Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Eomer/OC.
Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.
Chapter 2: Just a Child
Catrin sat in the scalding hot water quietly as Orva brushed oils into her freshly washed hair. Her mind wandered as the soft touch reminded her of her mother's hands – braiding her hair each morning.
"What bothers you, dear?" Orva questioned the unusually quiet girl.
"Just remembering… That is all." Catrin smiled sweetly and continued to wash her already raw skin.
"Catrin, enough, you are clean!" Orva laughed at the absentmindedness of the girl and turned to pass her a drying cloth – indicating that they were finished for the moment. "You will need the sunflower oil for your skin as well. I will be back in a moment."
"Orva, that's not necessary." Catrin countered but Orva moved swiftly, for an old woman, and was already out the door. "Ugh." Catrin shook her head at the woman's insistence and felt annoyed by the unwarranted attention.
Many men that served the mark had visited her father in the past. Some came for social interest as her father was once their captain; and, some came to report the northern stability past Freyden. Not once, had her father shown such interest in her appearance before and it made her beyond frustrated. She knew it was because the Third Marshall of the Mark was the King's nephew but she felt that a man of the éored would care less if a woman would rather be on horseback than in the halls with needles and thread. Catrin huffed as her frustration boiled – her father once defended her lack of feminine interest when Orva would fuss over slight tangles in her hair. His sudden change in demeanor made her feel on edge even though she understood his reasoning.
"Your father is a proud man, Catrin. Lord Éomer is the King's nephew and therefore your father wants to show the lord that his daughter as a Lady of the Hall, a dutiful daughter, not a mud rat. He has expectations as a Lord to live up too." Orva spoke, approaching Catrin with a glass jar full of the oils for her skin. She handed the jar to Catrin as she applied some to the girls back and then stepped away so Catrin could finish the rest.
"It doesn't make a difference if I'm presentable, and how in Middle Earth do you always know what is on my mind?"
"Pft! You cannot hide anything from me! It is written all over that face of yours. It's always there – whatever it is you are thinking." Orva said matter-of-factly – taking the jar back from Catrin as she finished applying the oils. Catrin wanted to retreat from the realization that she was being unreasonable towards her father but it had always been in her nature to defy.
"He's worried I will embarrass him in front of the Marshall then?" She said solemnly.
"Catrin." Orva began but Catrin cut her off quickly.
"He left his own éored for me when mother died. He came here and took up his duties as a Lord and now he needs to prove himself worthy of such a duty to a man who could report to the King if need be."
"Precisely, but you could never embarrass your father Catrin. You're far too endearing for that!" Orva insisted. "You must remember that you are the only lady of the house. Help your father; do not add to his grays." She snickered at Catrin's roll of the eyes at calling her a lady, but she continued. "Lady Catrin, daughter of Lord Garberand and Lady Afentid, and descendent of the House of Gareth. You are no milk maid Catrin – be proud of who you are." She helped Catrin finish the braids in her hair and twirled them around the crown of her head to create a beautiful ring around her forehead as well. She then proceeded to help Catrin step into a beautiful plum-colored dress made of soft thin cotton and tied in the back by a silky, ivory-colored string.
"I am proud Orva, always." Orva smiled at Catrin's admittance and tightened the back of the dress to fit smugly against the girls toned figure – pulling her breast plump and flattering her petite but muscular form. She suddenly frowned when she realized her words to Catrin were a lie. Catrin was no descendent of the House of Gareth. She was not even a child of a Rohirrim man. She was never meant to be here – she was not meant to be a Lady of Freyden, but she was and her secret ancestry would always remain as such, a secret. "Orva, you're pulling a little too tightly."
"Yes, need to make sure you're common vigor doesn't cause this too loosen on you – that would truly be a sight your father would never want to see!" Before Catrin could laugh, horns sounded from the gates. She freed herself from Orva's grasp as soon as she finished lacing up the dress and dashed to the window. "Ah, so they have arrived. My luck, you are ready in time. We should head to the courtyard to meet your father." Catrin nodded as her eyes widened at the mass of men and horse came ascending over the hill before the gates. Many started to disperse along the perimeter of the town to make camp but a small company of men broke off and continued down the dirt road toward Freyden's gates. Her excitement was overwhelming as she imagined the adventures the men had been on and decided she might find her way to the fields to listen to their stories if possible. "Catrin." Orva warned.
"Coming!" Catrin sprinted past Orva, ignoring her scolding remarks at the unladylike display.
By the time she reached the courtyard in front of the stairs – that led up to the Hall of Freyden – her father was waiting for her with most of the household. All were lined up, facing south towards the gates. "Ah, Catrin I was beginning to worry." Lord Garberand slightly chided as she took her place beside him. Orva had finally caught up with her and descended the stairs to take her place with the household. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you father."
"Breeches are still very becoming on you though." He winked at her and she laughed as another horn sounded ahead of them. The men on horseback were adorned grandly in maroon cloth and beautifully crafted armor. She knew they were all of high ranking as they descended from their horses. The riders of the Mark were never poorly dressed but the added golden detailing to their breastplates were unique to them alone. "Welcome brothers!" Lord Garberand bellowed, his arms outstretched in an inviting manner. The small company of men in front of him handed the reins of their horses to the awaiting grooms and walked forward to be greeted properly. One man in particular stepped in front of the others to meet Garberand first.
"Garberand, my old friend, it has been too long!" The man in question removed his helmet as he spoke – a full head of white hair came forth and a man older than her father smiled a slightly yellow-stained smile.
"Ah! Beorn, too long indeed!" Garberand agreed and embraced his old friend.
"Let me introduce you to Lord Éomer, son of Théodwyn and Éomund, belonging to the House of Eorl, and Third Marshall of the Riddermark." Beorn put his arm out and motioned towards the already approaching man. Lord Éomer had already removed his helmet and was moving to greet Garberand before Beorn had even begun the introduction. He was a strong man, with dark eyes, tanned skin, and full, wavy, blonde hair. His presence was strong and intimidating. In Catrin's opinion, she found there to be nothing gentle about this man.
"Lord Éomer." My father bowed his head in respect. "Welcome to my home. It is an honor to receive you and your men."
"The honor is mine Lord Garberand, from one Marshall to another. I appreciate your hospitality greatly." Éomer responded shook Garberand's hand firmly. "Unfortunately, this visit is not one of pleasure, but of great urgency. We have much to discuss with you, which, is why Sir Beorn has joined the ranks yet again." The suggestion in his voice was strongly foreboding and it made Catrin's heart heavy at the hint of something dreadful.
"Of course, I will have you settle your men and then we will have the meal started immediately." Éomer nodded in agreement and continued to introduce his remaining Captains. Finally, after shaking many hands, Garberand returned to his place next to Catrin. "My Lord, I would like to introduce you to my daughter, Catrin."
Catrin bowed and slightly dipped her knees as Éomer approached. He reached out, grasped her hand, and bowed his head; "My Lady," he whispered and kissed the back of her hand. His hand was strong and rough but still smooth in ways – as if the calluses he bore had been pressed.
The touch was innocent enough but to Éomer his heart began to race the moment her eyes had pierced his own. He had never been so stricken before and it was unsettling. He lifted his face from her hand and backed away from her without meeting her eyes again. As he moved away, she continued to stare in admiration at the Marshall. All she could do was imagine the life he had lived through the land of Rohan. She wanted to hear his stories as well and live vicariously through them. She was oblivious to the man's sudden break in demeanor and almost did not realize that he had spoken again.
"Not to be hasty Lord Garberand but I would like to get settled as soon as it is convenient."
"Yes, right this way. Orva here will show you and your men to your quarters and then direct you to the dining hall when you have fully settled in." Garberand beckoned more of the household forward to help with the rest of the men's belongings as Éomer started to follow Orva. He looked back at Catrin one last time and nodded one last time.
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