Sup People, first of all many an apology to all you readers for the tardiness of this chapter, it's been kinda hard lately to focus and there are many details to work out in this story, so it's complicated like that. Also, I speak UK English, that's why I spell honour with a u, but feel free to correct me should you find any mistakes. This chapter is a longie, so enjoy! It took forever to type out, ugh. It is also long, because the protagonists get it on again in this chapter, if you don't like it, switch to a milder rating please. I personally suck at writing love scenes so forgive me. All characters, except the ones with weird names belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, who is magnificent, and who makes me feel absolutely inferior, as I cannot possibly make Eomer sound as smart as Tolkien managed to. (Sighs)
Also, please be warned that updates will not be periodical, sorry. My target is Chapter 20 by end of this year. If I manage to do so, then Amazeballs! but it may not work out as well, so keep your fingers crossed. Reviews will really boost my morale, you know, so don't be shy to put one up, I appreciate every one of them. Happy reading and have a good day, or night, it depends on what time you are reading really. :)
Chapter 12
Journey to Aldburg
Before dawn, Ithílwyn rose and went to check on Aldric's condition. His arm was healing nicely, and his wounds had sealed themselves quicker than she had expected. She deemed him well enough to travel, but they would not be able to go at a quick pace. His leg would cause him some pain, but she thought she could make something to take away his discomfort during their travel. There were many things to do that morning and she had to admit that she was a little excited to leave. She decided to prepare food first, in case the two sleeping men should awake. For she did not want them to wake up and not find any food to eat: Aldric because he was ill and injured, and Éomer because, well, he was Éomer. She checked her food store first, intending to finish all the food that was left. The duration of her leave was uncertain, but she was sure that her food would spoil in her absence if she left any behind. She found several apples, her precious potted meat and more oats, flour, a little oil and several sprigs of dried herbs; the last of her medicinal store. It was a despairing sight. She sighed and decided to bake bread for their meal, as well as for food during their journey. She had much to do this morning and it would not help to stand and sigh.
She prepared food first, as well as Aldric's medicine as she deemed those more important. After that, she busied herself with packing her things, the most daunting task of the morning. What would she take with her? Only the remnant of her memories. And what would be left behind? She sighed and wiped the tear that leaked out and was running its course on her cheek.
Éomer was glad Ithílwyn had decided to go to Aldburg with them. He certainly did not want her to stay by herself in the forest and let her fate be left in the hands of filthy Orcs. He had fallen asleep shortly after he had finished his tea but as he looked around the cave, he began suspecting that Ithílwyn had not done as he had. Her belongings were either packed up or stowed away neatly. He sat up and blinked, realizing in all its fullness that he was going home that day. A sigh escaped him. Was he truly disappointed that he was leaving the cave? He smiled to himself. He must have woken up a little silly in the head today. He stood up and stretched, hard grounds produced stiff backs and stiff necks. He saw her by the fire and drew near to her and Aldric, who was well enough to sit and rest his back against the wall of the cave. His friend smiled at him and wiggled his eyebrows. He wondered if Aldric had ever held a degree of austerity in anything he did. Growing up, Aldric was always the one who suggested burning this, breaking that, teasing that girl, pouring water on that other boy. He was the troublemaker, the leader. Now he was Third Marshal, and he was the one who was in charge. But Aldric had always been the one to see the brighter part of life. He had a talent of fishing a smile or a laugh out of Éomer's sullen depths. Éomer was glad and thankful Aldric was not dead, but he should not have threatened to marry Ithílwyn. He deserved a good blow for that transgression. Ithílwyn turned to him and smiled and his lips turned up at the corners in reply. She was beautiful that morning.
"Come and eat," she invited, dishing out oatmeal, sliced apples and what Éomer suspected was the last of her never ending supply of meat to the two grateful men. Ithílwyn seemed distracted that morning, her eyes darting here and there. He took Aldric's bowl of food and helped feed him, watching her scarf down her food. When she dashed out the cave without a word, the two men watched her fleeting figure disappear and turned to each other, puzzled.
"Where has she disappeared to?" Aldric asked. Éomer shrugged. Ithílwyn, to his limited knowledge, had never acted wrongly. She did what she had to do, always. That he learned long ago. She was wise despite her youth, and she was more than capable. She had saved the two of them, and herself as well. He ignored Aldric's look at him and forced more oatmeal in his mouth. It was his turn to save her now. The roles now reversed, she would be his guest, and he her host. By the time Aldric had finished eating and had fallen asleep, again, he had cleaned the dirty plates and bowls and began packing his things. He had just finished saddling Firefoot when Ithílwyn returned, flushed from running. She was wearing a different dress, he noted, now that she was face to face with him in the sunlight. It was similar in fashion to the dresses the female villagers wore. Hmm.
"Am I late?" she asked, panting. He shook his head, staring at the red eyes on her pink face and her dark windswept hair. She smelled faintly of lilies. She exhaled in relief and ran back into the cave. He shook his head again and smiled to himself, staring at her as she left in her haste. He heard her whistling for her mare and then she reappeared again, flashing him a grin. She saddled her horse as he went to bring Aldric out. He noticed she had brought along with her certain bundles and would have asked her about it if he was not cumbered with the full weight of Aldric in his armour. He had decided to put it on earlier in case of an unforeseen enemy assail. But now he regretted it. Ithílwyn watched him as he struggled to put Aldric, who was still drowsy after his nap, on Firefoot.
"Will your horse be able to support both your weights?" she asked, brow furrowed in concern. Firefoot let out a horse-like snort of offense.
"He is the best horse in the Eastmark, and a faithful friend. I myself trained him and he is more than able to carry both of our weights. It is foal's play for a horse like him," Éomer replied, slapping Firefoot's hind legs in demonstration. His horse let out an indignant neigh, causing Ithílwyn to laugh and reach out to pat Firefoot's muzzle. To Éomer's surprise, Firefoot allowed her to caress him, when he usually did not welcome others' touches or strokes.
"Of course, I apologise for doubting you, handsome Firefoot," she said and rubbed the horse's neck. His horse nuzzled her and he looked over at Freckles, who he suspected was beginning to envy Firefoot.
"You should know that Firefoot is rarely affectionate to anyone, even me," he remarks and smiles at her. Aldric was making incoherent noises as Éomer supported him.
"Any horse would be affectionate to one who secretly feeds him." She winks at him and gestured at Aldric with her head.
"Right," he replied, gritting his teeth as he did so. Ithílwyn ran back and covered the entrance to the cave with a sort of wooden frame made out of twigs and branches so that the entrance was no more, appearing as if it was hidden under the earth. Éomer put Aldric on his horse with much difficulty and mounted his steed, letting Aldric lie back on him. She shook the soil and bits of bark from her palms and kissed Freckles on her nose before mounting. He heard her sigh as they rode out and he turned to look at her. She returned his gaze with an unreadable expression.
"Are you alright?" She looked around her, as if to savour the last of her moments in the forest. Then she turned to him and smiled, one that must have taken lot of courage to muster.
"Yes," she replied. "Shall we leave?" He nodded and smiled at her encouragingly. He spurred Firefoot and led his horse at a steady trot. He vaguely heard Ithílwyn hum a tune behind him as her horse followed Fiefoot's pace. As Ithílwyn had advised earlier, Aldric would be put into great danger if they travelled at a quick pace. For now, his friend was in the midst of a peaceful slumber. He knew his task: lead all three of them back to Aldburg safely and he knew it would not be an easy undertaking to accomplish. Ithílwyn soon came up beside him and he noticed her eyes were red. She pointed to a large rowan tree that must have been there for some time.
"This was where Finríel found me many years ago." He stared at her, wondering why she continued looking at the tree, as if there was a scene unfolding before her that he could not see.
"Ithílwyn?"
"Oh, sorry." She wiped her face and straightened her back, turning away and leaving the tree behind.
"I understand it must be hard to bid farewell. You do not have to be sorry."
"It is the earth's will for things to leave, that other things may come in its stead. Mayhaps I will return someday, though deep in my heart I fear it is unlikely that I will be able to do so." She smiled briefly before it vanished and her lips drew themselves into a line. He did not know what else to say, and thought it best not to say anything, for words may have their wisdom and folly. She slowed her pace and fell behind him, and he sensed that she needed to be alone for a while. And so no words were spoken until Éomer decided to halt by a stream. It was noontime, and the sun was bearing down on their backs. They were closer to the edge of the forest, and the trees were few, allowing sunlight to shine upon the ground. They dismounted, and Aldric was laid on a bed of soft heather. Éomer splashed his face with cool water and was glad for the refreshment. Ithílwyn was by Aldric's side, he was half awake by now, and slurring his words as he tried to speak to her. She was feeding him something, what it was he did not know because he went to refill his waterskins. She joined him a while later by the stream, causing him to feel uncomfortable, knowing that he should say something to her out of courtesy, but the words were not at his current disposal.
"Are you alright?" he asked, the best of all he could muster.
"I think so." She smiles shyly at him and closes the top of her waterskin. "I have prepared some food to eat." He nodded and was glad she had chosen to come along, else he and Aldric starve on their journey. The horses were taking a brief rest as they nibbled on the grass. Aldric's horse had been taken back to Aldburg when the rest of his men had left, which was a blessing, as they need not worry about another horse. They ate in silence before preparing to leave once more. Aldric insisted loudly that he was fine, his speech slurred but comprehendible, urging them to continue and move quickly.
"Although I would rather ride with the lady than with you," he whispered to Éomer, who
thought the remark unnecessary. They mounted and continued on their journey.
They travelled on until the sunset and set up camp for the night. The horses were unsaddled and allowed to graze and rest. Ithílwyn prepared dinner once Éomer had gotten a fire going. The forest was eerily quiet and Éomer was uneasy, unsure if lighting a fire was a wise decision. Ithílwyn was feeding Aldric, who much to Éomer's frustration, was making obvious advances towards her. It was bad enough that he was the only one eating a proper meal that night. There was not enough food for all of them and Aldric needed to heal. Ithílwyn was otherwise unaffected by his flirtatious remarks, and she did not permit him to say much as she was persistent in placing food in his mouth. He admired her for not treating Aldric differently after what he had told her the night before, or perhaps she believed he was actually jesting. He decided not to watch Aldric's pathetic attempts at flirting with the opposite sex. He took the sleeping furs out and laid them out on the ground by the fireplace. Ithílwyn escorted Aldric who was limping painfully to where the furs were laid out and made him rest. After Aldric had fallen asleep, she came up to him and sighed.
"He is not faring well as I had hoped. The travelling has taken a toll on his health," she reported. He frowned and turned to look at his sleeping friend.
"We cannot afford to stop for too long." She did not reply and chose to purse her lips instead. She knew he was right. "I'll take first watch this time." She nodded and turned away, then turning back to him.
"I have been meaning to ask you this, how is your hand?" He stared at it.
"It is fine. It does not hurt anymore, thanks to you." She smiled and took his hand, looking at it closely.
"Your hand was not burnt badly, but it has healed quickly," she replied and smiled.
"You are demonstrating too much joy for something so unimportant."
"There are many things to be joyous about, if we choose to perceive them as such. Why, there are many things that I should be depressed, or sad about, but that will not be much help in our situation."
"No, it will not," he murmured, clasping her hand tightly in his own. Her eyes flitted to his gaze in surprise. Running his hand through her hair, he marvelled at how soft it felt at the touch of his fingertips. "Your hair is like silk," he breathed beside her ear. She gulped and the moment disappeared. He released her hand and breathed deeply. "I am sorry."
"It is no matter," she replied indifferently and went over to her furs and arranged them. He noticed she put hers further from Aldric's resting form and his furs. He swore under his breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He began to believe that he would only redeem himself once for every ten times he offended Ithílwyn. He sat on his furs and kept watch, stealing a glance at Ithílwyn, who covered herself and turned her back to him.
"Goodnight," he called out, but there was no reply. He stayed awake from night till dawn, not waking Ithílwyn, for two reasons: she needed sleep, and he could not. He kicked clumps of earth and put the fire out, scattering the ashes and covering their tracks. He went to Aldric's side and placed his hand on his forehead. It was dangerously warm and Éomer grew anxious. He went over to Firefoot, who was near Ithílwyn's mare. He hoped the horses had behaved. Firefoot was greeted first, and then Freckles.
"Good morning, Freckles. I thank you for watching over my friend," he paused and placed an arm over Firefoot, "here. And I would like to inform you of the situation that has befallen us." Freckles whinnied. "My friend is gravely ill, and we have no other option save to return to Aldburg where there is medicine for him. I fel it right to inform you that we might have to ride the entire day." The mare nickered and he reached out to stroke her speckled coat. Ithílwyn had a good horse with her. The horse left him and went over to her mistress, who was curled up in what Éomer would describe as an adorable position. The horse nudged Ithílwyn with its muzzle and woke her mistress, who immediately sat up and rubbed her eyes groggily. She looked up at Éomer and stifled a yawn.
"Is it time to leave?" she inquired. He nodded and watched as she stretched and got to her feet, packing quickly. Breakfast was flat bread, potted meat and some berries Éomer did not know she had plucked the day before. Aldric ate little and his skin was deathly pale. Éomer saddled the horses while Ithílwyn got Aldric to eat and drink as much as he could. A while later, they set out again, fearful of the possible circumstances they might face.
"His fever is worsening," she alerted. He nodded.
"I know. But I cannot travel at a faster pace, nor am I willing to stop." She kept silent. "We ride as long as there is light. I will decide what to do then."
Éomer put them at a slightly faster speed than the day before, and Aldric was not affected too badly although his fever was worsening. By midmorning they had left the trees of the forest behind them and had entered the eastern plains of Rohan. They had covered good distance that day as they had not stopped once and Éomer estimated that they would reach Aldburg within two days, three days at most. They set up camp when night fell and he could sense their anxiousness over Aldric's rapidly declining health. For his sake, they lit a fire. Ithílwyn needed to brew his medicine to alleviate the pain he was in and Éomer took it upon himself to prepare dinner that night. Ithílwyn handed the pack of food she had brought and he was surprised at how light it felt.
He watched her feeding Aldric the medicine she made earlier as he drank thin stew. Aldric had been asleep and feverish the whole day, and Ithílwyn felt responsible for it. She joined him by the fire, where the stew was bubbling.
"How far is it to Aldburg?"
"Two days, given the pace we are travelling at. Is Aldric...," he paused, not knowing how to continue.
"He needs medicine that I do not have. The drink I made for him will only help numb the pain and reduce his fever. I fear we must trust him to sustain until we reach Aldburg. Did you make stew?"
"Uh, yes." He was frightened at how she would react. She ladled the stew and let it dribble back into the pot, and he saw her cringe at the unappetising consistency. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath as she ladled out some stew for herself. They were both hungry, as they had not eaten much the night before. However, Éomer knew she was eating out of need and not want. She smiled at him and took a spoonful. And grimaced. She tried to mask her displeasure, but Éomer knew what he had made, and what it tasted like.
"I am not a good cook," he confessed. She gulped and coughed.
"It is not so terrible," she lied and took another brave bite. He raised an eyebrow, calling her bluff as she swallowed and shuddered. "Alright, it is that terrible. What did you put in the stew? I hope you've left some food for Aldric."
"Yes, I have. I am truly sorry for the way I cause the stew to turn out."
"It is fine, I respect your intentions. I never had a man cook for me before." She smiled at him. "But perhaps, next time you will consult me before you cook?" She raised her eyebrows slightly and burst into laughter.
"Yes, and you can trust that I am not about to cook in the near future. I will stick with Orc-hunting, and swordplay." A cold breeze whistled through their camp and filled Éomer with scary thoughts. He stamped out the fire and scattered the ashes and the burnt logs. Ithílwyn raised an eyebrow, but did not say a word, going over to Aldric and piling more fur blankets on to him. She went back to her unfinished bowl and sat by him. She shivered as another breeze swept by, crossing her arms over her small frame. Éomer took off his cloak and put it around her shoulders. She looked up at him gratefully.
"Would you not be cold then?" He shook his head.
"Do not worry, I am used to such conditions." She picked up her bowl and boldly finished the stew in front of his eyes, wiggling her eyebrows at him and causing him to laugh. "May I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"I was curious as to where you had gone last morning, before we left."
"Oh..., that." She turned her head away and he realised that he was not certain if his question deserved an answer. "I went to my mother's grave, to say goodbye and to tell her that I will be alright. I will not be returning, for quite some time, and I wanted to make sure that nothing disturbs her peace."
"I see. You were gone for quite a long while."
"Yes, I had much to say to her. I am sure you would have a lot to say to your mother too."
"No, I would not." She stared at him.
"What did you tell her?"
"That I was going to Aldburg, and that I had met new friends," she paused and did not continue.
"I see."
"Mm hmm. I think I will take first watch tonight, you may rest tonight." And that was the end of their conversation. Éomer bundled up his one sleeping fur and made it into a pillow, lying down on it. He could feel the grass poking his back. It was damned cold, and he curled his body. He was a battle hardened warrior, and he was used to the harsh weather of the plains, having slept on the prickly grass numerous times. What he could not withstand was the accursed sound of Ithílwyn's chattering in the cold. When he finally had enough of the sound, he got up and went over to her. She had his cloak wrapped tightly around her, and she had drawn her knees up and curled herself into a ball. He exhaled disapprovingly and she looked up at him in surprise.
"Y-you ca-cannot sl-slee-sleep?" she asked.
"You are freezing," he stated in complete ignorance pertaining to her question, noticing her lips were beginning to turn purple. He sat down behind her and placed his arms over her. "Give me your hands," he ordered. She obeyed and placed her icy hands in his. He rubbed them and let the heat from his body warm her. "I should not have put the fire out." She nodded and laughed. "Why are you laughing?"
"I am not cold anymore, thank you," she replied, even when she was still shivering.
They sat that way for a while until she stopped shivering. She laid her head in the crook of his neck as Éomer played with her fingers absentmindedly. She snuggled closer to him and a smile appeared on his face.
"How do you feel?" he asked, looking down at her. She wore a wide smile on her face.
"Wonderful." She broke from his hold and knelt down, taking the cloak that he had put over her off and placing it back on his shoulders. He noticed that she had had another cloak underneath the one she just removed. It was an old cloak, slightly torn, and he could see spots in the shawl where the fabric was stretched. What surprised him was that it looked familiar.
"It is yours," she replies, seeing that he was looking at it intently. "You gave it to me when I fell into the stream." The memory came back to him and he looked at her, understanding why she was blushing. She had a shy smile on her face, and Éomer felt his heart stop for one short moment as he beheld her in the moonlight.
"Why did you keep it?" he asked, brushing her cheek with his knuckles.
"I liked it," she replied shyly. "I know you must think me a fool."
"No, I do not think you are a fool." He held her chin with his thumb and forefinger and pressed his lips to hers. "How could I have forgotten?" he whispered as she began responding to his kiss. She smiled and he let his hand run through her hair. He broke the kiss and simply stared at her, at how lovely she was. Her fair face framed with silky dark, and freshly tousled hair. The bright eyes that gleamed back at him, the rosy blush on her cheeks and her swollen lips, begging him to kiss her. And so he complied, kissing her once more, letting his hand rest on her waist. He lowered her down to the ground and he heard her moan his name. It caused his blood to roar, and his control was lost. Somehow, he managed to think of her welfare throughout the haze of lust he was shrouded in. He laid out the cloaks underneath and saw her smiling at him. It was a bright, joyful expression, and he had never seen her so radiant. It made him hesitate. He pulled away from her and sat down beside her. She noticed the change in his demeanour and sat up, taking hold of his hand. "No more of this, you want this as much as I do."
"Ithílwyn," he protested weakly. He would not be able to refuse her much longer if she kept persuading him with dark eyes that reflected gleaming starlight.
"You want me," she murmured, drawing herself up to him and placing kisses at the side of his neck. She tugged at the straps of his armour, trying her best to feel his skin underneath her palms. He brought her head up and kissed her hard on the lips, moving his hands down to help her with her clumsy efforts. He was already aroused, and she was still fully clothed. Lowering her down onto their cloaks, or his cloaks rather, he fiddled with the laces on her dress. He felt her tugging at the waist of his breeches and smiled at how impatient this woman was. He took her hands away and grinned menacingly at her. He placed her arms flat on the ground above her head and nuzzled her neck, scratching her skin with his beard. One hand slipped down from her hip to her thigh. He bent her leg and lifted the fabric of her dress, discovering that he missed the kind of dress she wore when she was in the forest. He tickled her as he pulled the fabric higher and higher, never having undressed her before. And then he saw something which further intrigued him. Fastened around her thigh was a thin leather cord.
"What is this?" he asked her.
"Oh, it is a necklace," she replied, sitting up again. He leaned in to take a closer look and discovered that there was an undressed amethyst strung around the cord. It was a crudely fashioned piece of jewellery, and it was definitely not made in Rohirric fashion. How did she have such a thing in her possession?
"I did not steal it, if that is what you are thinking," she teased. "It was given to me by my father. My sister told me that when she received me in her home, the necklace was already around my neck. I do not think it pretty, but it was my father's, I think."
"You should wear it around your neck," he replied, curious as to what it would look like nestling between her breasts.
"Hmm, I suppose so, but it was hard to run with a stone around your neck, much less hunt or forage. It was much easier to keep it tied around my thigh, for convenience." He removed the necklace from her thigh and put it around her, letting it rest on her chest. She reached out to finger the stone. "It feels odd," she remarks lightly, chuckling.
"That is because you are still dressed," he replied and undid the laces of her dress and pulled the fabric off her, leaving the sheer chemise draped over her. She had been tugging at his breeches clumsily the entire time he was undressing her and in frustration, he kicked his breeches and boots away. He turned back to her to find that she had removed her chemise and was baring her beautiful, fair form. He licked his lips expectantly and crawled over her, kissing her hungrily. He felt her tongue respond to his intrusion and her hands at the back of his neck. She pulled his shirt off him with a force he did not know she possessed.
"Oh Éomer," she sighed when they broke for air. He kissed her cheek and subsequently began to trail kisses from her jawbone to her chin, and then to her neck and her collarbone, down to the valley between her breasts. He could feel her hands kneading and squeezing the flesh at his back. He covered her breast with one hand and placed his mouth over the other, circling her nipple with his tongue. Ithílwyn moaned and tugged at his hair, fastening her legs around his. He squeezed the other breast and delighted in hearing her squeal. The skin around his manhood was straining painfully and he briefly wondered if he had desired a woman as much as he did in that moment. His body was crying out for release, but he knew she was still new to lovemaking, and she would gain no pleasure from harsh ways. He smothered his lust and turned his attention back to her chest. Slowly, he grazed his teeth over the sensitive skin of her breast, slightly amused that she was pressing his head down to her bosom. He snaked his hand down, skimming over her flat, smooth stomach before reaching her womanhood. Knowing much about a woman's anatomy, he found her most sensitive spot and circled his thumb over it lightly, causing her to jerk.
"Éomer!"
"How may I assist you, my lady?"
"What did you do?" she asked, her breath ragged.
"Did it offend you, or would you like me to repeat?" he teased. She ignored his smirk.
"Repeat, please," she replied in a raspy voice. He nodded obediently, kissing her left breast and proceeded to suckle while his thumb made lazy patterns at the lower part of her body. Her breaths were coming in short pants now and he decided it was time to enlighten her of the ways of a man and a woman. He trailed kisses from the underside of her breast to the dark thatch of hair below her stomach.
"What are you-"
"Shh," he chided, casting a disapproving look at her. He disappeared from her sight as he placed his head between her legs and kissed her where she had not ever dreamed of being kissed. He placed his tongue in between her moist folds and could not help but grin at her response. High pitched noises were coming from her throat as he licked, nibbled and sucked.
"Éomer, ah..., wh-what are, ohh, OHH!" Éomer rose from between her legs, pausing to take a peek at his work. Ithílwyn was panting, and she had a lazy smile on her face. He crawled over her until they were looking into each other's eyes. He kissed her again, letting her taste herself. He broke the kiss when he felt her hand at his abdomen. Catching her hand, he stared at her with one raised eyebrow.
"Ithílwyn," he warned.
"Éomer, I ...," she trailed as he had leaned down and was now nibbling on a delicate earlobe.
"Hmm?"
"I want to, uh, pleasure you." He smiled at her and kissed her on her nose.
"I am pleased," he replied.
"No, I want," she paused and blushed.
"What is it that you desire, hm? Tell me." He spoke softly, giving her right breast a light squeeze. Her eyes rolled back and he could see that she was struggling to find words to say.
"I want you," she pleaded.
"I am here." It was naughty of him to treat her so, especially as they were naked, skin on skin and lying out in the open field.
"Want you, ooh!, inside me," she pleaded and he could not refuse. Her cheeks turned a deep pink and he smiled at her. He nuzzled her neck, teasing her with his prickly beard once more.
"I want you too," he murmured softly, hoping she would not hear him. Using his knee, he nudged her legs apart gently. He pressed her thumb into her opening, wanting to make certain that she was welcoming him, even though he already knew from experience that she would. He shifted slightly so that he was directly above her and entered her slowly, grunting as he fought with his escalating desires. Her body responded to him almost immediately, her hips jerking to close the distance between them. He gritted his teeth, aware that he must not spill his seed inside her. He lowered himself until he was supporting his own weight with his elbows, feeling her hard nipples, moist from his tongue, poke his chest. He savoured the feel of her soft, warm skin against his, lowering his head to kiss her. Her legs crossed at his back and gripped his hips. Pushing deeper within her, he covered his mouth with her hair so that his groans would be muffled. "Oh, Thíl!" he moaned.
She laughed and brushed his messy blond hair aside. "Are you pleased now?"
He did not have the strength or the concentration to answer her. He nodded and plunged himself into her, groaning in sheer pleasure. Grabbing the fabric of the cloaks tightly in his fist, he began to move gently, reminding himself that it was for her. That it was different, because he was making love to her. Ithílwyn was not keen on his slow pace and pushed her hips up, startling him. He held her down and continued moving his hips back and forth, at a steady pace. He doubted that he would last, her walls were squeezing and tightening around him, causing him to lose his restraint. He steeled himself and quickened his movements.
"Ithílwyn!" he gasped, when she felt her pinch his buttocks. She grinned cheekily at him, rising to plant a kiss on his lips. He shook his head in disbelief and withdrew from her, only to plunge hard into her. She moaned, her head lolling backwards. "Naughty," he chided, knowing that he must help her find her release quickly, before he collapsed on her. Burying his head in the crook of her neck, he bit his finger as he rocked his hips even quicker than before, clamping his teeth down every time he felt the urge to come. Ithílwyn was moaning, each one higher in pitch than the last. When was she ever going to find release? He did not know how he was to survive, his muscles were so strained and tired. And then, Ithílwyn cried out his name and shuddered. Groaning in relief, he rolled his hips and unsheathed himself, spilling himself on the ground. He landed roughly on top of her, exhausted. He was short of breath but satisfied. He could feel her fingers stroking his hair, and another hand on his back. While vaguely aware that he must be crushing her with his weight, she was small in stature compared to him, he was too spent to even speak. A while later, he mustered his strength and tumbled off her and down onto the spread out cloaks, which were now rumpled and creased. He lay on his back beside her, trying to catch his breath. He heard her murmur a complaint and chuckled as he drew her neared to him. She nestled herself into the shape of his body and let out a contented sigh. He smiled as she pressed closer to him. She tilted her head to smile up at him, and he gave one in return, making sure to remember the exact expression as she lay in his arms, bare and beautiful. Her smile was one of contentment and satisfaction, and Éomer would not mind seeing that smile again, and again, and once more for good measure. He curled up against her, removing one of the cloaks and draping it around them.
"Are you cold?"
She shook her head. "Your skin is hot," she replied and laughed. He laughed as well, for she was right about him rarely smiling or laughing, and in that joyous moment, the moon seemed to glow, and the stars were twinkling brighter than before.
"I enjoyed myself very much," she admitted shyly, popping her head up from beneath his chin. He was glad that his efforts had not gone to waste.
"Me too." He wrapped his arm around her and held her close.
It was only the next morning that Éomer realized that Aldric was sleeping seven feet away from them, and that he had made a promise to his friend that he would not sleep with Ithílwyn, which he had done last night. It left a slightly acrid taste in his mouth as Ithílwyn served him breakfast. Aldric's illness had one benefit: he slept like a dead man. Even with their moaning and grunting, he had not stirred. She had awakened much earlier than he had, and was dressed by the time he rose. He dressed as she cooked breakfast that morning, not meeting her eye. Now, as she handed him his food, she smiled shyly at him, and he wondered if he deserved forgiveness. He decided Aldric was better off not knowing what they had been up to last night. Ithílwyn was beautiful that morning, radiant and well satisfied. He smiled back at her, slightly dazed by her lovely appearance, besides being fond of the occasions in which she chose to flash that particular smile. Surely Aldric would not mind him making her happier than she was before, would he? She beamed at him and went to see to Aldric. He informed her that he was going to ready the horses for their journey, which was exactly what he did, except he was busy thinking as his hands were moving.
"We are ready," Ithílwyn calls, startling him out of his troubled thoughts. Her face flushed when she saw him. He nodded and took Aldric from her while she stamped the fire out, and scattering the ashes, hiding their tracks. The horses were already saddled and all had been packed.
"I think it would be best if we continue the journey at the pace we set yesterday. If all goes well, we might be able to reach Aldburg before nightfall. How is Aldric?" He lifted Aldric up, who stood slumped against his frame. His skin was a sickly shade of green, causing Éomer to cringe slightly.
"He needs proper treatment, but I suppose he will be able to hold on until nightfall. Although I must caution you that we have to be quick in our travelling, I have run out of food and medicinal supplies. The medicine I gave him will wear out sooner or later. And we can expect that the travelling will take a toll on his ill and exhausted body." He nodded and they mounted, setting off on the last part of their journey. They rode steadily as the sun made its presence known in the Eastmark. Eomer was hopeful that they would make it to Aldburg in time, but as the journey wore on, and as the sun continued to rise until it was burning their backs, he began to question the possibility of the task ahead. Their journey required haste and it worried Éomer. Not only was his friend's life was at stake, but his and Ithílwyn's too were at risk. If they were discovered by Orcs... his trail of thought ended because Aldric was starting to jerk in his arms. He tugged on the reins as Aldric began convulsing and leaned over, retching on the ground. Firefoot came to an abrupt halt and Aldric's lifeless body came back up, spewing vomit onto Éomer's armour, and onto his saddle. He shut his eyes in exasperation and disgust and dismounted. Ithílwyn rode past him, not knowing that he had stopped. She veered Freckles around and stopped when she reached them. Éomer lifted Aldric off Firefoot, grunting under the weight, and laid him down on the ground. Ithílwyn dropped to her knees beside him and began inspecting him. His eyes darted back and forth; from Ithílwyn to Aldric, and from Aldric back to Ithílwyn. She sighed and he spied a tear about to fall at the corner of her eye.
"He needs medicine quickly. What are we to do?" She was frantic. She took her waterskin and a cloth and damped the cloth. She wiped Aldric's face and neck and dripped water into his mouth while Éomer sat, and thought hard.
"We have already arrived in the boundaries of the Folde, and only a few hours lie between us and Aldburg," he informed. "Would you think it wise for us to hasten?" She chewed her lip, turning back to Aldric to drip more water between her lips. She turned back to him and nodded.
"I think it necessary."
"Alright then, we ride swiftly for Aldburg." She nodded and helped him lift Aldric.
"Éomer, let me carry some of your things. Firefoot will travel faster if he is lighter." He nodded and put Aldric on his horse as she took some of his belongings and placed it together with hers. The horses were bribed with half an apple each, and promised more should they carry their masters, and Aldric, safely to Aldburg. Ithílwyn whispered a few words of encouragement to Freckles, who had never carried such weight in her life, and was not used to galloping for long distances. She was also worried that her mare would not take kindly to new surroundings once they reached Aldburg. Surprisingly, Freckles snorted at her, as if to reprimand her for having such little trust in the mare's strength. Ithílwyn laughed and kissed her dear horse. Éomer mounted his horse and adjusted Aldric's position.
"Come on Aldric, we are almost home, don't die on me now, I do not intend to tell your mother about her son's death, do you hear?" he murmured into his friend's ear angrily. "Firefoot, I bid you display the strength of your worthy sires, fly now, fly to Aldburg!" Firefoot neighed loudly, and raced off, leaving dust in his tracks, having been born and bred for swift travelling. Ithílwyn was shocked to see how far Éomer had gone in the short amount of time since he had rode off and quickly spurred Freckles, knowing the horse would dislike being left behind. She almost fell off as her mare sprinted off, thinking that the pace they had travelled at the days before could not possibly compare to the speed they were now moving at. The wind whipped their hair in every direction, making it hard to see, or hear. Ithílwyn was beginning to worry that her dress would fly off her body. She caught up to Éomer eventually, as Firefoot's burden was much greater. He was amazed at her ability to keep up with him at such a speed. Indeed, he was not the swiftest Rider, but he could be swift when he needed to be. Ithílwyn was holding her own, riding beside him. He smiled, knowing that she had the lighter horse. A while later, Éomer turned towards Ithílwyn, waiting for her reaction as she laid eyes on Aldburg, the first and former capital of Rohan, capital of the Eastmark and home to the Third Marshal and his éored, the place of his birth. She caught him looking at her and smiled at him, pointing to the old fortress excitedly. He smiled back at her. He was home, and so was Aldric. But she was about to be there too, and he knew it would be different.
