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-2-
Several days later
Mildred looked up from where she'd been helping Baldwyn with her sampler. For a girl of seven summers, her stitches were remarkably fine.
Hilda nodded for the boy to come forward.
He bowed, then announced solemnly: "Lord Baldwig requires your presence in his study, Lady Mildred."
"Thank you," with that she dismissed the boy.
"I shall escort you," Hilda said, before Mildred could even ask.
She motioned for one of the maids to come closer. "Watch the boys. Lady Baldwyn will continue with the task her sister set for her. We shan't be long."
Mildred squeezed her little sister's hand subtly, hoping to give her some reassurance even though she felt none herself at the moment.
However, she wanted to finally know her fate - whatever it may be.
Baldwyn's lips wobbled suspiciously as Hilda nodded to show she was ready to leave.
"I shall be right back, little filly. Don't worry overmuch now."
Her sister nodded, hastily wiping away a stray tear. "Promise?"
"I promise."
Mildred hugged Baldwyn gently, smiling at the young girl.
But as soon as the door to the nursery closed behind them, she frowned lightly.
Hilda gave her a soft smile, full of approval. "Come now, my Lady. Your lord father is awaiting your arrival."
Mildred nodded, straightening her dress, and followed the nurse through the corridors to her father's study.
This time, Hilda didn't frighten the guards into submission, but rather allowed one of them to knock.
As they were bid to come in, Hilda squeezed her hand in a similar manner as, only moments before, she had done to her sister. "Good luck, my dear girl."
Again, Mildred nodded, closing her eyes for a heartbeat. Then she opened them, straightened her entire posture, and walked into the study as if she owned it.
There was no need to be afraid after all - the decision had been made. Now, she only needed to figure out how to live with whatever the outcome might be.
Lord Baldwig stood behind his desk, smiling fondly and bowing his head a little to acknowledge her entrance.
"Dearest," her father said warmly.
He offered her his open arms - an invitation she happily accepted.
Mildred closed her eyes, cheek pressed against the embroidered velvet of his tunic. She breathed in the unmistakable scent of her father: a mixture of leather, a whiff of horse, and the herbal soap he preferred to use.
His beard scratched her forehead a bit as he pressed a kiss on the skin there.
"My very own, little firebrand. Do you know, I was the first person who held you when you arrived in the world? You were so small you fit into the palms of my hands."
She could hear the fondness in his voice, the fierce pride.
"Unlike all of your siblings, you were so quiet," his voice hitched a little, "we thought you did not have the strength to survive the coming weeks. It was a hard winter. But, by Béma, you had us all fooled. I can still well recall how my ears were ringing as you shared your displeasure with the world! How dare we evict you from that comfortable home, under your mother's heart?"
The fondness increased, but gained a wistful edge.
"Sometimes, when I look at you, I wonder where the time has gone."
Mildred grinned a bit wobbly, deeply touched by this rare display of his softer feelings. "I love you too, Father," she muttered into the tunic, tightening her own hold on him a bit in emphasis.
"What shall I ever do without my little firebrand underfoot? I had always thought that our parting shall come when you are much older, to one of my éored," he admitted softly. "A man who lived close enough for regular visits."
"Oh, Father..."
He pressed another kiss to her forehead. "I should have known that you would make your own choice. You always knew your own mind best and never were you shy to share those decisions with us others."
He sighed. "Théoden King writes to invite you to the Golden Hall in order to become an apprentice to the Lady Cwendar. She has led the king's household in the absence of the queen and would show you your duties as the wife of the king's sister-son."
Mildred closed her eyes, feeling her shoulders loosen as the tension bled out of them. "So I shall be tested."
Her father chuckled. "Had you any doubt in that?"
She looked him straight in the eyes. "Never. Éomer loves and respects his mother-brother too much for him to be indifferent to him or his sister. No, I always knew I would be tested."
"I have no doubt that you shall be glorious, dearest. I am afraid, I have bragged much to others about my most capable daughter. So much," he added with a hint of mischief in his voice, "that those others may doubt the truth of my words."
Mildred snorted at that. "Let them doubt. I shall do my best and leave them to their thoughts. To them, I have nothing to prove."
Her father laughed, his entire body shaking with amusement. "For you already hold the affections of Lord Éomer?"
"Naturally. I don't require anyone's approval, not even his."
"I'm glad, dearest, for that. If he had been toying with you or coerced you into anything against your will, I'm afraid I would have waged war against an old friend."
He said it so casually, as if commenting on the weather or whether it was better to use a sword or spear for a specific task.
Mildred sucked in a breath. "Father!"
"I know it should not be so, but you are dearest to my heart, little firebrand, and for you, I would set aflame the Mark."
"Oh," was all Mildred could come up with. She had always known he loved her, sometimes even better than any of the others, but this?
Nothing quite showed how deep his love for her ran - not like casual mention of high treason and war, apparently.
Her father gently pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. "I shall miss you by my side at meals."
As much as she appreciated the sentiment, maybe she could help both him and her favorite little sister out.
"May I suggest a replacement, Father?"
His eyebrows raised a little, but he nodded anyway.
"Baldwyn. She will miss me most of all the young ones. I believe it's time to start her Shieldmaiden training. She is old enough for the bow, at least."
A smile grew slowly on his face. "Very well, dearest. Although I shall miss you, I shan't be the only one."
There was a knock on the door.
"Enter, Éomer," Lord Baldwig called out, voice warm, as he stepped away from her.
Mildred observed the blond who she was promised to now.
Éomer stood with his back straight, face shuttered from those who didn't know where to look. But his eyes were switching back and forth between her father and her, no doubt taking in the way her father was smiling.
"I shall leave you to explain and say your goodbyes, dearest. Remember that I'm only a door away if you feel the need to scream."
With that, Lord Baldwig left them alone in his study. His sanctuary.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Mildred attacked Éomer in a near-flying tackle hug.
He barely had the time to brace himself, but once she had wrapped her arms around him, he pulled her tight against himself.
She would miss this most of all, although the kisses were really quite pleasant as well.
"The King asked that I apprentice to Lady Cwendar, to learn all I can from her for my future duties," Mildred said, voice muffled by yet another tunic.
This one smelled like polish, horse, and honey soap. The one she'd gifted him with for his birthday.
A near silent sigh escaped him as he shuddered with relief.
Éomer breathed in the scent of her hair.
Mildred smiled a bit. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."
He laughed. "I would never dare to dream of it."
They grinned stupidly at each other for a long moment.
"So, you and I shall wed?"
Knowing he needed to hear it confirmed out loud, that he didn't doubt her words, Mildred smiled. "Yes."
One of her hands was stroking his cheek, letting him order his thoughts. Allowing the news to sink in properly.
Éomer closed his eyes under her ministrations, a slow smile growing on his face.
"Do you know when?"
"I imagine when you have completed your apprenticeship and earned the right to call yourself a Rider of the Mark."
He nodded, pressing his lips on her forehead.
There was no itchiness or scratching this time.
"I shall miss you while you are gone," he told her softly, eyes boring into hers.
"I shall miss you too."
They basked in their embrace for a moment.
"Promise me that you won't fall irrevocably in love with some minstrel in Edoras?"
Laughing, Mildred stood on her tiptoes and proceeded to steal his breath.
"As long as you won't fall in love with Baldwyn."
Éomer grimaced at the mere idea, so Mildred deemed it safe to leave the two of them alone with each other.
"I'm afraid that you've already taken my heart. Until you no longer wish to own it, I'm not free to give it away."
"Then I shall guard it like a dragon," she promised, adding: "as long as you wish it, you may have my own heart."
"No one shall do it harm."
He swore it like a solemn oath.
Mildred knew he would do his best to keep his word. She also knew that sometimes life didn't bow to one's plans.
"Will you write to me?"
"As long as you reply."
"As quickly as my duties allow."
Éomer tugged her into his lap, seating the both of them in her father's chair.
Mildred hastily swallowed the involuntary shriek. Her heart was galloping away in her chest, but she couldn't stop the grin that stole over her face when she saw the mischief lurking in his eyes.
"I love you, you know," she whispered, leaning down so their mouths were nearly touching.
"I love you too."
After that, they didn't speak much more.
Within days, everything was readied for Mildred's departure. Her trunks packed with enough dresses to tide her over until she either outgrew them or could have the remaining ones sent to Edoras.
She snuck a few books in as well, all of which were written in Westron. All of them gifts from her father.
Mildred looked over her small chamber, now bare. She smiled as the door opened and her sister poked her head inside.
"Come, Baldwyn."
She closed the door behind her, jumping onto the bed next to Mildred.
"I wanted to give you something, so you'll remember me while you're gone," Baldwyn told her, offering her a neatly folded cloth.
"Thank you, sweetheart. How could I ever forget one as kind as you, sister?"
Curious, Mildred unfolded the cloth. It contained a beautifully embroidered page marker, dyed a deep green. In all four corners, a differently colored horse reared up, showing off its mane proudly. There were flowers as well, and in the middle, pride of place, were Éomer's and Mildred's initials, entwined.
It was superb work.
As Mildred told her sister so, Baldwyn blushed beet-red, hiding her face from sight as best she could.
"Oh, dear heart. Thank you! I shall treasure it always."
She embraced her little sister, mildly surprised by just how much she would miss her while she was gone.
Baldwyn nodded, burying her face in Mildred's side. "I don't want you to go, but I know that you shan't be able to marry Éomer unless you do. So I won't ask you to stay, not like Baldhelm and the other boys."
"Oh, Baldwyn. You can always write to me and if it's urgent, you can go to Éomer or Father. They will help where they can."
"They're not you."
Mildred shook her head, grinning. There was no arguing with that logic. "Show them how much you can shine, sweetheart. And kick Baldhelm's shin a time or two from me."
Baldwyn nodded seriously, but mischief sparkled in her eyes.
The following morning, Mildred sighed when her door opened once more.
This time, instead of a younger sister, her mother joined her.
Lady Milburga gently took the comb from her daughter's hands, running it through her red mane the way she used to do when Mildred had been much younger.
Then she braided the long hair into a solid string with practiced ease, her tattooed hands working with their usual gentle efficiency, tying the end with a piece of leather.
Their eyes met in the mirror and Mildred nodded at her.
She wondered what kind of color the latest tattoo around her mother's wrist would be; another blue one or green for a little sister.
"I know Hilda and I have taught you well."
"You did."
"Don't allow anyone to make you believe otherwise. Sometimes, even the best of us are afraid of change."
Maybe Mildred would miss this woman who had given birth to her a little more than she expected.
In the courtyard, everyone and their mother was waiting.
Hilda was keeping Mildred's brothers in check and occasionally wiped away a stray tear. Possibly because she'd lose her best excuse to barge into the Lord's study now.
Éomer led Sigerun, her mare, out of the stable, fully saddled and ready for the journey.
Lord Baldwig stood next to his own stallion, a massive black warhorse.
Lady Milburga stepped forward, fussing with Mildred's cloak brooch, refastening it.
"Béma bless you."
With that, she kissed her forehead and joined Hilda in the constant battle against four little boys' excitement.
Mildred swung herself into her saddle, praising Sigerun softly for standing still and being so patient.
Her eyes met those of her betrothed and they nodded to each other, but she could see his love for her shining in the deep brown.
She smiled at him.
Then Éomer stepped back and let go of the reigns.
"Let us ride!" Lord Baldwig shouted over the din, leading the group out of the gates.
Mildred gently pressed her heels against Sigerun's flanks, urging her forward. She thought that she would like this adventure, seeing a bit more of their world.
It had been a long time since she had had the opportunity to travel.
Over fourteen years, to be exact
