your friend is okay.... I suggest we discontinue this bout. Both of you, go sit with the others. And Eomundsson- you had better help Seoirse if he needs it."
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"Uncle!" Éowyn rushed over to sit next to Theoden.
"Hello, Éowyn," the king smiled, setting down his mug. "How are you, lass?"
She grinned back chipperly as Èomer settled himself across the table with Theodred. Danain sat on the other side of the king's son. "Uncle, I learned something really important today. I've decided it's my duty to warn you. Never let my brother near a wooden sword again."
"Oh?" Theoden glanced at his nephew. The boy was seething, tearing a roll into shreds and pointedly looking away from Theodred and Danain. "What happened?"
"Well, Theodred and Danain and Marai and I were going to watch Eomer's sword practice, and...."
Èomer blushed. "Éowyn, that's enough!" he said, overly loud. His sister merely made a face at him.
"...and Tiarnan had Seoirse and Èomer fighting with practice swords..."
Livid, Èomer hissed warningly at Éowyn.
".....and Èomer slammed his sword on Seoirse's leg so hard that the blade broke off from the hilt and it went flying! Then Seoirse yelled, he was in a lot of pain....."
Theoden was about to laugh; breaking a wooden sword on one's friend was certainly a comical accident. But he caught sight of Éomer, who looked wretched. The lad would probably want to get away from Danain, as Theodred had already reported the Rohirrim's purpose in watching the lesson. "Well, Éomer, if you broke a practice sword, I suggest you go ask the whittlers to make another one. Really, you should be proud of your strength- if I remember correctly, Tiarnan prefers hard ones of oak. You may go now, if you wish."
Éomer got up without a word, and trudged out. Éowyn and Marai also stood; Danain called his niece back, but no one prevented Éowyn from following her dejected brother.
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"Éomer?" She called, tramping after him. He seemed to be heading for his room. Éowyn paused before crouching in the shadows, silently pretending to sneak up on her brother.
She peeped into his room. He was standing at the window; she could hear him, and the voice of Seoirse. The his friend walked away, and he turned round, and she sprung at him playfully.
"Éowyn!" he jumped backwards and glared. "Go away." He was holding his sword again.
"Oh, come on¸ Éomer." He had been hearing that phrase too much lately. "Why're you mad?"
"I said go away." She plunked herself down on his bed, arms crossed. "Éowyn, I have a sword. And you know how rough I can be with them. Thanks to you, the whole court knows," he said bitterly, shoving her gently off the bed.
"You're such a fool!" she cried, springing at his head. He snarled and tried to fend her off. Within seconds, they were rolling on the floor. Éowyn bit his hand, which was holding her wrist; he shoved her against the wall. He tried struggling to his feet, but his sister kicked at him. Éomer collapsed on top of her, holding her feet down with his. She struggled and almost managed to get free of the corner, but, with a snarl of disgust, he leapt up and stormed out of his room.
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"Go on, Éomer," Theodred said with an exasperated sigh. "Why ever won't you?"
Èomer glared at the older man. He really shouldn't, or rather couldn't, explain that he was just feeling run-down. It would be immature to say he was tired. And Theodred seemed to agree.
"I know you are GOING to go, Èomer, and you are GOING to enjoy double sword lessons with your friends. Off you go, now, immature cousin of mine." Theodred continued playfully. And Èomer trudged off down the hallway, sighing.
He was mature. Wasn't he? Éowyn, at least, seemed to deem him a responsible sibling. Of course, he thought bitterly, she herself acted older than her age.
Well, sometimes, he amended with a grin as he came to his small bedchamber. He ducked in and grabbed his sword and helmet from where they were lying on the untidy bed. Éowyn had apparently decided that her brother's room needed to be defended, and was leaning halfway out the window with a small wooden sword. Èomer guessed that she was challenging one of her friends, and slipped out into the corridor again.
The air whipped around him in a frenzy when he stepped into the courtyard in front of Meduseld. A group of boys called to him from a lower pavilion, and he hurried down the stone steps that covered the slopes of Edoras.
"Good. We can start, now that everyone is here. I trust you stretched already?" Tiarnan stated. Èomer nodded at the stocky Rohirrim who was rumoured to be the best fighter in all the westfold. "Then you know what to do. Find a partner. I want you all to practice parrying, in all positions. Slow and correct, if you please."
Èomer looked sideways at his friend Seoirse, and the two exchanged a rueful grin. Èomer quickly strapped the leather jerkin to himself and pulled on his undecorated helm. Without speaking to his impatient friend, he sunk into a fighter's stance. Seoirse smiled lightly, and the two began the drill.
He cursed to himself. He just could not maintain his balance, and his depth perspective seemed to be twisted today. He should be able to do the drills. The order came for a more complex excercise, and Èomer growled.
------------
Èomer pulled off his helm and shook his sweaty head. Seoirse smiled at him, and gripped his arm in the customary thanks; but the other boy said nothing, and Èomer scuffed his foot on the ground in frustration.
"Go drink, but be sure to come back for more sparring," Tiarnan called out lazily, leaning against the stone wall.
"Èomer!" a familiar voice piped up. The lad looked around for his sister, who dashed excitedly up and grabbed his hand. "Èomer, my friend Marai's uncle has arrived, and he and Theodred want you to come..." she blurted out, all but dragging him over to the steps.
"Careful, 'Wyn!" Èomer warned, nearly dropping his sword. He wrested his arm free from Éowyn's iron grasp to settled his helm under his arm and slide his sword through the loop on his belt. Éowyn scrambled off, and he was tempted to not follow; but he sighed and continued after the girl.
"There!" she said, and made a face at him. Marai ran down the steps and pounced on Éowyn, and the two girls scuffled briefly.
Theodred was speaking to a tall, middle-aged man. His boots looked travel- stained, but there was relief on his face.
"Èomer, come here." Èomer wondered why it was so important to meet this man. Surely he was just a subject of the Mark, like all his friends and everyone around him? But Theodred spoke to the man. "Danain, this is the son of Eomund of Westfold. Èomer...."
Danain nodded courteously at Èomer. "Forgive me, but I have a young son, and my wife asked me what my impression of the future Marshall of the Mark was." Èomer was taken aback by this blunt statement. He hadn't really encountered this before........ the boy shifted nervously, and Theodred noticed the sword and helm.
"Is the lesson over, then?" he grinned, somewhat evilly. Èomer just glared back; but Éowyn interrupted.
"His lesson isn't over, he has to go back in a few minutes!" She jumped up and down. "Marai, Danain, want to come see my brother fight? He's really good!" Èomer sighed. Theodred, who was not successful at masking his amusement, would get it later. As would Éowyn, annoying sister that she was.
"I would be delighted, Éowyn," the newcomer smiled, "friend of my niece."
Èomer walked fast, distancing himself from the others. He needed to calm down.
Danain and Theodred murmured a greeting to Tiarnan before settling themselves against the wall. The girls trotted off, ambling back several times.
"I promised you a challenge, lads," the instructor called out cheerfully, "So I want pairs- one with his real sword, the other with a wooden sword and a shield. Let's see who can defend themselves. Èomer, I do believe everyone wants to see you work the wooden weapons, and Seoirse is the most equal match for you. He's also quite possibly the only one not afraid of you."
Èomer reluctantly set down his helm and sword, taking up the wooden practice weapon and shield. Seoirse, stretching slowly, silently watched him; he fidgeted around. "Be careful not to hit too hard... and begin." Tiarnan leaned back to watch the skirmish.
The two friends circled each other. Èomer leapt to attack first, but Seoirse dodged and came at him. He managed to catch the blow on his shield, but Seoirse, as the one with the real weapon, wielded greater force. He shoved the other's blade aside, lunged, and let out a triumphant yell as he managed to land a blow.
Seoirse flinched, but slipped his sword under Éomer's shield to strike a point of his own. Èomer broke away again, but Seoirse continued the attack with uncommon aggression.
Èomer parried the metal blade, but he nearly stumbled. He swung wide, too wide; he could just barely glimpse Danain's measuring expression. Panting, he sprang forward and slammed his sword into Seoirse's leg.
The wooden hilt was wrenched from his hand. Seoirse yelled; Èomer was suddenly aware that the wooden blade had snapped clear off the hilt and gone flying. Shocked, he went to Seoirse.
"I'm fine, fine." His friend snapped, massaging his leg. "Don't hit quite so hard."
Éowyn and Marai were staring. "Has that ever happened before?" one of them whispered. And Danain watched thoughtfully.
"Èomer." Tiarnan looked stern. "If your friend is okay.... I suggest we discontinue this bout. Both of you, go sit with the others. And Eomundsson- you had better help Seoirse if he needs it."
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"Uncle!" Éowyn rushed over to sit next to Theoden.
"Hello, Éowyn," the king smiled, setting down his mug. "How are you, lass?"
She grinned back chipperly as Èomer settled himself across the table with Theodred. Danain sat on the other side of the king's son. "Uncle, I learned something really important today. I've decided it's my duty to warn you. Never let my brother near a wooden sword again."
"Oh?" Theoden glanced at his nephew. The boy was seething, tearing a roll into shreds and pointedly looking away from Theodred and Danain. "What happened?"
"Well, Theodred and Danain and Marai and I were going to watch Eomer's sword practice, and...."
Èomer blushed. "Éowyn, that's enough!" he said, overly loud. His sister merely made a face at him.
"...and Tiarnan had Seoirse and Èomer fighting with practice swords..."
Livid, Èomer hissed warningly at Éowyn.
".....and Èomer slammed his sword on Seoirse's leg so hard that the blade broke off from the hilt and it went flying! Then Seoirse yelled, he was in a lot of pain....."
Theoden was about to laugh; breaking a wooden sword on one's friend was certainly a comical accident. But he caught sight of Éomer, who looked wretched. The lad would probably want to get away from Danain, as Theodred had already reported the Rohirrim's purpose in watching the lesson. "Well, Éomer, if you broke a practice sword, I suggest you go ask the whittlers to make another one. Really, you should be proud of your strength- if I remember correctly, Tiarnan prefers hard ones of oak. You may go now, if you wish."
Éomer got up without a word, and trudged out. Éowyn and Marai also stood; Danain called his niece back, but no one prevented Éowyn from following her dejected brother.
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"Éomer?" She called, tramping after him. He seemed to be heading for his room. Éowyn paused before crouching in the shadows, silently pretending to sneak up on her brother.
She peeped into his room. He was standing at the window; she could hear him, and the voice of Seoirse. The his friend walked away, and he turned round, and she sprung at him playfully.
"Éowyn!" he jumped backwards and glared. "Go away." He was holding his sword again.
"Oh, come on¸ Éomer." He had been hearing that phrase too much lately. "Why're you mad?"
"I said go away." She plunked herself down on his bed, arms crossed. "Éowyn, I have a sword. And you know how rough I can be with them. Thanks to you, the whole court knows," he said bitterly, shoving her gently off the bed.
"You're such a fool!" she cried, springing at his head. He snarled and tried to fend her off. Within seconds, they were rolling on the floor. Éowyn bit his hand, which was holding her wrist; he shoved her against the wall. He tried struggling to his feet, but his sister kicked at him. Éomer collapsed on top of her, holding her feet down with his. She struggled and almost managed to get free of the corner, but, with a snarl of disgust, he leapt up and stormed out of his room.