Part 184 of the Elfwine Chronicles. The Elfwine Chronicles are a series of one-shots built around the family group of Eomer, Lothiriel and Elfwine. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes.
A little something for Father's Day.
Gifts
(April, 24 IV)
Eothain gazed thoughtfully at his king, sitting across the desk from him in Eomer's study and busily writing a few instructions. He had been here for nearly quarter of an hour, and something had been niggling at his thoughts the entire time. Finally it came to him what was amiss, though he hesitated a moment more before unable to restrain himself.
"Eomer, your tunic is…crooked," he observed, waggling a finger toward the part he thought did not lie properly on Eomer's frame. "You need to straighten it before we leave." The two were riding to Aldburg today to meet with Elfhelm.
Eomer looked up at him, then glanced down at his clothing. He shook his head. "No. It is fine the way it is." He continued writing as Eothain's eyebrows knit with puzzlement.
After a moment, he persistently ventured, "I am sure it is crooked, Eomer. Did Lothiriel make that for you? I had thought she was good at sewing."
Now Eomer leaned back in his chair, playing with the pen in his hands. Although his features remained serious there was the hint of humor in his eyes. "Lothiriel is a fine seamstress," he assured his friend. "Even those who sew for a living envy her tiny, even stitches."
Eothain mentally chewed on that a moment. For all Eomer's praise of his wife's ability, he had not said that she made this particular garment. Someone else then. Not Theodwyn – never her. His eyes narrowed…Morwen. "It is a gift then, from perhaps…your youngest daughter?"
Eomer gave a single nod as a grin tweaked his mouth.
Eothain subsided into silence, his mouth pursed in thought. When his eyes again came up to meet the gaze of his monarch, he chuckled, "I see then that I am very fortunate."
It was not the comment Eomer had expected, and now it was his turn to ask questions. "Why is that?"
Eothain's grin broadened. "I have fathered only sons!" he snickered. "I think I would do well to stop while I am ahead!"
Eomer could restrain himself no longer and burst into laughter, soon joined by Eothain. When at last they managed to get themselves under control, Eomer glanced down and shrugged as he smoothed the less-than-perfect garment, the child's latest effort, which had been presented to him with great pride. Her desire for approval had been evident in her eyes. Few other than Eothain would dare mention its shortcomings, and he could tolerate a bit of embarrasment easier than he could bear to see disappointment in his daughter's eyes. "I am not so sure about that," he told his friend sincerely. "Despite such moments as this, little girls are a sweet reward not to be missed."
Eothain sobered slightly, then nodded acknowledgement. He wasn't sure why, but he believed Eomer's words. And, for just a moment, he envied the man his daughters.
THE END
6/21/09
FYI: Morwen is 10 here; Eothain has two sons: Brandir (b 13 IV, so 11 here) and Freahelm (b 18 IV, so 6 here)
End note: It is best that you read the Elfwine Chronicles in the order they were written. The more of them that I wrote, the more likely I was to make reference to one of the previous ones and something that happened there. If you want to read them in order, go to the top of this page and click on my name (Deandra). That will take you to my profile page. Scroll down and you will find all the stories I have written. The Elfwine Chronicles are in order from bottom to top since ffn shows them in the order they were posted. A few were posted out of number order, but you can read them in posting order or number order since those few won't be affected in the story content.