CHAPTER 9
Winter's hold cannot last forever
The day went on as the queen tried to oversee the people pouring in to the town from farms near and far. The news of orcs had swept across her kingdom like wildfire and left people in fear. Particularly those who lived on the outskirts of the land, close to the borders.
At request she received reports from the food stores with growing concern. Not only was there the question of housing all these people but they were running short on supplies and with lessened number of people seeing to the farming they were certainly not going to receive nearly enough to feed them all. She was still upset from the events of that morning and was grateful that commander Malíec had whereabouts elsewhere while she had tried her best to avoid running into Éomer in the halls of the manor. Trying to stay busy with important tasks at hand she managed to push her annoyance away.
That night she asked to eat her supper in her bower. This was not an unusual request coming from her but the look on Alise's face told her that her maid understood more of the situation than she would have liked. As always though, Alise did not utter a word and simply did as she was asked.
Spooning up the broth she sat in front of the fire in her sitting room, pondering what she was to make of everything that had happened over the last weeks. The crackling of the wood burning had a calming effect on her. She had changed into a more comfortable garb of soft dark green wool and her hair was loosely hanging over her back without ornamentations. She pushed the half emptied bowl away and pulled her feet up under her and leaned back in her chair. Watching the flames dance for her, the loneliness once again surrounded her. She thought of her father and how she would have wished him here during those grim days ahead. She thought her own wisdom insufficient in comparison. The weight of her responsibility laid heavy on her shoulders as she tried to examine every possible outcome in her mind. Her people were no warriors, skilled farmers and craftsmen they were, but put a sword in their hand and they would be at loss. Centuries of peace and isolation does not build armies worthy of such a cause. Her heart sank with the setting sun.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a discreet knock on her door. After she had granted permission, which was customary for her bower in particular, Alise stepped in.
'Your Highness, Lord Éomer is requesting to see you. He is outside.' She said.
Aema looked over the room as if to make sure it was in order. 'What would you like me to tell him?' Alise continued. 'Shall I tell him you will see him elsewhere?' This she added since she knew the queens feelings about her bower. This was no place for gatherings or audiences, this was her private sphere to where only a few were welcome. To her surprise the queen answered;
'Show him in Alise.' Her maid quickly gathered the tray with her supper, curtsied and out the door she went. Mere moments later a short, firm knock was heard followed by Éomer entering her room.
As he stepped inside Éomer was greeted with the intimate setting of the bower. The lighting was dim, mostly beaming off of the fire except a chandelier lit on a table. At first he did not see her, still in her chair with her back to him. To his discomfort he could see the foot of her four-poster bed through the open door on the far wall and his presence in the room felt improper. He spotted her and cleared his throat, awaiting a proper response from the queen who was still turned away from him. He received none.
'My lady?' Éomer slowly walked around to face her and when he did, he saw she was intently watching the dancing flames of the hearth.
'My lady, may I?' He gestured for the chair next to hers. Her eyes did not as much as flicker. Hesitantly, he sat down and fell silent for a time. The queen, who had spoken to her people with such composure and who had left two hard soldiers dumbfounded just earlier the same day, now seemed far away where she sat with her arms around her knees and her feet tucked in under her skirts.
'What urgency brings you here tonight?' Aema spoke at length. Her voice sounded disturbingly indifferent.
Her voice startled Éomer and he looked up just in time to catch her slow shifting of focus. Her gaze now rested on him and the fire was reflected in the tears that still clung to her lashes in an attempt to conceal themselves. She studied him as intently as she had studied the fire mere moments ago and said nothing. This made him slightly ill at ease.
'I wished to see that you were..' The look on her face made him trail off and leave the words unsaid.
'Safe?' She said and Éomer couldn't hold her eyes but looked down. 'Yes, my Lord,' she continued in a dangerously slow voice. 'I understand it is indeed your duty to do so.' She turned her focus back on the fire. Again they fell into an awkward silence that lasted for a time.
'Why do you refuse those who hold you dear to shelter you from harm?' Éomer said. 'It is neither duty nor burden.' The silence filled the room once more.
Aema repositioned herself on her chair, putting her feet back on the floor and placing her arms on the chair's armrests as she finally spoke;
'Many a times did I find solace on Lord Aragorn's knee as a child. He would stroke my cheek and dry it from tears no matter the cause. Often he made me forget my every trouble.' Éomer listened intently.
'However,' she continued. 'the yearn for Lord Aragorn's protection is long gone. I buried that little girl when I buried my father. All that I once held dear now rests in earth's embrace. My heart holds only the memory of them and a never-ending winter.' She rose and slowly walked over to the window facing north.
As she was standing there looking out over the landscape obscured by night, Éomer could see how she discreetly swept her hand over her cheek as to wipe the tears that had finally lost their grip and fallen.
'My people are in despair,' she said. 'The echo of my heart is of small matter.' She paused and Éomer just watched her from his chair in silence.
'Though never has dawn seemed further away than this night.' She said quietly.
Éomer rose and walked up behind her.
'My lady. To desire companionship is no sign of weakness, only souls blackened by evil do not carry such longings.' She bowed her head as if his words had pained her. 'Grieve your dead but know you are not forsaken.'
She turned around to face him at his words. Her eyes betrayed her for he could clearly see the traces of her sadness. Carefully he reached out and stroked her hair.
'Winters hold cannot last forever.' He said and took her hand to his lips as he bowed and then walked out of her bower, leaving her standing there, looking at the door closing behind him.
