In Ring One: It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so! ~Mark Twain
Author: Zee
Title: Spring Fever.
Rating: PG
Characters: Gamling, OFC
Disclaimer You know who I am, you know who I ain't. You know what I claim and you know what I cain't!
Dedication: to all the Daddy's girls…and all the moms who have to put up with them.
Warning: This is set in the Rider of the Mark Universe. You don't HAVE to have read it to get it, just know it takes place 15 years from its current placement and contains spoilers. (I mean, you REALLY should have guessed most of this by now.)
This is for all the girls, about 13
High School can be so tough, be so mean…
Gamling had forgotten how… noisy and congested Edoras was.
Crowds of people, smells, clamorous, close together. Even the stables had a staleness about them that was disquieting.
***And to think you thought you'd miss the place when Éomer King sent you to the Wold. You thought it would be like going to prison.***
A prison, indeed. A prison of open air, endless blue skies. And a homestead and garrison that had to be rebuilt from almost the ground. Aefre cried-
***sobbed like a runny-nosed tot***
-when she saw what had been done to her old home.
The Rider and Marshall sighed. What was past is past and the area was now bustling and healthy with growth and Rohirrim. He admitted to a wee bit of pride when he looked over the gardens his wife insisted on toiling in, the fields the people worked together and the barns – where Rohirrim and others came from far to inspect. Their breeding and stock were much sought after.
***All right. More than a weeeee bit of pride. More like a puffed up tail-bird!***
But that wasn't his concern at this moment. At the moment, his main concern lay riding in the direction of a small copse of trees where he not only shared a first kiss with a fiery and passionate woman, but where he married her as well!
Of course he was concerned about the large rising of dust caused by many Elven and Gondorian horses riding toward Minas Tirith. This spring's yearly visit to Edoras coincided with a contingency of Elves traveling from Lorien to Gondor. But that was a mild concern and he had a feeling that both concerns were connected.
He entered the stables. He immediately felt at home in the filtered sun and smell of hay.
"Sir!" Haleth ran up to him from behind, gangly youth turned tall-
***you look like your da, only taller. He'd be so proud***
-Rohirrim. This trip back from Edoras, the boy would be bringing a bride home with him.
"You should have sent word down. I would have Dréogan saddled for you!"
"I'm not so old I can't saddle my own horse!" Gamling stepped around the Youngling with a smile. "Besides, I'm afraid I would be interrupting something. With your marriage-"
"I took your advice, Sir." Haleth fell in step with the Marshall. "I'm letting her do the planning. I'll just show up when I'm told to and wear the things I'm told to wear." He leaned over to whisper in Gamling's ear. "Lady Aefre is making my wedding cloak!"
"Then you'll have something wonderful indeed." Gamling stopped, memories of his own wedding cloak revisited. "Erm. Make sure it's plenty wide. Enough to wrap the two of you in." He strode on. "Afterall, you don't want to be showing her arse or yours to whoever catches you the next morning."
"No sir. I don't." Haleth stopped in front of the tack shelf assigned to Gamling and his entourage upon their arrival for the festivities in Edoras. He set down the large sack he was carrying and picked up Gamling's heavy ornate saddle. "Would you be liking company for your ride?"
Gamling heard the wistfulness in his voice. "Under the circumstances, I don't think she'll be pleased if I bring company to witness her… whatever." He slung the heavy gate open. "Considering her temper and attitude as of late, she probably won't be pleased with me witnessing her whatever! Come! Dréogan. We ride!" He tossed the apple he was carrying, watching the stallion catch it nimbly from the air. For a fleeting moment, the soldier feared this would be the last trip his war stallion made, but he shook the thought from his mind. Gamling slung the blanket and the saddle on the horse's back, mindful of the applesauce slobbers dripping into the sawdust. He began to cinch the saddle snug. "You might as well give me the food sack."
"I've put it in a saddlebag for you." The saddlebag appeared from thin air, throwing itself over Dréogan's rump. Both Marshal and Youngling working across from each other to attach it to the saddle. "Your lady wife gave it to me. Told me to chase you down. She figured both of you would be hungry."
"She knows her daughter well," Gamling murmured.
The boy blushed before going on. "I've also added a skin of newly made apple wine that's been watered down. Not very potent, but still sweet."
He swung himself up in the saddle, a small twinge in his side clenching, stretching; one that never went away even after all these years. "I won't tell! Open the doors and gates and clear the way. I don't plan on allowing her to get far ahead."
"I wouldn't think so." Haleth grinned, headed for the barn door. "I, for one, wouldn't want to be in your boots come a span." He hollered over his shoulder with a grin. "But I thought I'd offer my company, just in case. I guess I get to go through this in fifteen or twenty summers." He threw the doors open. "HO! RIDER! CLEAR THE PATHS! OPEN THE GATES! RIDER! HO!" There was scurrying in the lower path where adults checked to make sure no little ones wandered in dangerous places. One learned soon that not necessarily your ma or da would scoop you up and out of harms way for a time when a Rider of the Mark bolted from the stables.
"True and I don't wish it on you. Tell my wife I'll be back when I am back. Enjoy her time with Lothiriel." Mindful of stray dogs and children, Gamling carefully picked his to the gate before pointing him in that ancient direction and allowing him his head.
Dréogan was slowing down. His heart was still strong and he was still formidable in battle, but Gamling knew his pasture days were getting closer and that within the next two summers, he would be training the colt that was newly born in a stall in the Wold just weeks before to take Dréogan's place.
But… Béma's balls, he was slowing down as well. The yearly trip to Edoras grated on his nerves as of late and his blood no longer sang as it once had when Éomer King called the Eorlings to ride for Gondor.
And the Elves still drove him insane with their gracefulness and robes and politeness and their strange lilting language and…
And nothing! His daughter was in a copse of trees, probably crying her eyes out, over an elf. Probably Tamtheril, who still visited and drove Sulis insane because Gaberas 'liked' him and wouldn't begin to gaze at any of the Riders on their holdings. It was time for that one to go west! Far, far west as west as one could go or sail or whatever they did!
***Hrmph! Elves!***
He was upon the copse before he realized and was relieved to see her mount there, reins loosely tied, enough for the stallion-
***no wimpy mare for you, not my girl!***
-to graze, but not trip on his lacings. He dismounted, tying his reins as well, before unlacing the saddlebags, slinging them over his shoulder, and stepping softly into the copse.
Every year, the copse grew, thickened with a bit more scraggly shrub. The spot where he wrestled Aefre the first time-
***and got a very nice kiss thank you very much***
-was grown over and he decided to bring Aefre back in a few days for lunch-
***and DESSERT!***
and to clear it out somewhat for Haleth's bonding. He bent to step beneath a branch and into the clearing proper.
!THUNK!
A long-bladed knife flew past him into the tree to his left. Gamling cocked his head to the side before sliding a glance at the thrower and yanking the still vibrating knife free from the tree. "Hate me so much little one, you'd see me dead?"
"NO!" Petulance rose from the voice in the shadows. "I just want to be left alone." Gamling turned the knife, offering the handle to his daughter. She took it from him and resheathed it.
"One never knows what roams the Riddermark. Mountain men, Orcs…" He allowed his voice to trail off as he settled in the dirt on the other side of the tree, his back to hers. He couldn't see her; she couldn't see him… both separated by a tree and forthy summers of experience and attitude.
Lots of attitude.
He removed his riding gloves and tucked them in his belt.
"I can take care of myself. There are no Orcs here! You can go back to Edoras and tell Ma… Mother… I am fine!"
The Rider grimaced at his daughter's tone and shuddered. This wasn't going to be easy. He forced himself to relax as he pulled the saddlebags that were slung over his shoulder onto his lap. "That won't be a problem," he tried hard to sound jovial. "Of course I would be happier if you had her morningstar with you, but that little knife you have will be very effectual against a group of mountain men, I'm sure."
"DA!" He heard both fists hit the ground.
***hehe…don't forget I diapered your butt and sat on Éomer King's throne singing you our history before you were a day old! Okay, you were a week old before I diapered your butt but I still diapered it!***
"I'll just have a bite to eat before I go. Oh, look," he exclaimed, over-brightly. "There is roast beef. Roast beef on fresh sour dough bread!"
"Roast Beef? Fresh sour dough?" He heard gravel roll and saw the shadow of her head peek around the tree. "Is there spicy mustard?"
Gamling made a great, noisy show of digging through the bags. "Aye. Spicy mustard and… oh look. Apple wine. Enough for two."
There was the sound of scuttling and out of nowhere, Léoma plopped down next to him. She had Aefre's deep brown Gondorian eyes and Gamling's wild red hair, which she struggled to keep in a braid. She inherited his sisters' long, lean legs and already at age fifteen summers, looked her mother in the eye. Truth be told, the ancient Riders said she favored Gamling's mother, who in her younger years would turn a man's head so fast, it would snap their necks. What his father did to capture her in marriage was downright under-handed. "I'm not allowed the apple wine. Ma… Mother said not yet." She sighed, very heavy and very dramatically. "Sometimes, I think she thinks I'm still a baby."
He passed her the wine skin. "Little sips," he ordered, although he doubted the wine had any if much potency at all. "And don't tell. Your grandmother still treats me like a baby! It's what mothers do." He took the wine skin from her and took a drink.
***BAH! WINE MY ARSE! APPLE WATER! WheretospitwheretospitohBémaI'llswallow!GAAAAAH! ***
The two removed the wrapped roast beef and bread and proceeded to make sandwiches. Léoma continued to sip the watered down apple wine. It eventually had the desired affect on her fifteen summers system.
"It's so peaceful and quiet here."
"Not at all like Edoras."
"No. Not like Edoras. Da?" Léoma's head was leaning on his shoulder and he tucked her under his arm when she wiggled closer. "How do you know when you're in love?"
***aha! An Elf! I knew it! Dréogan has another run left in him! I'll put his war standards and armor on, we'll run the poncy thing down, ground him into the dirt…***
"Sweetheart," Gamling began after a pause, "you might as well ask me how does the earth turn. Why does the sun rise and how does the moon wax and wane. I know none of these things. I'm just a simple Rider."
"No!" Léoma jerked up, eyes wide, looking into his. "You're not just a Rider! You're a Marshal of the Riddermark! Théoden King's right hand man-"
*** I know I know I am so awesome***
"-Éomer King considers you his trusted advisor! I heard him say so when he introduced you to the Elves! You're my Da! You know everything!"
There was a lump in Gamling's throat and for the life of him; he had no idea where it came from or how to get rid of it. "This is what I do know:" He laid a calloused finger on her nose, "Your mother is the air I breathe. If something were to happen to her, I would not wish to live. If something happened to you or to your brothers, I would die beserking to kill whoever hurt any of you."
"My brothers?" her upper lip curled. "They are so disgusting. They… fart in the bath water."
It was time for a little comeuppance. "Yes, even them and just so you know, I fart in the bath water." She gasped.
***probably why your mother won't bathe with me hardly anymore. Hmmmm.***
"OH, DISGUST!"
"Ah, it's fun! Don't feel bad. I felt the same way about your aunts." He stopped for a moment, reminiscing. "Funny, we got older and realized we actually liked each other. Hey! Want to hear something funny?" Gamling dipped his head down towards his daughter's ear. "Sulis used to call me 'Stupidhead.' She still does on occasion."
Léoma was laughing. "Sulis is fun. Beornia has been so much fun this trip. She let me help her make bread yesterday and I took it out to Cynn. They are such a weird couple."
"Weird, yes, but devoted."
***I'm glad she stayed, glad she fell in love again, glad her boys like him***
Léoma giggled for a few minutes before becoming serious again. "No, really. I don't understand this… love… stuff." She turned, facing him while still tucked under his arm. "I mean… I remember when Abéodan got married. And when Aunt Beornia married Cynn and I think I remember when Willan married Eadignes."
"You were quite young. Barely three summers."
"I know. They got married in the barn. It was newly built and fresh and there were ribbons and banners and flowers." She whispered, "Eadignes was ready to pop, I remember that. Her belly was so big!"
***aye she made Willan wait and plead.***
"And now Haleth and … and… and… I don't know." Her voice got very quiet. "And he is so beautiful and I don't know why he makes my stomach clench."
"Haleth?"
***I'm going to kill him.***
"NO!" she sounded shocked. "Not Haleth! Cele-" she cut herself off, both hands covering her mouth.
"Might as well finish it."
She put her nose into Gamling's leathers, something she hadn't done since she was small and didn't want anyone to know she was frightened. "Celeborn."
***dead elf. One dead elf coming up!***
"Sweetling, Celeborn is-"
"Married! I know! To the most amazing elleth ever! The Lady of the Golden Wood, even if she went West! Did you really meet her? Was she really beautiful?"
"The Lady Galadriel was the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. She was as light as Arwen Queen is dark and when she spoke, one listened."
"Oh." Léoma pulled up, her arms thrown glumly around her knees. "So, she is truly beautiful" She sighed. "You know, Celeborn is really old." Gamling closed his eyes. He knew it was coming. "He's older than you, even."
***eyeroll. Thanks***
"Celeborn is older than the Riddermark. He's really, really, really old."
"Ancient."
"Aged."
"Venerable."
"Senior."
"Over the Hill."
"Decrepit."
"Superannuated."
"Very."
"DA! Do you even know what that means?"
"Not a clue."
It was quiet before she continued. "He's probably shooting blanks."
"Dust, even."
It took a moment for what Gamling said to register, that her father, her Da, wasn't admonishing her for unchaste or unladylike thoughts, was in fact was joking back with her. She burst out laughing, rolling away on the ground. She laughed until she coughed up the dirt she stirred. She finally stood up, arms crossed her chest and stared out in the direction of Edoras. "I'm so confused. Everyone is getting married, everything is beautiful, and I'm not 'in love' with Celeborn-"
***perish the thought***
"-but… I just don't understand. When is it my turn? When will I know? How will I know? Will Béma come from the sky on his horse and bellow, 'This is him! Better let him wrap you in his cloak!' It's just… scary."
Gamling pulled himself up and it took him longer than he liked. As he stood behind his daughter, his fingers combed through her hair, removing the pine needles and leaves. Unconsciously, he began to braid it.
"It's called spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!" He finished the braid and pulled the metal clasp from his own to tie it off. His arms went around her as he rested his chin on the top of her head.
"Da? Will I ever be beautiful?"
"You're already beautiful."
"DA!" He hugged her tighter so she couldn't turn on him and become a miniature of her mother, all fury and big words. Aefre was enough, thank you very much! "You're supposed to think I'm beautiful! I mean… really! Will I ever be-"
"If you're not going to like my answers, stop asking me questions! The day you were born, I thought you were beautiful! You were beautiful when you marched into the barn and demanded your own pony, you were beautiful when you bowled me over on the practice field and announced you didn't want to be JUST a Shieldmaiden; you demanded I train you as a Rider and you are beautiful now!"
"I was not beautiful as a baby." Léoma scowled disbelievingly up at him. "Babies are red and wrinkled and nasty when they're born."
Gamling's mind wandered back to that early morning, before the sun had risen. It was cold, snowing and he was working himself into a frenzy in the barn because his mother kicked him out of their chambers. "The minute I laid eyes on you, I fell in love with you. You fit perfectly in the crook of my arm and I remember sitting in Éomer King's chair as I showed you every banner hanging in Meduseld and sang you our history." He let his words sink in for a moment. "Then you opened you mouth and started screaming because you were hungry and I couldn't get you back to our rooms fast enough so your mother could feed you!" He squeezed for good measure before turning her loose. "At that moment, you were red and wrinkled and nasty. But you were still beautiful." He took in the lowering of the sun. "We need to pack up and get a move on if we're going to get back to Edoras before your mother has a search party sent out. Believe me, you do NOT want to find out Éomer King is hunting for you."
"He gets mad?"
"Oh no!" Gamling picked up his saddlebags and started stuffing them with the leftovers and trash. He slung it over his shoulder. "He'll embarrass Mordor out of you!" He leaned over towards her and hissed. "You will want to crawl under the barn! " He winked. "Even the muckpile is preferable to Éomer King pestering you!"
Léoma was laughing as she pulled on her riding gloves. "I think you exaggerate!"
Her hand was caught in a steely grasp, her father's eyes glittering in the sunset. "Don't ever throw a knife at me again. I will correct you. You will not like it."
She gulped and her backside twitched. Gamling had 'corrected' her once and it was not an experience she ever wanted to repeat. She cried for days, not because of the switching she received but because she upset her father and she thought he hated her. "Yes sir." They quietly retrieved their horses.
"Feel better?"
It took her a moment to think. "No. But I'll be okay. It's only life, after all." She pulled up on her mount. "I'll race you to Edoras!"
"Think you can beat me?"
Léoma smirked. "You and that old horse of yours? I think so."
Gamling gave her a head start. He still won.
But barely.
Fini