Chapter 4 – New Seasons

A couple of months later, spring was on its way. The harsh winds and drifts of snow began to disappear, little green shoots of grasses and herbs began sprouting on the plains, and the sun seemed warmer and stayed out longer. Inside Meduseld, things seemed to be on the mend, but compared to the waxing season it was slower going.

Eomer had finally come out of his room, a few days after the burial. He had looked haggard, after many days of sleeping potions and medicines to help him sleep without nightmares. But after almost a week had passed, he had begun to feel better. He had known that something must be improving, for he actually craved a conversation with someone, anyone, instead of the solitude of an empty room.

Part of the reason why was Maerdwyn, who had finally come in the room on the fourth morning of his self-imposed isolation, bearing with her the infant Elfwine. She had laid him carefully in his fathers arms, while a bewildered looking Eomer had looked down upon his son, unsure of what next to do.

Elfwine was the perfect baby. He rarely cried, his eyes, while still unfocused, were intensely curious of the world around him. When Eomer had looked down at his son, barely a week old, a lock of hair had fallen over his shoulder and into the babes face. Elfwine had reached a chubby hand forward when the strands had drifted across his nose, grabbed a handful and yanked with all his baby might.

Eomer's head had jerked forward, and an audible "Oooof!" from his lips had made Elfwine giggle in delight. Eomer had stopped moving, looking at his laughing son, and the biggest smile Maerdwyn had seen in days cracked his face almost in two. He had brought his son to his shoulder, caressing him and murmuring something she could not understand into Elfwines ear. Elfwine had cooed and giggled and yanked on his hair some more before Maerdwyn had taken him away from his father to take him to his wetnurse.

That afternoon Eomer emerged for the first time, looking tired, but trying to put a brave face on for the sake of those others in the mead hall, walking by a few people, trying to smile. Everyone treated him with much more sympathy than before. They talked more quietly, and more than once someone had stopped the conversation altogether, when they realized it was going in an unpleasant direction, usually something to do with the queen.

Eomer found that he did not like it. To be treated and spoken to like he was a piece of glass about to fall over the edge of a table. His stubborn streak, akin to his sisters, rebelled against the behavior of his fellows, and he vowed to himself, in the quiet, lonesome hours of the night, that he would prove them wrong. He was not weak. He had loved his wife, yes, and he would miss forever her presence at his side, but he had a son and a people who needed him.

After he had made the oath, he had begun to wonder if this was how his uncle had felt when Elfhild, Theodens wife and the previous queen of Rohan had also perished before her time. Theoden had always been an inspiration to Eomer, a truly good and godly king whose subjects loved him for his deeds and actions, and not just because he had inherited a crown and title. Even after Grimas influence, the people had loved Theoden. Eomer planned to emulate him in every way possible. If Theoden could continue on, then so could he. Eomer only wished he would not have to see Elfwine killed as a young man, as with what had happened to Theodred.

As the spring days grew ever warmer, Eomer began to feel his spirits lift. There was a constant ache, somewhere deep in his chest, that he knew he would never be rid of, but he began to perform his duties much as he had before. The spring and summer planting schedules had been finished, thanks to Maerdwyn's help, and everywhere around Edoras all the way to the horizon one could see the seedlings sprouting from the fields, a rich and bright spring green that waved in the western winds.

Soon enough those seedlings would no longer bend in the wind, but would sink towards the ground as barley, wheat, oat and rye grain grew ripe and heavy. Grains and hay were the chief exported product of Rohan. They grew other things of course, apples, pears, other fruits and vegetables, but never enough for trade. Those were for only local use. In all other realms Rohan was known for two things in trade; horses and the grains used to feed them.

It was a point of pride for every Rohirrim. They were an equinary culture, more than a dozen generations stretching back to the crowning of Eorl and beyond, born and bred on horseback. There was an old Rohirric saying, 'A eored warrior is more naked without his steed than his sword' and it was true for many. It made sense that their chief agricultural product was one that benefited their mounts as well as them.

Eowyn and Faramir had left as soon as the heavy spring rains, and thus the threat of floods, had subsided. They were to dwell in Minas Tirith until early autumn, when they and half the courts of Rohan and Gondor would journey to the nearly finished town of Greenhills in Ithilien to attend their nuptials. It would also give Eowyn time to become more accustomed to Gondorian culture and etiquette.

Eomer had promised to attend. He would not miss his sisters wedding, and he had only seen Ithilien in passing when he had ridden through it towards the Battle of Morannon. He thought it would be nice to be able to see and explore it for a few weeks without the constant threat of war that had been in the air back then.

He began spending more time outdoors, oftentimes holding his council meetings out in the gardens behind the mead hall. Outwardly the reasoning was due to the beautiful spring weather, though most knew it was because of the times his wife had accompanied him into the council chamber to aide in the handling of matters of state. But no one said anything. The nice springtime air was enjoyable to be in, even if one had tedious scribe work and planning to do.

After a few months, when summer had come through full swing, it was far too hot outside for the meetings. Eomer reluctantly began holding them in the council chamber again, though he had Lothiriels chair removed from the room. He found that he could manage it, though he was not always in the best of moods when the daily meetings broke up.

When one of his sour moods came about, he spent much of his free time with his men on the training grounds just outside of the city walls. Sword, shield, spear, bow, he trained in them all and gave grueling duels and lessons to the other men and boys. It was often when he would come back to Meduseld after dusk, covered in sweat and dust, with barely enough energy to bathe and fall into bed.

He liked it that way. The more tired he was, the more deeply he slept, without dreams or need of the sleeping draught. He did not like the way the medicine made his head feel in the mornings, and soon after his reemergence into court he had ceased consuming it.

If his moods could not be quelled through training or wrestling with his soldiers, he would ride out onto the plains on Firefoot. Sometimes he would take little Elfwine with him, in a specially made leather carrying bag designed to be tied around the neck and waist to hang in the front. His son loved going riding with his father, and his little squeals of excitement always made an improvement to Eomers mood.

Sometimes Maerdwyn would join the two of them and the royal guard, in case Eomer wanted to be gone a long time and Elfwine needed feeding or changing. That was one aspect of parentage that Eomer was glad to leave to others. Blood and gore from battle he could handle, but if he could avoid baby spit-up and fouled diapers, he did so, to everyone else's amusement.

It was midsummer, halfway through June, when Eomer was nearly run into by an ecstatic Maerdwyn as she rushed from the nursery into the main room of the great hall. He caught her by the shoulder and kept her from fully colliding with him.

"By the gods, Maerdwyn, what has you rushing about like a Meara?"

She was excited, he could tell, but did not know what about. She reached out and grabbed his hand and all but dragged him towards the nursery.

"Maerdwyn, what is it? Is something wrong? What happened?" He felt a moments panic as a thought bloomed in his head that something had happened to Elfwine.

"Oh just come on, Eomer!" She said excitedly "I would not be smiling if something bad had happened!"

"Then why will you not tell me?" He asked, nearly tripping as his boot caught on the edge of a rug.

"Because!" She replied "This is something you need to SEE. I would do the event no justice if I just told you!"

Eomer sighed, but had to smile despite himself. Maerdwyn had gone above and beyond when it came to Elfwine, and for all the young babe knew, she was his mother. She changed him, bathed him, and fed him now that he was eating some more solid foods. She beamed as proud as any dam would at the accomplishments of her child.

Maerdwyn dragged him the rest of the way, and he was careful to avoid more rugs. They got to the door and she finally slowed down. She tiptoed to the door, then turned and whispered.

"Be very quiet when we enter. If he notices someone watching him he stops."

"Stops doing what?" He asked, but she only smiled and shook her head and nodded her head at the door.

"You will have to see, Eomer." And she quietly opened the door. Eomer peeked his head in, and he smiled in delight when he saw his son.

Elfwine was on the floor, but he was holding himself upright on all fours, precariously walking forward across the thick carpet of the nursery. He would wobble for a few seconds and then, when he had his balance, he would take off in a straight line on the fur carpet until one of the four limbs lost balance and he would tumble a few inches to the fluffy floor. He would then sit up, laughing his little baby giggle, and try the same maneuver again in a different direction.

Maerdwyn popped her head in a little under Eomers, and beamed up at him after Elfwines third crawling streak. They watched the small baby, both smiling until Eomer could not be silent anymore. He burst out laughing, followed by Maerdwyn, and Elfwine started, falling back on his rump. Eomer stepped into the room, leaving a laughing Maerdwyn in the doorway. He lifted his son into his arms, and Elfwine laughed as he recognized his father.

"Oh, my son! Look at you!" He bounced Elfwine up and down, and the babe continued to giggle. He reached out and grabbed a lock of his fathers hair, and yanked on it, then tried to put it in his mouth. Eomer laughed and pulled it away, tossing the hair behind his shoulder.

"No, son. My hair is not something to eat." Elfwine screamed happily, a high pitched squeal that showed his delight at seeing his father. He looked up at Eomer when the hair was suddenly gone.

"Papa!" He shouted.

Eomers face nearly broke as he looked in shock at his son.

"What did you say, Elfwine?" The babe looked up at him.

"Papa!" He said proudly.

"Maerdwyn!" Eomer said excitedly, and she came into the room from the doorway.

"He called me papa!"

"I believe it is his first word, Eomer. Up until now he has only been saying little nonsense words."

Eomer looked at her and smiled. "His first word! Oh thank you, Maerdwyn! If you hadn't brought me here I would have missed it!"

Maerdwyn smiled, and reached over to hug him and Elfwine, kissing the child on the forehead. He looked up at her, reaching out a chubby hand.

"Mama!"

Eomers face fell. His eyes shut for a moment as he tried not to look sad in front of his son. Maerdwyn looked at him apologetically, then glanced back at Elfwine.

"No, little prince. My name is Maerdwyn."

Elfwine looked at her, confused. "Mama?" He said again.

"No, Elfwine. Maerdwyn. Mare-dwin." She said her name slowly so he could hear how it was said.

"Mer-" he started, moving his mouth to imitate hers. "Mer-din?"

"Yes!" Maerdwyn said. Elfwine shook his head no, then reached for her again. "Mama!"

"Elfwine, no-"

"Maerdwyn, it is alright."

She stopped and looked at Eomer. "But I am not... It would not be proper..."

"You have been taking care of him every day since he was born. He will never know his mother but from stories we tell. I think it would be better if he had someone who could be as a mother to him." He looked sad, but serious of his words.

"But you." Maerdwyn said. "It would cause you too much pain. I could not..."

"Maerdwyn, he needs a mother too. And I cannot think of one more suited to the task than you. He should know a mothers love, and that is a thing that I cannot give him."

Maerdwyn's eyes grew wet, and she nodded silently. Then she reached over and took Elfwine from his fathers arms and hugged him. He put his chubby arms around her neck, and pressed his cheek to hers.

"Mama." He whispered quietly into her hair.

"Yes, Elfwine." She said, her voice trembling. "Mama."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

After his first crawling streak, Elfwine was unstoppable. Maerdwyn or one of the maids had to be with him constantly, else he would get himself into all types of mischief. By the time August had arrived, he was pulling himself upright with benches and tables and taking his first steps.

Eomer beamed with pride one day when he walked into the throne room. Elfwine was sitting on the steps leading up to the throne, playing with Maerdwyn, and he had looked up and seen his father.

"Papa!" He cried, standing and gripping Maerdwyns shoulder to stay up. His vocabulary had only improved a little bit, but 'papa' was his favorite because every time he said it Eomer would get very happy.

"Hello, my darling boy!" Eomer had replied, walking towards the end of the room.

"Papa!" Elfwine cried again, and so eager was he to see his father that he took a step away from Maerdwyn, letting go of her shoulder. She gasped as he let go, hoping he would not fall and hurt himself on the hard stone floor.

Elfwine took a few wobbly steps, arms outstretched towards his father. Eomer saw, and walked a few steps closer so that he was within a few feet of his son. He squatted down so he was eye level and reached out.

"Can you come to me, Elfwine?" He asked, gesturing with his hand, beckoning him to come closer, trying not to get too excited. He did not want to startle Elfwine into falling.

Elfwine saw this, and stepped closer, slowly, every step timid and wobbly. But he persevered, and crossed the four or five feet to his father, who swept him up into a big hug.

"Your first steps! Oh, my son I am so proud of you!" Eomer said, leaning in to give Elfwine a kiss on the cheek. Elfwine giggled and wrapped his arms around Eomers neck. Eomer spun him around in a circle, causing the boy to squeal with delight.

Maerdwyn rushed over, hugging both of them and kissing Elfwine on his forehead. "Oh you worried me, little prince! I thought you were going to fall!"

"But he did not!" Eomer said, full of pride at his son. He hugged them both, kissing his son again.

"Papa! Mama!" Elfwine shouted, he was full of excitement because of their reactions though he did not know why.

Eomer looked down at the woman, whose full attention was on Elfwine. Her cheeks were bright, and her eyes sparkled with pride as she looked at him.

She is as proud as any mother would be he thought, and smiled at the two in front of him. Maerdwyn had always been there for him, even when they were young. She had always been the one he or Eowyn could talk to, about anything. Especially when they had first come to Meduseld.

There had been no other children in the hall when they had first arrived. Theodred was already twenty four, done with his warrior training and had just been given the position of Second Marshal. There were no longer any nursemaids or governesses employed in the hall.

Maerdwyn had been there, she was five years old and kept to herself most of the time. She had a maid, and a tutor, but not really any friends in the big dwelling of the king. She had been very kind to both siblings, and soon enough the three were fast friends. There had been no other children in the manor of Lord Eomund either, and it was a nice experience for all of them to have someone around their own age.

It was not long before Maerdwyn and Eowyn had begun sneaking out dressed as boys to play with the other children, and a few years after that when they tried to train with the other youngsters at the practice fields.

They were caught, of course. One day Eowyn's little helmet had been knocked off by a blow from a wooden practice sword, and her long golden hair had tumbled out. Maerdwyn had rushed over to see if Eowyn had been hurt, taking off her own helmet and revealing herself as well. Hama, another Marshal and the soldier in charge of training, had marched them both back up to Meduseld, and Theoden had given them a stern lecture about sneaking about.

They had both pleaded with him, wanting to learn how to fight, idolizing the tales of the shield-maidens of their country. In the end, Theoden had relented, allowing them to train. But as punishment for sneaking off he had made them both wait more than a year, until Eowyn was twelve and Maerdwyn ten years old, before they could go back to the training field.

They had accepted the punishment. They had known that sneaking out would come back to them eventually, but they stoically bore the brunt of Theodens temper, because they would be allowed to train, and they knew any attitude on their parts would make the year-long wait even longer.

And when the year was over, less than a day after Eowyn's birthday, they had taken to it like fish to water. While they were smaller and slighter than most of their male companions, they held their own. When the other boys had been unwilling to fight them, they had goaded them relentlessly until they did.

Oftentimes the residents of Meduseld would be roused early in the morning by the sound of the two girls banging and clashing their wooden training swords in the garden, too eager to wait for noontime when their fellows met in the training field.

Eomer smiled as he remembered. When they had finally begun to grow into their womanhood, their fellow trainees had been even more reluctant to duel them. No one wanted to be the cause of an unsightly scar or disfigurement to either of the wards of the king, who were growing more beautiful by the day.

They had almost been as twins, both tall and golden-haired with fair complexions, though there were differences. Maerdwyns hair was the color of raw honey, darker and with more reddish brown tones than Eowyn's, and where his sisters eyes were the light gray of fresh forged steel, Maerdwyns were a deep green the same shade as fir trees. But both had strong, lithe forms, with lots of muscle strength under their curves. And they were fierce in both attitude and fighting prowess.

Eomer smiled at the memories as Maerdwyn took Elfwine from him and spun him about.

"Oh, my darling little prince! Your first steps! I am so proud of you!"

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" Elfwine kept repeating, caught up in the excitement.

Eomer smiled wider, seeing the pride that shone in Maerdwyns eyes as she looked at the small boy. It reminded him of better days, before two evils had come to their home and torn the three friends asunder. He frowned then.

"Eomer?" Maerdwyns voice drew him from the dark reverie. "What is wrong? Are you not proud of your son?"

"I am." Eomer said, then he put on a false smile and walked over to them. He tousled Elfwine's hair and kissed him. "I just remembered something that I said I would do for the council. If you will excuse me?"

"Of course! We would not want to keep you. Will we see you for supper?"

Eomer thought for a moment. "No. I will probably be out late. Could you have one of the cooks leave some bread and cheese in my room for when I am back?"

"I will do it myself as soon as I have Elfwine to bed. You usually come back after the cooks have gone home."

"Thank you." Eomer said, then turned and walked quickly away, leaving a bewildered Maerdwyn standing there holding Elfwine, wondering what had happened to suddenly turn the kings mood in a sour direction.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Eomer stalked out of Meduseld, making his way towards the royal stables. He was angry, and sad, and furious, and morose. A bundle of emotion that he did not know how to handle.

He entered the stables, going straight for the largest stall. Within, Firefoot was happily munching away at a bag of oats. The black Meara looked up when his master whistled, and came over to the gate, butting his nose into Eomers chest.

"Hello, boy." He said, stroking has hand down the stallions mane. "Do you feel like a good long ride today? I need to get away for a while."

Firefoot started nodding his head, and prancing in place and whinnying. Eomer opened the gate, going inside and taking his steeds tack from its place on the wall. He strapped it on, then hauled himself into the saddle. With a light touch to Firefoots sides, he burst from the stables and towards one of the three guarded gates that lined the walls of Edoras.

He went through the gate, telling the guard on duty his general whereabouts and where he would be going. He did not like that being necessary, but he was king now and could not simply leave and go where he wanted anymore.

He thundered through the gate, heading the the direction of the Snowborn River, not looking back. He did not see the small figure of Maerdwyn, bouncing a giggling Elfwine on her hip, as she stood on the terrace looking after him. Nor did he see the tears that flowed down her face.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

An hour later Eomer found himself almost to the foothills of the White Mountains, where the Snowborn found its source from melting snow and several clear sparkling streams. Oak and willow and pine grew in abundance here, so close to a source of water. It was a different landscape from the rolling, treeless plains of most of his realm. Eomer welcomed the change of scenery.

He was playing a scene out, over and over again in his head, from a decade earlier. Before Hrodgar and Grima had come out of the blue to ruin what could have been. He dismounted, letting Firefoot wander around grazing from the wild grasses that grew here.

He quickly stripped down to nothing but his underbreeches, and jumped into the small river. Despite it being summer, this close to its source the Snowborn was still icy cold from the icy melt waters from the higher elevations. He gasped as he fully submerged, but the shocking water helped to clear his head, even as it continued to play the scene over and over.

It was summer, hot and stifling with barely a breeze. Training has been called off for a few days; it was too hot to train in heavy metal armor. Two teenaged boys had already gotten sun fever from the heat.

Eowyn had suggested a good long ride and a picnic. Theoden had been against it, more and more orc sightings were being reported, and he thought it would be too dangerous. Only after Eowyn and Maerdwyn had pleaded, and promised to take Eomer with them as an escort and guard, did he grant his permission.

Eomer, also with nothing to do, had agreed simply out of boredom. When the young women had told him where they were planning to go, he had recanted the boredom. They wanted to go upriver, where the water was cold even in summer, have a picnic and do some swimming to gain a respite from the sweltering heat.

It was just past noon when they had arrived. They let their mounts run, while they spread out a sizeable picnic. They pulled out cold roasted meat, bread, cheese, and apples. Eowyn had even brought a bottle of Dorwinion wine, which she tied to a rope and put in the icy river. Within minutes it had gotten deliciously cold and refreshing.

"So, brother," Eowyn asked, as she tore off a hunk of the bread, "How goes your training? We heard a rumor yesterday, but we would rather hear the truth from you."

"And what rumor would that be, sister mine?" He had retorted, after slicing off a bit of apple. He popped it into his mouth and chewed. Maerdwyn answered.

"That soon a certain child of Eomund would be receiving the honorable position of Third Marshal."

Eomer looked at her with raised brows. The fifteen year old young woman was smiling at him, a mischievous glint in her green eyes.

"Word travels fast, apparently." He said "Uncle only asked me about it yesterday."

"Then it is true!" Squeaked Eowyn, jumping up and down. She leaned over and gave him a hug "Congratulations, brother!" He returned the hug.

Maerdwyn, too, was happy for him. "You will be one of the youngest men ever to be made a Marshal!"

"I have trained hard to earn the title." Eomer defended. "I have never missed a day of training!"

"Even if you were late sometimes, you sleepyhead!" Maerdwyn giggled at him.

"I still managed to wake up early enough most of the time. And I am fine with getting up early now."

"Well, yes, then I supposed that is alright then." She answered, laughing again.

Eomer looked at her again. She truly had grown to be a beautiful young woman. Nothing at all like the gangly-legged child he had first met when first he had come to Meduseld.

"I have you two to thank for that!"

"Oh, brother, whatever to you mean?" Eowyn asked, feigning ignorance.

"After the two of you began training, no one in the palace could sleep past sunrise! You two with all the loud ruckus and click-clacking of those bloody practice swords!"

"Well, we wanted to practice. The grown men had the field in the mornings, where else would we have practiced?"

"You always seemed to manage to be right outside my window!"

Maerdwyn frowned. "Well it is not OUR fault that your window is right by the gardens."

The two girls giggled. After a while they were done eating, and undressed down to their underdresses, and Eomer to his trousers, and jumped hooting and hollering into the icy river. It was refreshing after weeks of oppressive heat.

They swam around for a while, and then Eowyn wanted to go back to shore and rest. Eomer and Maerdwyn had stayed in the water whilst she napped in the sun.

They continued swimming, the slow movement of the smaller river slowly pulling them downstream. They had a splashing fight, to which both proclaimed themselves the winner, until it got too cold in the water.

"Eomer!" Maerdwyn called from across the river. He looked over at her, and gasped. She was standing knee deep in the water, her wet dress clinging to her form, the coldness of the river apparent in the two hardened nipples showing through the wet cloth. The sun was behind her, and outlined her form in a golden light. By the gods she was gorgeous!

"Eomer?" She called again, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and shivering.

"Uh... What?" He stammered, a little embarrassed that he had been caught staring.

"I am cold. I want to get out and walk. The river carried us downstream, we should be getting back to Eowyn."

"Uh... Yes, of course." He said, hauling himself out of the river. He was not cold, but if she wanted to walk in the sun and warm up, he could hardly stay in by himself. Besides, he would not mind walking beside her for a while.

They began walking side by side upriver, through the multitude of trees that grew along the banks. The wind had picked up, and soon Maerdwyn was shivering in her wet clothes.

"Are you cold?" He asked.

"A bit. That water was colder than i expected."

"The beginning of the Snowborn is cold all year, even in summer."

Maerdwyn smiled. "You would think I would remember that by now." She shivered again.

"But you are stubborn."

She laughed. "That I am."

A thought suddenly barged its way into Eomers head. Before he knew what he was doing, Eomer had stepped in front of her, and drawn her into an embrace.

"Eomer! What are you doing?" She cried. She put her hands up on his chest and pushed back a little.

"Trying to help you get warm. Unless you do not wish me to?"

"Well, um... No... But..."

"But what? You are cold, and I am trying to warm you up. Unless it is a problem?"

"Well... No..." She stammered, a little embarrassed and unsure of what to do.

"Well then." He said, and he drew her closer to his chest. She did not resist, and he rubbed her shoulders and back, using the friction to try and warm her.

After a while she stopped shivering. Her dress was only slightly damp now, the sharp wind having dried most of it. She looked up at him and sighed.

"Thank you, Eomer." She said, smiling up at him.

"You are most welcome."

"Are you going to let me go now?" She said, smiling wider.

A mischievous look went through his eyes and he grinned. "No. I do not think I will."

His grip tightened when she tried to pull away. It was hard to do, her hands were between her chest and his, very effectively pinned.

"What are you doing?"

"Is it not obvious?"

"I can get away from you, you big brute!"

"Is that a challenge?" He asked, his eyes twinkling with humor.

"Well... I... Um... Yes, it is!" She said, and she vehemently began squirming, trying to get her hands loose. He gripped tighter, hooking one hand around his wrist to strengthen his grip.

"Ugh! You brute!"

"I am only holding you. You are the one who cannot get loose."

"My hands are pinned!"

"Well then, you should have thought of that before accepting the challenge."

She glared at him, then very unceremoniously kicked him in the shin. He winced, and his grip loosened. She wiggled and her hands came free.

"Ow! That is not fair!"

She just looked at him, "Well then, you should have thought of rules before issuing your challenge." She said, flinging his previous words back into his face.

He laughed and tightened his grip again. She pushed against him with all her might, turning around and trying to kick off from the ground to get free. She was strong, but not as strong as he was, and she only succeeded in bouncing around, his grip not loosening in the least.

She cried out, frustrated, when he lifted her bodily into the air. Her feet were free of the ground and she had no leverage. She started kicking wildly into the air. She succeeded in unbalancing him, but he kept his grip as the two fell backwards, Maerdwyn landing on top of him.

"Ugh! Fine! Fine! You win!"

His arms loosened, and she pulled free of him. She turned around and glared at him. He was smiling proudly at himself.

"What do I win?"

"Oh you big brute!"

"That is not a prize for one to win." She looked unhappy, and flopped down next to him on the grass. She turned to him.

"I do not know. What would the new Third Marshal want?"

"This." He said, and before she could react he had leaned in and kissed her. It was quick, barely a peck, but the look of shock on her face when he was done almost made him burst out in laughter.

"What? Can a man not want a kiss from a beautiful lady?"

"Well... Um... No..." She smiled a little at him. "There is nothing wrong with it... But-"

"Good." He said, and he leaned in and kissed her again. This time the kiss was anything but chaste. It was deep, and long, and perfect, lips parting and tongues dancing. When he pulled away, they were both breathless. He reached up and put a hand on her cheek.

"That was better." She laughed and gaped at him.

"Well all the experience came from you! I have never kissed anyone before!"

He gaped back at her. "Truly? For one so inexperienced you kiss rather well." She scoffed and put her hands on her hips.

"And, pray tell, soon-to-be Marshal. Where did you get YOUR experience then?"

"Ah ah. That is for me to know. At least I use the talent well. Though I have never gone beyond kissing to be honest."

"That is hard to believe. A young man as handsome as you?"

"So you think I am handsome, do you?"

She looked a little embarrassed. "Well, uh... Yes, if you must know."

"And I have always thought you beautiful."

Maerdwyn blushed, and looked down. He reached out and took her chin in his hand. She looked up at him.

"You have no need to be shy. You are beautiful to me."

She blushed again, but leaned in and pecked him on the lips again. Then she stood up.

"We should be getting back to your sister, Eomer. We do not need her coming to look for us."

"If you insist." He said, hauling himself up from the ground. As Maerdwyn turned he caught her arm, and spun her around, capturing one last kiss before they went back to Eowyn, this time holding hands.

Eomer growled as he emerged from the icy river. This had been his place to go when he was feeling melancholy, to clear his head, after Maerdwyn had been hauled away into an arranged marriage by her father. Nothing bad had ever happened at this spot in the river. It had always been peaceful.

What would have happened if he had never done so? He wondered. Now that his wife was gone, some of the feelings he had held for Maerdwyn had resurfaced from the corner of his mind where he had long ago abandoned any hope.

He felt like he was betraying Lothiriels memory. He did not even know exactly how he felt where Maerdwyn was concerned, only that when he was a much younger man, more than a decade ago, he had felt something.

He had allowed Maerdwyn to stay in Meduseld at Eowyns request, after the death of her despicable father and her husband. She had become friends with his wife even, her head lady in waiting. He had been so angry with her for leaving, it felt as if she had betrayed him, but he could not turn her away when she had no family and no land. Despite his anger at her, he could not turn her out into the cold.

In a way, she had betrayed him. After their first kiss, he had been sent on raid after raid, and scout after scout, sometimes gone for weeks or months at a time, having only a few days rest in Edoras full of war councils and battle planning before he left again.

When he had returned from one trip, he had found his sister weeping, and Maerdwyn gone, off with her father to marry that stuffy Lord Baeor. He had been so full of rage he had destroyed the dresser in his room, overturning it and rendering into many splintery pieces. He had felt as if his heart had been ripped in two.

What was he to do now?