Just wanted to write a meandering one shot that explores the Rohan characters. :) Seriously, I let my mind wonder and this is what I typed. It's boring, and long but I had fun writing it.
I see Éomer in his early 20's in this story; a young man working his way through the ranks of the Mark. I thought I read somewhere that Éowyn was 6 years younger than her brother so that would put her in her mid teenage years, if that fact was true.
On the Open Plains of Rohan
"I grow weary of this dull day." Éomer said. He sat atop the wooden fence used to create a large horse pasture in the flats of Edoras. He watched his sister who stood a few paces away, weaving braids into the mane of his sorrel steed that stood complacently by her side. The mighty war horse nipped at the tender shoots of grass and allowed the gentle twists to be placed in his shaggy hair while he swished his blond tail lazily to bat away the spring's first flies.
Éowyn looked up with an expression void of any emotion to acknowledge that she heard her brother, but had no opinion on the matter quite yet. She squinted against the high noon sun that beat down upon them, then gave Éomer a small smile before turning back to her work.
"Tis a fine day." Éowyn said as she tied off the lock of coarse hair and began sectioning out another to create a new braid down the horse's neck.
"It is, but it is lacking in any type of activity." Éomer rubbed his eyes to rid it of the glaze that the warm boring day produced.
"I thought this was one of your weeks off from patrol with the Mark." Éowyn said. "You should enjoy it. Rest."
"Rest." Éomer snorted. "I've had plenty of it. One can only sleep so much. I grow restless. I need something to do."
"Lightfoot's stall is rather messy and unfit for a king's horse. Uncle would appreciate it if it were mucked." Éowyn offered as a suggestion, but her older brother scowled.
"Something *fun* to do. Not chores." he corrected.
"Well..." Éowyn said as she pondered over something to do, but like Éomer, she could not seem to find anything to occupy her restless brother. She looked to him sitting on the fence as he gazed over the plains without really seeing them. His hair had grown longer in the long weeks he spent away from home and wayward strands of wavy dark-blond hair blew about in the breeze. The fine strands snagged on the stubby beard he began to grow and his rich honey locks covered his face like a thin veil. The wind on the plains was rarely at rest so rather than push his hair back, he let it blow about. "Why do you not shave that scruff from your face? You have ample time to do it today."
Éomer's hand went to his jaw, feeling the length of the stubble that he had not bothered to remove. He finally combed his fingers through his hair to remove it from his eyes before he responded to his sister.
"Nay. I think I will grow it out a bit more." He said and stroked the whiskers on his chin, testing the length out.
Éowyn rolled her eyes.
"What?" He questioned her a bit sharply.
"You are back home, I fail to see why you must look like a road weary traveler who has not groomed himself in weeks." Éowyn said with a smirk. "Honestly, when was the last time you even saw your face free of that tangled mane and scruff of yours? I do not know why you insist on growing it out."
"It is the fashion of our men!"
Éowyn chuckled and shook her head never removing her eyes from her tasks. She did not understand the men's appeal to sprout a beard and let their hair grow excessively long. The boys her age could barely grow facial hair so the age difference between brother and sister left her with very little understanding in the looks of maturing men.
Whatever… her brother could do as he wished. As long as he came home safe from each ride and continued to grow into a respectable rider of the Mark, his looks could be deemed suitable however he so chose.
"Where is Théodread?" Éowyn asked. Their cousin could provide some means of company to her bored sibling since the two were closer in age and had similar interests.
"He is busy helping Uncle with… royal duties." He punctuated with a hint of exaggeration, showcasing his dislike of the tedious work that was required of all royals. That same blood ran in his veins, but was thankful it was Théodread, not he, who would inherit the title of king.
Again, Éowyn nodded. Neither of them spoke for they were both at a loss with topics of conversation. Éomer's horse took a few steps to toward greener grass and Éowyn followed, determined not to lose her place in her embellishments.
"Uncle said you have been excelling in your riding skills as of late." Éomer commented absently. Perhaps this could encourage some kind of mindless task to come forth and give his mind something to do. Éowyn's head popped up and a beaming smile covered her face.
"I have!" She stated proudly. "I was able to ride Brontide the other day." She said to offer her information as the ultimate feat that was able to be conquered by her skill.
Éomer's eyes went wide with amazed surprise. Brontide was a horse notorious for his ill temper and only experienced riders dared to ride him. It took a certain amount of patience and gentle asking to prompt the horse to listen, for he was a proud animal at the top of the equine pecking order. No one told him what to do - horse and man alike - but if he respected you, there was a chance you could ride him.
"Brontide?" Éomer questioned. He heard his sister, but did not trust his ears. Éowyn's smile became bold as the shocked look on Éomer's face was taken as a compliment. Even he was reluctant to ride the stubborn stallion. She nodded to her brother to confirm. His astonishment turned to skepticism and he quirked a brow to Éowyn.
"And who let you ride him?" He asked. In his opinion the fool who had allowed such a reckless decision needed to receive an earful of backlash. Éowyn could have gotten hurt.
"Uncle." Éowyn said casually.
Éomer looked off as his reprimanding plans were thwarted. He knew his place well and though he did not agree with the decision to let Éowyn ride such an unruly beast, he let it drop. He could not tell his uncle, and the King of Rohan no less, how to handle matters. Éowyn was allowed to ride a dangerous horse with not only parental approval, but her king's as well.
The look on Éomer's face seemed to darken and Éowyn took it as a sign that he did not believe her. "I can show you if you would like."
"Nay." Éomer was quick to respond, but his voice was merry. "Maybe some other time." He added. He knew of his sisters strong will and her refusal to accept the word 'no', so rather than poke at her strong spirit, he feigned uninterest with her claims and willingness to showcase her accomplishments. He would not be the one at fault for allowing Éowyn to ride Brontide for a second time. Though Éowyn was perfecting her riding, it was not solely her green skill that he doubted. Brontide's temper was the major cause of his uncertainty. The last time she rode him, she was most likely aided in luck.
Éowyn's bright visage drained. She liked to show off in front of her brother and see his approval with her advancing skills, but right now he did not care. She turned back to the horse and continued to braid his mane.
"How do your other lessons go?" Éomer asked deciding to stick with safer topics for the time being. Éowyn huffed quietly.
"They are lifeless." Éowyn sighed in an even tone that made Éomer chuckle. "There is no excitement in memorizing dates of the past nor how politics of the free peoples of Middle Earth work… even the etiquette lessons I must attend to learn how a noble woman carries herself just seem so dull." She said and looked to her brother to see how he would react to her words. This was not the first time she had complained about her schooling, but others shrugged off the typical adolescent's attitude towards the importance of education.
"Ah yes!" Éomer nodded slowly, reflecting over his own schooling and the days that would drag on. "I do not miss that in the slightest." he boasted happily and grinned when Éowyn scowled.
She envied her brother and how he was not detained for hours in a classroom and was able to ride free over the lands within the realm of Rohan. The fights he faced were exciting and the grueling hard work sounded much more stimulating than listening to a scholar drone on about texts.
Éomer's smirk softened as the unamused Éowyn stared blankly at him. "It is part of your life's dues, I'm afraid." Éomer did his best to encourage his sister, but it was hard to do since he was not overtly fond of studies himself. "Everyone must go through this. You are not being punished, I assure you. Just keep your nose to the whetstone and push through it. One day you will reach the end of the lessons and tests and you can choose the path you want to walk. You will have all the freedoms you want later."
"But I won't." her statement was elusive and Éomer was unsure what she meant by it.
"How so?"
"I already know what I want to do, but it is frowned upon." Éowyn looked pensively to the lock of horsehair in her fingers. Éomer said nothing and watched her silently expecting Éowyn to elaborate, which she did. "I want to be a warrior who fights for freedom and her people… a *shieldmaiden*." She punctuated by a tone of awe and romanticized fantasy while she held her head up proudly at the imaginary title.
"Huh…" Éomer said simply. He knew his sister was bound to lead a nontraditional life, exchanging typical wifely duties for other freedoms, but her confessions were not what he expected. A respected horse trainer, or breeder seemed to suit her needs to live life, but to fight and risk it was not something typically found in women's occupations in Rohan. "That is..." Éomer looked to the ground and jumped his brows while trying to find the right words to exclaim his doubt. She would be taught to carry and wield a sword in order to defend herself if a time ever came where she would need to know how to do so, but to come forth as an active military member was not deemed suitable for women.
"That it is... what? Dangerous?" Éowyn started to counter the doubt her brother had. "I already know it is. I listen for hours of all the battles and close calls everyone has… even you. I know what I would be getting myself into. I do not fear death."
Éomer's head snapped up. That was quite a bold statement coming from one so young and he wondered if it was Éowyn speaking or if she was just repeating heroic words she heard from someone else.
"Death should not be feared." he almost agreed, but his statement was used to further a deeper point. "There are far worse fates out there than death."
"What could be worse than death?" She asked. To her, that was the worst fate. To never be able to walk this earth again and see the wondrous sights of the lands nor loved ones. Their parents had succumbed to that fate early on so she knew what death meant and the repercussions of an early grave.
Éomer thought for a moment. This was not a conversation he thought he would ever have to have with his little sister, but the opportunity came about and he did not know how to take it. "We are mortal. Death will come to us all one day. For some, it comes sooner rather than later so it is not worth fearing. Avoiding?... certainly. But if you let death cause fear, it will always haunt you." He did not know if that was considered words of wisdom or not, but it felt right.
"Then what is worth fearing?"
"...Pain." Éomer offered.
"I do not fear pain either." Éowyn said, but now Éomer knew she was trying to be stubborn.
"Pain comes in many forms." Éomer said and began to swing a leg, letting his boot heel kick the fence beam in a steady knock. This conversation was turning into one-ups and would likely end in a sibling dispute of sorts. He did not want to argue with adolescent nonsense. "Physical pain, emotional pain, mental pain… it is all different. A Marksman is no stranger to all of its forms and something you should consider fearing."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you need to find out what does make you lose sleep at night and pray that it does not find you. All fears will be faced in battle and if you have none, it will lead you to recklessness and death."
"Which should not be feared." Éowyn smiled as the point they were debating over made a full circle and Éomer tripped over his own logic. He just said death was not worth fearing, but he in turned used it to instill a certain foreboding caution.
Éomer placed a calculated hand on his thigh to offset his shoulder. His stance resonated displeasure and he landed a hard look on his little sister.
"Where is this coming from?" a thick dark brow arched in punctuation. Éomer did not like where this was going and he shifted on the fence. To learn his sister wanted to live in the same danger as he was, was unsettling. However, such an adult approach to fear was far more unnerving.
"I stand upon the steps of the Golden Hall and watch each time as you leave with the rest of the men for patrol. Everyone rides out to face danger without a trace of fear while the women look on as loved ones ride out. They wonder if some ill fate will find them and prevent their return. They always fear for the worst. I do not want that. I do not want to hope for a better outcome. I would rather be a part of the fight to offer better chances."
Éomer was speechless. He spent a good deal of time away as of late and during his periods of absence, his kid sister had matured rather fast. She always had a noble heart and her intentions were the best, but how could she possibly know and understand this hefty reality at her tender age? They were only separated by a few number of years, but her maturity suddenly pared with her brother's.
Éowyn interrupted her brother's thoughts with a question that put him on the spot. "Why did you become a Rider of the Mark?"
"It... was my duty!" He scrambled to exclaim. "To protect our lands and our people… to protect you!" He shrugged his nose towards his sister to dramatize his words.
"Why do you have to protect me? I care for you just as much as you care for me? Why can I not protect you? Should women not have the same duty to fight and protect loved ones as well? We live here too!"
Éomer huffed. He wanted to protect his sister from the atrocities of war and battle and keep her spirit free of anything that would taint the strong sole that she was. However, he was losing control of the conversation quickly and felt there was nothing he could say to help persuade her to think differently. "That is not how it works Éowyn."
"Why not?"
"I do not make the rules." Éomer shook his head quickly with a shrug. He suddenly wished he agreed to let his sister show off her skills in riding Brontide. He did not want to look his sister in the eye so he gazed over the expanse of the grass laden valley before them, wishing to find a distraction to halt the conversation.
His prayers were answered.
"Éomer!" A sudden shout cut through the tension and he looked over his shoulder to the third party that called out his name. The relief he felt when he saw one of his fellow Men of the Mark walking towards them flooded his frayed nerves and he let out a silent breath before he waved in acknowledgement. He turned back to his sister who quietly resumed her braiding. Both brother and sister did not speak as they awaited the approach of the newcomer.
The man climbed the chest high fence quickly and swung his legs over the railing to mimic Éomer.
"What are you doing?" the rider asked. He was a tall thin man who looked to be the same age as Éomer. Like the royal descendant, he too chose to let his hair grow longer but his stubbly facial hair grew in a gnarly fray. The wind had disheveled the dark brown locks of the young man, but his appearance was far from groomed so it fit with the rest of his looks. He glanced quickly into the horse pasture towards the girl tending a horse and he nodded cordially to his friend's sister. "Hello Éowyn."
"Hi Eohric." She said back with no enthusiasm. The one presumed to be Eohric tuned to face Éomer, expecting an answer to the question he just asked, but fired off the same question again.
"What are you doing?"
Éomer held his hand before him quickly with splayed fingers, presenting the sight before them that was void of anything interesting. The hand dropped to his knee with a dead slap. "Nothing."
"Ah, I see!" Eohric said with a grin.
"And you?" Éomer asked back bluntly.
"Same... I was thinking about racing barrels. I just bought a new horse. I want to see how he does."
Éomer said nothing, but his face looked of pleased surprise.
"He is supposed to be a fast horse, but he is young yet. I got him Farmer Gullyn."
"You probably paid far too much for him, then." Éomer teased dryly.
"Nah! He shall be a good steed. I just have to ensure he is trained properly... not half-ass it like the old man."
Éomer chuckled in agreeance.
"What say you?" Eohric asked. "Will you join me in a race?"
Éomer did not agree right away, but he casually accepted the invitation as he slid off the fence.
"Sure." He made his way to a pile of tack that was partially hidden by the long spring grass. He picked up a halter and ducked through the crossing beams of the fence to approach his horse. He scratched the forlocks vigorously and the horse flipped his head from side to side, causing the braids to whip about. Éowyn dropped her current braid to avoid the stinging smart of the lashing hair and looked to her brother as he began to fit the halter over the horse's head. She heard the conversation between the young men and she looked up to Éomer.
"Can I come?" She asked.
Éomer took in a long breath as he contemplated the request. It was not that he did not want to be with Éowyn, but barrel racing was a dangerous sport. After the unsettling conversation of Éowyn's bold claims, he did not want to spark her interest in attempting to ride the quick-paced relay. He knew Éowyn would be disappointed if he said no, but it was for her own good.
"Why do you not go find one of your friends and play with them?" he asked with a smile, trying to show that was a better choice rather than have him blatantly state she was not welcome.
"I want to be with you." she smiled and Éomer worried his bottom lip with his teeth.
"Éowyn..."
"What?... you do not want me to go?" she asked as her smiled deepened, but her brother did not dispute her claim and she got the message rather quick. "Oh..."
"You will not have much fun. This is a Rider's sport-"
"You mean a man's sport?" She interrupted. She knew the underlying statement and was not happy to hear that her own brother followed the ideology that would keep her behind.
"It is dangerous Éowyn. I do not want you getting any ideas." He buckled the halter and gripped the cheek strap to begin guiding his horse away with a partially braided mane. Éomer opened the gate and walked the horse out before closing it and joining his friend. Éowyn watched the two met up and her downcast spirit was further squashed as Eohric made a teasing remark that was meant to be kept the two men. She overheard it nonetheless.
"Braided hair on a mighty Rohirrim horse?" he picked up a delicate braid from the steed's blond locks and dropped it with a snicker.
Éomer rolled his eyes but did not comment back. He did not care that his horse was decked out in in the fine weavings, but his comrade was amused by the feminine look in the horse's tress.
Éowyn stood in the pasture watching her brother walk off toward the stables to tack up his horse. The teasing between the young men continued though they were too far away to hear their banter. But the way their heads tipped back or bowed with laughter indicated that joking of sorts continued. She sighed heavily and looked about, but there was nothing around to keep her here any longer so she make her way out of the horse pen to head home.
But she did not want to go back home. It was too beautiful outside to be locked up in any sort of way, whether it be indoors or even behind the thick defensive walls of Rohan's capital. It felt too much like a cage when she only wanted to be free and she looked up to the palace gates several hundred yards off with less desire to enter them.
**...you need to find out what does make you lose sleep at night and pray that it does not find you...**
She suddenly knew her answer. Her fear was a cage. To be locked up with no real use and to accept a boring life. To have to rely on others from the outside in order to survive. To leave your fate in someone else's hands... That was not a life worth living.
She took a detour.
Her feet carried her effortlessly over the fields as she rounded the kingdom in search of something to do. She looked at the blue sky as she walked, then she looked out into the distance to the towering chain of craggy peaks that created the White Mountains as far as the eye could see.
Gondor was a great distance off, but that realm was only separated from Rohan by the natural occurring divide of the mountains. It was said to be a grand place and the illustrations from her study books came to mind.
But Gondor was not the only other establishment in Middle Earth. There were many grand kingdoms of Men out there and there were numerous places where other races dwelled. Dwarven halls littered the mountains to the north and elven forests graced the lands. Rohan was a vast territory in itself, but it was hard to imagine that the world was larger than her homeland. She wondered if she would ever get to see it - any of it - or if she would be stuck here to act as a princess until her title was taken from her when her cousin, Theodred married and she became betrothed to someone herself.
Though she lived in this world, she wanted to be a grand part of it, not go through life with the motions expected of her.
Daydreaming captivated her and she continued to walk the fields in person while her mind wandered down beautiful paths of imagination.
The wind rolled over the open plains and met up with Éowyn, but she did not give it a second thought until a light sweet fragrance caught her senses. She breathed in deeply to savor the perfume that emanated from the lands. She closed her eyes softly, letting her mid race to decode the pleasant freshness and it did not take her long to recognize the bouquet of smells.
Simbelmynë, the native, celebrated flower of Rohan, was in full bloom this time of year and it filled the passing breeze with the blissful scent of pure beauty. She opened her eyes, now noting how far she lost herself in thoughts and found she had come to the back end of Edoras. A little further from her current whereabouts, the land was no longer flat and man-made creations dotted the prairie. Symmetrical mounds were precisely placed and each one looked as though they were snowcapped from the carpet of white flowers that covered each swell.
She knew what this place was and while it was a somber location, it was also beautiful. The embankments were tombs that encased kings of the past and each grave was beautifully adorned with the soft white blossoms. Her forefathers were buried there and the young descendant of the House of Eorl made for the hills.
It was so quiet here, almost as if the earth itself dared not make a sound and disturb the peace that blanketed the nearly unvisited area behind Rohan's capital city. She crept through the rows of flowering dunes, looking upon the wooden barricades that sealed the entrances. Names were carved upon each door and the young girl silently read each name she passed, placing a hand upon the closures to offer her ancestors respect.
Fengel
Folcwine
Folca
Walda
Brego
Aldor
Déor
Thengel
She paused at the last door. While she knew the names written on the tombs, this one struck her. This was her closet father among the heaps; her grandfather. She smiled before the door, bringing forth her imagination that stories produced. Her uncle, Théoden, was fond of retelling any story that involved his father. The past king was painted in a light of respected authority, but had a kind heart and got along well with everyone. He was a fierce fighter, a master of the horses, and brave was a word that seemed lackluster when speaking of his courage.
Éowyn never met him, but she loved him.
A song came to mind and she began to sing softly in the Rohirric tongue. It's haunting melody was only ever sung during a funeral, but the words were of strong individuals who faced death nobly.
"Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended
Giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende
On Meduselde thæt he ma no wære
His dryhtne dyrest and maga deorost..."
The smell of the simbelmynë permeated the air and she filled her lungs with it between each line of song. She looked up to the flowers growing on the roof and the wind made them dance energetically. She rounded her grandfather's grave, still humming the tune and found the easy slope to the top. She climbed upon it to immerse herself in the strong presence of her forbearer.
She gained the crest and stopped, taking in the view from her heightened vantage point that was only several feet off the natural ground. The rolling flats continued to stretch to some unseen point, but obscuring the grand sight before her was a practice riding ring a few hundred yards away. It was occupied.
Four men were inside the massive oval barricade, each were mounted on horses that varied in color. They were pointing to obstacles that lay within the rink; two sets of three barrels grouped a good distance away from each other. The men discussed who-knows-what before they broke away. Two riders lined up by the entrance of the coral, making sure they were evenly placed. They resumed a 'ready' stance within their saddles and waited for a que. The men taking their mark were Éomer and Eohric.
Apparently this was where the barrel racing was to take place and the two who left the horse pastures only moments ago were now joined by two others looking to try their hand at winning the relay.
An undecipherable shout reached Éowyn's ears and no sooner had it been let loose, did the men kick their steeds into a full gallop. Each man made for an opposite end of the rink and tore through the dirt towards their three stationed wooden drums positioned in a triangular shape.
The men steered their horses to run a tight turn around the first barrel without breaking stride. They handled the reins precisely and each man leaned into the saddle with the momentum of the turn, aiding in the horse's balance so they would not become unseated as they cleared their first wooden crate.
The horses came out of the turn with no impact to their speed, then they urged their stallions to gallop faster to the second barrel. They rounded it in the same speedy velocity as the first.
Éomer and Eohric moved at nearly the same time, trying to out maneuver each other to gain a lead, but each man was matched in skill as they bolted through their separate courses.
The two men not currently riding were standing in their saddle's stirrups, whooping and hollering. They were yelling out to Éomer and Eohric they ran the course, encouraging them to go faster and to push them to the brink of their limits in order to win.
The second keg was cleared and each man made for their last respective barrels. The third was taken in a tight loop before the men gave a strong kick to their flying horses, making the stallions charge for the opening in the gate. Éomer and Eohric crouched low to the whipping manes among their horse's necks, making themselves streamline with their mounts to increase their pace.
They barreled toward the pen's thin opening. It was only wide enough for a single passing and both men were hell-bent in being the winner that passed through first. The two riders met up about halfway down the riding ring and the race was now narrowed down to a test of sheer speed and strong will.
The men on standby were nearly screaming with sheer thrill as the stationary horses began to shift with the buzzing excitement that surrounded them.
"FASTER ÉOMER!"
"FLY EOHRIC!"
"COME ON! RUN!"
"GO! GO! GO!"
The riders dashed down the rink. Dry dirt kicked up with each placement of the horse's pounding hooves leaving a wake of thick dust in the air.
Éowyn watched the race from afar. Her eyes were wide with excitement and her heart was galloping like steeds in the race. Her brother was risking injury to win the game and she almost couldn't stand to see him get hurt if he did not back down to pass through the opening safely.
The men were only feet from the gate and the horses were nose to nose. They were snorting heavily to accommodate their speed, and the men kept pushing them to take the lead.
Éowyn held her breath. This bound to end in disaster.
At the last possible second, Eohric's will crumbled. He only had a fraction of a second to react and knew Éomer would not cave. The young rider reined his horse to break and the steed dug his hooves into the ground to pull up short. Éomer slipped by and darted through the fence as Eohric followed behind in a canter.
Éomer stood in his stirrups and dropped his reins. His clenched fists flew into the air with a victorious shout, letting his trusty horse roam where he wanted to take a breather. He turned to face his component while grinning. The dark haired man rode up along Éomer and delivered a playful shove in passing, ruffling the winner.
"That was daring!" Eohric chided and broke away from Éomer to go join the others waiting by the fenced pen. Éomer took a seat in his saddle and gathered the loose reins to begin guiding the horse back. As the horse turned, Éomer spotted something in the distance and he paused.
Standing on one of the graves of his ancestors was a small blond figure. He could not make out the distinct facial features of the individual from afar, but he knew who it was regardless. He did not know Éowyn had come out here, nor why she would want to.
The wind blew about and threw her hair at her back. She lifted her chin in and attempt to keep her face clear of the long golden strands and at that moment, Éomer caught a glimpse of his sister as he had never seen her before. She looked so strong upon the heaped earth; her posture was defiant and unbending, an inherited trait from their high bloodline. She stood watching him from the resting place of the grand kings, looking like her strong respected spirit belonged there. She seemed ageless; a warrior who stood out against the passing of time, taking a rightful place among others who faced evil with valor and skill. It startled him.
Éomer tore his sights from his little sister and gave his painting horse a nudge with his caves. He did not want to think about Éowyn placing herself in danger like that. Not now, not ever. He directed the horse to move on and join his comrades.
Éowyn sighed, but did not let her brother's rejection get to her. She did not come out here to beg to be part of their games... though it did look fun. She took a seat on the grassy mound and began to sing the song once again, this time with purpose as though she were singing to her grandfather. The white star flowers surrounded her and she began to pick them absently as she watched her brother and his friends regroup to start the second heat of their competition. Éomer and Eohric were now the ones in charge of the rallying and when the other men were positioned in the pen, Éomer let out a shout to start a new leg of the barrel race.
The dust was kicking up easily now that the ground had been broken by the first set of riders so the competition was hard to follow, but cheers were called out to them and the sound carried over the plains and to Éowyn's ears.
She did not understand the rules of this new race. Instead of immersing herself in following the competition, she went about her business and picked more of the delicate flowers. Her lap was becoming covered in them and rather than let them go to waste, she took each stem in her hand and began to braid them together, making a fragrant ring that she placed upon her head. She added to her flowered crown little by little as her singing continued. The sad ballad then turned to happier tunes and she began melodize words of freedom and courage while watching snippets of the competition from afar.
Every now and then, she would catch Éomer glancing towards her. He didn't really acknowledge his sister, but he knew she was still there and he seemed mildly agitated. She did not know why he was so bothered by her presence here, but she was not doing anything wrong so she remained.
A few hours came and went and Éomer and his friends had run several races in that duration. The men, now sweaty from their physical activities, began to break up and they dispersed, ready to close out the relays that tired them and their horses.
By now Éowyn's crown was thick and full and she managed to create a linking chain of flowers around her neck. She watched as the men headed for the city, but Éomer did not follow them. Rather, he took his leave of the group and he slowly made his way over to her.
It took a few moments for him to cross the expanse that separated them, but finally the young horse master made his way over to his grandfather's grave to join his sister. Éowyn looked up to him with a careful smile in greeting.
"Who won?" She asked indifferently.
Éomer could hear a particular disappointment within Éowyn's words and he looked to the ground with a deep sigh.
"Did you lose?" Éowyn asked. Her question was not meant to be a barb of any sort, but she did not follow the game closely so to her it could have been anyone's victory.
"Nay, I won."
"Then why so gloomy over it?" she pressed. She held a white flower in her fingers; its stem was picked far too short to be added to her decorations so she carefully tucked the bloom in her hair behind her ear for safe keeping.
"I am sorry Éowyn?" he mumbled softly.
"For what?" she had no idea what he was apologizing for and she was puzzled over his ceased excitement that was so strong a few moments ago,
"You are right… You do live here and you do deserve a chance to be part of it how you see fit." Éomer looked up to his sister, but the vision he had not long ago was sharply counted by her current appearance. She sat among a thick patch of flowers that were woven delicately into her appearance. Her youthful face was smooth and unassuming and her pale blue eyes were bright with life. She resembled no warrior right now and looked every bit of her innocent age.
Éowyn was taken aback for a moment. She did not expect Éomer to ever come to terms with her unladylike wishes, but the fact that he might be contemplating her role in life differently made her smile.
"I just never thought you would want to live this kind of life and I only ever pictured you in safe hands, not fighting to make the world safe."
"It is everyone's duty to make the world safe." she said easily and Éomer only nodded.
"Aye… I am sorry." He apologized guiltily again.
She shrugged, offering the gesture as vague movement that neither accepted the apology or declined it. Her smile was reserved, but there was a spark of mischief in her piercing eyes.
"You could make it up to me then..." she suggested casually and Éomer's brows began to worry. "Explain barrel racing to me. I want to know of it."
Éomer let out a soft sigh. For a moment he thought she would be so bold as to ask to go out on patrol with him, or go hunt bandits, or even orcs, but her innocent curiosity towards a game was a relief and he beamed to Éowyn.
"It is hard to explain." he said and looked to the vacant ring he was once riding in. A thought came to mind and he did his best to contain his strong smile. "It would be easier if you rode it and learned as you went along."
Éowyn's jaw dropped slightly and she looked to Éomer with disbelief.
Éomer was amused. "You did say you were excelling riding, did you not?" He questioned as Éowyn seemed to not be able to speak. She shook her stunned moment off and stood quickly, ready to ride. She descended the small mound quickly and her brother extended his hand to her. He pulled her up into the saddle with him and urged his horse to begin walking back to the ring.