CHAPTER 7

The Great Western Road

They had rounded the eastern foothills by now. Making it west along the western road and the sun had just tipped over its peak when Aema asked Éomer;
'Love may I ride with you instead?'

Éomer was surprised. She had her own steed and she had preferred riding him even whenever the two of them rode out for pleasure. But he was not to deny her, whatever her reasoning may be.

Swiftly she had halted Ar, dismounted and Éomer secured Ar's rains to Firefoot's saddle before Aema, with his assistance climbed up in front of him in his saddle.

'What of this, my love? I thought you preferred your own saddle as to sitting uncomfortably before me?'

'Tiredness just came upon me Éomer. I am so weary I could barely keep my eyes open. It was either this or halt the whole funeral procession which seemed a dishonorable thing to do for a ladies nap.'

'You might not yet have fully recovered then? Or did you not gain much sleep last night?'

'It does seem like I'm still under the Gondorian sniffles. And no, I found it hard to find peace in that terrible cot of mine.' she smiled.

'Then sleep min'litha. I shall hold you.'

She leaned against Éomer's shoulder and he secured his arms around her. Soon the steady rocking of Firefoot's steps had put Aema to sleep. He glanced down. Her face seemed pale, and she was breaking out in a slight sweat at her temples. She was breathing deep, calm breaths but every exhale caused a whistling sound out of her nose. Éomer noticed that Firefoot's ears flipped back every time she made the noise and it made him smile. A smile soon clouded by worry. She felt so hot against his body. Given that it was a sunny day in high summer, it was fever that caused her heat, not the season. She was not letting on how down she felt. But it was nevertheless revealed to him through her weariness.

For hours they rode, and Aema slept. She would stir in his arms only to reposition herself and then find her way back into a deep sleep. She did not wake until they halted for camp that eve.

'Is the sun already declining?' she said seeming a little confused as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

'Aye, you have sleeping for hours on end. Now come,' Éomer slid off of Firefoot's back and held up his arms to catch her as she came after. He put her down then laid a hand upon her cheek. 'You are still warm with fever.' he said. She waved him off. 'I need only to wash myself off and I shall be fine. If you pardon me I shall find Alise and a washcloth.' She smiled at him and was gone. Éomer pondered speaking with Aragorn about the matter, but she seemed in good spirits after all. Since he knew it would likely invoke her anger, he decided to hold off on that conversation.

After breaking camp the next day, Éomer and Aema once more rode next to each other, making small talk to pass the time. The landscape had changed before them as they slowly made their way along the great western road.

Aema suddenly grew pale atop Ar's back. Éomer was oblivious to the change at first. He kept speaking and it was not until she failed to answer him that he looked over and saw her struggling.

She was breaking out in a sweat, and as he called for her attention she seemed not to hear him. With a loud voice and his hand raised in the air he commanded the train of riders to come to a halt. Ar halted too, not because she stopped him but because when the fellow horses did, so did he. The tall, dark steed stretched his neck thus freeing the rains from Aema's hands and shook his head lazily before bending down to nibble on the dried grass that ran along the middle of the road. Aema slumped in the saddle as Éomer in one swift motion dismounted Firefoot and with quick steps rounded Ar to be by her side. As he looked up at her, her eyes fluttered and her head rolled back, all color disappeared from her face just before her body slid out of the saddle. He caught her falling body into his arms. Her head hung limp over his arm. He crouched down with care. Calling for the men around him to bring him something to put underneath her head as he lowered her down on the ground. She was yet unresponsive.

'The queen as fallen ill! We will make camp!' he commanded. Eothain who stood close hesitated.

'My Lord, a few leagues down the road is a field preferable for making camp.'

'Fine, go there, make camp!' Éomer barked without taking his eyes off of Aema.

'Aye, My Lord.' said Eothain and went off to carry out his orders. Éomer stroke Aema's cheek with a glove clad hand.

'Aema...' she did not move. 'Aema, can you hear me?' Suddenly she moved. She brought her hand to her face and her eyes opened slightly with a groan.

'Éomer... what happened?'

'You fainted, dear. Here let me help you.' he took her in his arms and Aema laid her arms around his neck as he got up and carried her away from road and the midst of the horses. He placed on the grass, behind a big rock, carefully helping her to lean up against it. She sighed, planted her elbows on her pulled up knees and rubbed her face in her hands.

'My love, we must see to your illness. You barely eat. You barely sleep. I am concerned. We are yet days away from Edoras. I will not have you ride the distance under these circumstances.'

'Oh?' she said with a sigh. 'Well I can't very well stay here, can I? No matter how I am faring, love. I must make it to Edoras. All I need right now is some water.'

He loosened the water pouch from his belt and handed it to her, she drank big gulps of it before lowering the pouch. Éomer's eyes never straying from her face. She met his gaze and tried to offer him a reassuring smile.

'I am well Éomer, or well enough. Do not concern yourself.'

'Concern myself? You just fell off your horse. Had I not been there to catch you, you would have hit the ground hard. I will not have that happen.'

She smiled at his words.

'Such is your destiny it seems, Éomer, King of the Riddermark, to catch this queen whenever she falls.'

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her forehead with his warm lips.

'Are you certain?'

'Aye, I shall be fine, love.'

'You must tell me if this illness comes upon you again. Do not struggle alone. This I command if you are to get back up on that horse of yours.' she chuckled at his words.

'Aye Éomer King, who am I to defy you? I shall let you know if weakness finds me again. You have my word.'

'Once we make camp though my love, I shall speak with Aragorn.'

She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off, 'Ah,' he raised his hand in a gesture for her to stop. 'I will have none of it.' he continued. 'This has been going on for days, you shall receive no more moments to recover. We will take his consult and that is the end of it!'

Aema looked at him sourly as she again drank from his water pouch.