No copyright infringement intended.
Okay, so this is the censored version. If you want to read the full version, please go to my AO3 account (same name).
Please Enjoy!
-4-
Her father had been right. Time did seem to fly by, only halted by the odd incident that broke through the daily routine.
There was the time she was asked to prepare an entire feast by herself, with only a single day's warning.
Mildred nearly dissolved into tears the first time she heard she wasn't allowed to ask anyone for help. How was she supposed to know what a royal feast required?
She'd only been to one in her entire life. The one in her own honor, when she had arrived.
In the end, she hardly slept, managed to forget nothing important by some stroke of luck, and learned the hard way to accept both criticism and praise from all sorts of people.
One must understand that Mildred was keenly aware that she didn't have many admirers at court, despite her old, noble blood and her father's close ties to Théoden King.
Having to stand next to Lady Cwendar, a distant relative of the king, for what felt like an eternity, with her back straight and a smile attached to her face while middle-aged men told her pompously that she'd done "well - for such a young filly from the country" - well. It was tantamount to torture.
A special kind of torture.
But, in the end, Mildred learned not to take her own insecurities too seriously when they were repeated aloud by strangers.
Of course, then there was Éowyn.
At first, the young girl enjoyed having another female closer to her age living in the Golden Hall.
She liked talking to her at mealtimes, as far as she was allowed to attend the more formal ones at the same table as Mildred, and they spoke often of their respective Shieldmaiden training.
Their age difference was enough for them to go hours upon hours without seeing the other. Or not sharing the same interests, outside of weapons training and Éomer.
The latter topic proved especially explosive, once Éowyn found out that Mildred was to pledge her troth to her brother.
From one day to the next, Éowyn became ice cold and painfully correct in her manners towards Mildred, only seeking her out for the occasional spar.
Most likely because no one else treated her like an actual opponent when she was holding a weapon in her hand.
Mildred contained her sighs at this change in behavior, realizing that Éowyn was afraid of losing her brother to what essentially amounted to a stranger. Afraid of having to compete with her for Éomer's affection and attention.
Perhaps it would have never gone as far as it did if there was someone consistently giving Éowyn honest, unconditional attention and affection - other than her brother.
Things probably would have continued in this vein if there hadn't been Théodred's best friend, Erkenbrand.
Mildred sighed as she closed the heavy, leather-bound ledger. That had been her last chore for the day, as assigned by Lady Cwendar.
She disliked going over the household ledger with the passion of a thousand fiery suns.
There were no calculators, no Excel sheets to help keep track of everything.
Everything had to be done by hand and in mind. There was no room for error because parchment was expensive even at the best of times.
Béma protect her should Lady Cwendar discover a mistake!
Mildred locked everything away again, in its proper place. She would be lynched if something had been misplaced or, worse, gotten lost in one manner or another.
As she walked down the corridors to her chambers, she stretched, popping her spine. Thankfully, no one saw her do so.
Mildred considered her books - all of which she'd read too many times to count - and then her eyes fell on her bow.
Deciding it had been too long since she had gotten to use it, Mildred secured her quiver and slung her bow over her back.
As she walked to the archery range, she secured her vambraces.
Mildred shielded her eyes as she stepped outside of the Golden Hall, not having expected the sun to shine quite so brightly.
"...no place for a little filly like you!"
The taunting tone drew her attention to a small altercation halfway to the archery range.
Erkenbrand and a fidgeting Théodred stood opposite from a fuming Éowyn.
"Women can fight too!" Said blonde protested, face red with anger. And did she just stomp her right foot?
Mildred sighed inwardly, but decided to help Éowyn out. At least to even the numbers.
Unfortunately, Erkenbrand had recently started growing his first fuzz and thought he was the authority on all things weaponry and manliness ever since he'd received his first blessing.
Even more unfortunately, he still hadn't managed to figure out that attacking a child - even if Éowyn protested this appellation, it would remain true until she received her own moon blessing - would result in harsher punishment than before he'd received that horse on his wrist.
"Battle is no place for a woman, much less a weak little girl like you! You should stay home and finally learn to behave like a lady. But you can't go home, can you?"
Alright, that's enough!
Within two long strides, Mildred had crossed the space between herself and Erkenbrand, swung back her fist, and drilled it into his stomach. Hard.
She had her fists stemmed into her hips, glaring death at the downed teenager.
"So, we 'young fillies' are weak, eh? Did that feel like a feather to you, Erkenbrand?" Mildred almost hissed in her anger. "If I hear you taunt anyone else about their home or family ever again, that hit will feel like a gentle tap in comparison. Do you understand?"
Erkenbrand hastily got back on his feet, pale as a sheet. One hand remained pressed to his stomach, and he was staring at her with wide eyes.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes, my lady," he pressed out from behind his teeth.
"Good. Run along now. Éowyn and I have to sort out an archery competition I intend to win."
Somehow, she managed to terrify the poor prince that day, because he avoided her as much as possible whenever he could. Or started stuttering some sort of excuse when she asked him a question.
Which, by Béma, did not happen often!
Although Mildred suspected that Éowyn's newfound friendship was the main reason behind this strange turn of events more than anything she herself had done.
The girl followed her around as much as her teachers allowed, trying to imitate the way Mildred dressed or wore her hair. She even went so far as to ask whether her hair could be dyed the same color!
That startled Mildred enough to stop their sparring session and lead Éowyn to her chambers.
"Sit down," she told her gently, pointing to her bed.
Éowyn sat. Gingerly.
"May I ask why you want to be as much like me as possible? For, while flattering, it is worrying me to what extent you are feeling this way."
Defiant blue eyes, so unlike her brother's, met Mildred's own as Éowyn jumped up, pacing the room.
"You are strong. Even Erkenbrand respects you! You are beautiful and lady-like and yet you can still best me at spars or with a bow. Lady Cwendar praises your achievements to the King and that woman does not hand out praise lightly -"
Mildred pulled the younger blonde into a tight embrace.
"Oh, Éowyn. I'm sorry if anyone gave you the impression that it would be better for you to be me. You, dear heart, are as you should be."
They stood like that for a long moment.
Then Mildred winked down at the sniffing child who was to become her sister within a few years' time.
"If you ever see my parents, ask them what I was like when a small filly of a girl. I'm sure they would easily recall a mud-splattered, shrieking beast who loved to wrestle with her older brother whenever possible. Hilda, my old nurse, despaired over me ever growing into a young lady of any worth, for I snuck out of the nursery whenever it suited me."
Éowyn's eyes had grown wide, her mouth dropped open a little.
"But, but - Mildred, you are such a fine lady!"
In lieu of saying anything right away, Mildred sat on the bed once again, petting the spot next to her.
"Well, I like to think that others believe so. However, did you ever hear why I was sent here?"
One blonde head shook, although its owner snuggled readily enough against her.
Mildred grinned. "Hilda caught your brother and me in a rather unseemly position in an abandoned corridor. Nothing truly inappropriate was happening - your brother is too honorable for that - but we were seen kissing each other."
Éowyn gasped, too sheltered to have ever heard of such a thing before.
"It was decided that we needed to be separated, no matter what the King might decide. Naturally, your brother tried to take the fall for a decision we both made," here Mildred shook her head, rolling her eyes.
"You sacrificed yourself?" Éowyn sounded part scandalized, part awed.
"As if learning from Lady Cwendar and earning your friendship is a sacrifice," Mildred protested, amusement clear in her voice. "But, yes, I suppose, leaving was my choice. Éomer was sent to be apprenticed to Father for good reason after all. In the grand scheme of things, I considered myself less important than your brother's studies."
Mildred gently combed he fingers through Éowyn's hair, waiting for the younger girl to think about what she'd been told.
"Don't you miss your family?"
"Sometimes," she readily admitted. "I have quite a number of younger brothers, but only one sister. Baldwyn is a few years my junior and she is shy. Easily hurt, sometimes, and also easily forgotten among our boisterous herd of brothers. Baldwine and I, my older brother that is, we were the only ones who paid her any attention worth mentioning. I'm afraid that she is quite lonely, for she does not have the same close friendship with any sibling that you and I may enjoy with our elder brothers."
Éowyn's lips turned downward as a frown appeared on her face.
"Boys are stupid."
That earned her a laugh from Mildred.
"Well, some exceptions must be made, but yes. Now, do you see that no one is perfect and it is quite alright for you to be yourself?"
Éowyn nodded, mischief sparkling back to life within her eyes.
"Good."
After that, Éowyn returned to being her unruly self, much to the dismay of her tutors. However, she eventually conceded to learning the arts necessary for ladies of worth to know.
It helped that Mildred showed her how to kill an unwanted suitor (read: stalker) with an embroidery needle stabbed into strategic places.
Time flew by again, until Lady Cwendar found her one morning in late fall.
Mildred looked up from the shirt she was sewing, to be given to one of the poor.
Lady Cwendar settled herself into a chair opposite from Mildred, looking as harrowed as she ever allowed herself to look.
"Théoden King has just shared with me that Lords Éomer and Baldwig are expected in two days, unless some obstacle holds them up. We are to organize a feast in honor of Lord Éomer's return."
Mildred sat up straight, trying to somehow manage the stream of excitement flooding her veins. "Lord Éomer is returning?"
That earned her a fond look from Lady Cwendar.
"Alongside your father, yes."
Mildred tried to not bounce up and down in her chair. "I shall do my best to help, Lady Cwendar."
"Very good. I shall speak to Cook and arrange the food. Would you be so kind to take care that we have enough ale and wine for the feast? After that you might take Lady Éowyn and oversee the cleaning of the Great Hall."
Mildred just nodded along, distracted by her thoughts flying from the feast to finally seeing Éomer again back to the feast and so on.
The teen returned to the present when Lady Cwendar exclaimed over the state of her wardrobe: "Sweet Béma! Child, you've surely outgrown your good gowns once again! Speak to the seamstresses and order a new one for the feast - the old ones would be most unseemly."
Blushing, Mildred nodded. "Yes, my Lady."
Predictably, Éowyn was over the moon at the prospect of getting to see her brother again, although she couldn't resist teasing Mildred a bit when the older girl almost forgot to order the tapestries cleaned.
But none of the servants took offense; most of the older ones couldn't hide their indulgent smiles quick enough.
The seamstresses just nodded knowingly when Mildred muttered something about her old dresses being a bit too tight to be appropriate and promised to finish her new concoction in time for the feast.
Mildred felt a bit bad about the sleepless nights the woman and her assistants were likely going to suffer through just to fulfill that promise.
As soon as she heard the familiar commotion of horses arriving with their riders, Mildred was off, running toward the entrance.
Just before she could be seen by anyone that counted, she forced herself to slow down into a quick walk and straightened her hair and dress.
Hoping she looked somewhat presentable, despite having spent some time with Cook in the kitchens, making sure that everything was right on track for the commencement of the feast, she stepped forward.
Mildred's eyes flew over the freshly arrived and partly dismounting riders, gifting her father with a quick smile when she found him, but she wasn't overly interested in greeting him yet.
No, that honor went to another.
Only the hundreds of eyes watching her every move kept Mildred from running over and hugging the stuffing out of her betrothed.
As she came to a stop in front of him, she noticed that he'd grown. Height-wise and also his shoulders. His hips had narrowed, or so it seemed.
Éomer was watching her just as intently as she him, a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze.
"Welcome home, my Lord," Mildred said, biting her lip in an attempt to control the massive grin that wanted to break out on her face.
Something eased in him and Éomer's shoulders lowered slightly as the tension left them.
"It's good to be home, my Lady."
Mildred beamed at him, knowing he had missed her just as much as she him.
Later, once everyone had rested and refreshed themselves, the feast commenced.
Mildred greeted her father with a fleeting hug and they were seated next to each other at the head table, but she barely spoke a word to him.
To be honest, she was a bit distracted.
By Éomer.
He looked delicious. Under the road dust hid a nice tan and oh, sweet Béma, had he always had those cheekbones? Or had he had some baby fat left to disguise it the last time they'd seen each other?
His eyes were positively glowing in the dim light, following her more often than not.
For the first time in her life, Mildred experienced a difficulty speaking in company. She couldn't follow the conversations around her. Or sit still, for that matter.
After the eating was done, the musicians began to play dancing music.
Of course, Erkenbrand asked her to stand up with him as soon as possible.
Mildred wasn't sure why the boy had decided to treat her like a queen after she punched him, but he jumped at every chance to help her or compliment her or dance with her.
Knowing it would be rude to decline, she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.
Éomer didn't look happy at all, although to most people the small frown on his face didn't look like the outrage it represented.
At least that much hadn't changed - Mildred could still read his expression like a book.
Their eyes met as Mildred was turned, glowing amber and bottomless midnight blue.
Eventually, the dance ended and Erkenbrand politely brought her back to her place at the table.
This time, Éomer was waiting for her, holding out his hand in a silent offer of the next dance.
As they passed her father, both could hear his chuckles.
At least Lord Baldwig found something to be amused about. Or he was already starting to get drunk.
Always a possibility with the way Eorlingas celebrated.
Béma! Mildred had missed dancing with Éomer.
They almost knew before the other moved where they'd go. Not always, of course. There had been some truly spectacular mess ups where they'd almost crashed into each other, but Mildred knew that she was safe in following Éomer's lead.
He wouldn't let anyone else try to 'trip' and break his fall against her. Most often conveniently close to her butt. Or try to tease open the laces of her bodice, to expose her in front of the court.
(Which had been attempted once. And only once.)
Instead, Éomer was careful with her.
Mildred couldn't help herself - the entire time they were dancing together, she was beaming at him.
As the song ended, Éomer escorted her away from the table and their respective guardian, to the city outside.
As soon as they were far enough away that the noise of celebration was dampened, Éomer broke out into a run, toward the archery range.
Mildred didn't hesitate to follow suit.
They skidded to a halt in the far corner, out of breath and red-cheeked.
Mildred got her bearing back first and jumped into Éomer's arms, wrapping her own around his neck and her legs around his waist.
"Sweet Béma, I missed you so much -"
She was interrupted by his lips.
Mildred closed her eyes, sighing a bit as the last bit of tension left her.
Éomer seemed to grin under her, nipping her lip and slipping his tongue into her mouth. His hands buried themselves in her hair as best as they could, considering the thick braid.
Mildred didn't even think of resisting, but she tightened her hold on him.
A few of her fingers tugged at his own hair tie, loosening it so his blond locks fell into his face, sheltering them from curious onlookers.
They separated once the need for oxygen became too great.
Mildred slid down his body, grinning and biting her slightly swollen lip when she noticed that their kissing had had a rather noticeable effect on him.
Éomer was panting a bit, like she herself, and leaned his forehead against her own.
"Béma, Mildred!" He muttered, eyes closed.
They opened a moment later when she stroked a small scar she hadn't seen before.
"It was a training accident," he explained readily enough. "You've grown."
To emphasize his meaning, he squeezed her breasts gently.
She slapped his arm lightly, playfully, and stole a quick kiss. "Says the right one. If anyone has grown, especially recently, it's you."
A light blush covered those lick-worthy cheekbones.
"Don't you dare apologize! Now, where were we?"
Mildred didn't wait for him to reply, but stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his middle, eyes glinting in the moonlight.
"Because I don't know how you feel, but I missed this."
He sighed softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Béma, Mildred, I couldn't stop thinking about you."
"Good."
With that, Mildred closed the distance between their mouths again and cheekily nibbled on his lip. When a soft moan escaped him, it was her turn to ravish him.
Éomer's eyes fluttered shut again, hands wandering to her bum and pulling her flush against him by her buttocks.
Mildred gasped, grinding against him. She could feel her nipples rub against the woolen chemise she was wearing under her dress, almost too sensitive for the slight scratchiness.
"Mildred," Éomer rasped out, "do you want to stop?"
The redhead in question took a deep breath, allowing Éomer to put his arms around her in a hug. A chaste hug.
"No, I don't. Do you?"
He shook his head. "Never. However, I do not wish to dishonor you either."
Well, she could work with that. "Éomer, haven't you ever taken care of yourself before?"
The flushed cheeks made a reprise appearance. But he nodded.
"Would it be alright if I took care of you tonight?"
Even in the darkness, Mildred could tell that his pupils were blown wide enough they almost swallowed his iris whole.
Éomer swallowed heavily, squeezing her a bit.
"Only if I may 'take care' of you tonight, fire."
"Well, you know," sharp inhale, "what they say," light gasp, "don't play with fire," biting her tongue to keep in the moan, "you'll get burned," she said, rather breathily, because his mouth was wandering further down her neck, intermittently kissing and licking the sensitive skin there.
The husky noise he made, which ordinarily would have been a chuckle, sounded downright indecent against her heated skin.
A tug and her hair fell free, near exploding outwards as her braid dissolved.
- MISSING SCENE ON AO3 - MISSING SCENE ON AO3 -
It was probably a very good thing they would be missed soon - if they weren't already - and had to hastily get all their clothes back into order.
And to prevent any unwanted consequences, it was lucky that they had enough sense not to completely consummate their relationship. And that Éomer's stay was to be a short one.
The only one until summer, when they'd meet again.