Léofe stirred slowly, as she often did, taking her time to enjoy the bridge between sleep and wakefulness. It was a luxury denied to her for the majority of her life, and she did not feel at all selfish for indulging herself now. Why should she not? She could feel her nose peeking out above the quilts, rather cold. She could smell...she could smell…
Her eyes flew open, her heart hammering. Grey dawn light shone in the room, and she could see the features of Théodred's study; desk, hearth, sideboard, fur rugs and rich tapestries. Why, she was smelling Théodred, of course! His special, musky scent that made her heart race faster. She must be in the cot in his study.
A snore sounded beside her, and she startled so violently that her arms flew up and smacked her unknown companion, who yelped. "Blimey!" Théodred's voice groaned. "Next time, a tap on the shoulders will suffice!"
Léofe gasped. "Oh! I am sorry, I did not know you were there!"
He was rubbing his cheek now, smiling ruefully at her with groggy eyes. He was laying beside her, but on top of the quilts that were keeping her so cozy. How cold he must be! "Why did you not go to your bed?" she demanded, knowing full well that his bedchamber was connected to the study.
"I did not know that I would be assaulted awake!"
"Théodred!"
His brows creased as he studied her with groggy eyes. "I never sleep in my bed," he said at last. "The lock on the door of by bedchamber is broken."
"Fix it." Léofe remained put out from her fright.
Théodred shrugged, leaning back down and closing his eyes. "It is simpler to leave it. I do not wish to be stabbed in my sleep, you know, and I am not guaranteed to notice an assailant. Case in point," he said, opening one eye to glower at her. "My study is safer. Or was, until you decided to stay the night."
"You asked me to!"
"I thought you would leave before you fell asleep on my desk," he said, and shifted so that he could throw an arm around her heavily blanketed torso.
"Oh." Now that he voiced it, Léofe could remember the previous night. Théodred had been focused on studying a set of antiquated maps, and was generous to give her spare parchment and a quill to practice her letters. She must have nodded off sometime later.
"You still have ink on your nose, dear heart," he murmured close to her ear.
Léofe rubbed her nose self-consciously. "You could at least have covered yourself," she said. "You must be half-frozen!"
"I am not," Théodred said. "I am accustomed to sleeping in the cold."
"Poor dear," Léofe said, and reached out a finger to touch his chilly cheek with a warm finger. His eyes peeked open.
"Is your next order that I ought to shave?"
"I never order." She took her time to feel his prickly chin, smiling at she saw his dimples begin to surface.
"Perhaps not in word, but in meaning you certainly do," Théodred said, his voice sounding hoarse. "Béma, Léofe, you are testing my self-control!"
"Me? That cannot be."
He lifted his head and pulled her close to him, quilts and all, before planting a serious of light kisses across her face, making her laugh from the sensation. Then his hold on her tightened, and his mouth captured hers with a fervidness that made her tingle all the way down to her toes.
A pounding at the door made them both start. "Elfhelm has arrived and wishes to meet with you, Lord," came a call from the outside. "He is waiting in the hall, but sent ahead a report."
Théodred inhaled sharply and broke away from her, his face flushed, but the fading footsteps of the soldier showed that they would not be discovered. "It is high time for you to leave," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"Linger with me longer, Elfhelm will wait!"
"Minx," he said affectionately, and left the cot, much to her disappointment. He paused by the door, and then bent to pick up a single piece of parchment from the floor.
"What is it?" she asked, keeping herself wrapped in his blanket as she stood as well, intending to warm herself by the fire now that he was gone from her side.
Théodred did not respond, reading intently what was written on the parchment. He had been stiff and unmoving for several moments before Léofe walked to him and embraced him from behind, frowning as she felt the rigidity of his muscles. "What is it?" she asked once more.
The crinkling of the paper seemed loud as he crumpled it in his fist. "Nothing," he said, too quickly.
"Surely it cannot be nothing," she said lightly. "Otherwise you would not be affected so."
Théodred turned to her, clasping her hands within his own. His eyes were shining brightly, but in a way that she was unfamiliar with. "An idea has come to me," he said. "We might have a private troth-plighting in a few days. It would hearten me greatly, and I am sure that you would be pleased as well."
Uncontainable giddiness overtook Léofe with a vengeance, and she bit her lip to keep from smiling too widely. "Oh—yes, of course! I would certainly love that."
"Excellent," he said, and pulled away from her. "I shall write to Éomer directly—he will preside the ceremony for us. I would want for none other."
"Very well," she said, becoming confused now as he sat down at his desk and pulled a blank piece of parchment to him and began writing. He was not speaking, solely focusing on the hasty scribbles. Léofe began to feel odd about Théodred's behavior. "Are you certain all is well?" she asked gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Well enough. If Éomer can arrive within a week, I will declare you mine before I must leave again. You will be well cared for after that."
"By whom?" Léofe asked, piqued. "From your tone, it does not sound like you intend to do the caring."
Théodred lifted her hand, kissing the palm before looking her steadily in the eyes. "I will care for you with my every remaining breath," he said. "Though perhaps not every minute of the day, as I might hope, until after the threat is removed."
Léofe frowned.
"Have hope!" he said. "We will persevere: with such men as Éomer and Erkenbrand defending the Mark, we cannot lose!"
"And you," Léofe reminded him.
He gave her a wry smile. "And I, I suppose. Though I have not the energy of Éomer nor the strength of Erkenbrand."
"Perhaps not. But you have the duty of protecting your people, which you will never neglect. You are tireless and courageous, Théodred! You are the match of any man, and likely their superior."
He sighed, but his smile lingered. "I will remember your words, dear heart. If you believe in me, I surely can make a difference. Now you must leave before the Keep awakens and someone sees you here."
Léofe dipped her head to kiss him, pulling the blanket around her shoulders and pressing it into his hands. "Fare well, Théodred."
It was too early to be awake but too late to return to sleep. Léofe yawned as she trudged down the corridor, the uneasiness brought on by Théodred's strange mood lingering. She stopped in her own chamber to fetch a cloak. Spurred on by her whirling thoughts, she made the trek into the grey dawn and walked onto the paraphets.
The yard below was full of early morning noises; dogs yapping, children crying, the clanging of pots for a meal, and an occasional argument. There were far more people in the Deep than there ought to be. Close living quarters were straining the peace, and Léofe thanked her lucky stars for her private chamber in the fortress. She yawned again and turned her back to the yard, leaning forward on a stone wall to stare at the expanse of the dead valley that led to the Deep. It was devoid of life; unsurprising considering the apparent and imminent invasion. But this was the first day in many that there were no refugees fleeing their homes, and no éoreds or scouts were on the road. Léofe shivered, the eerie feeling unsettling her. A crow cawed, and a wailing cry came from the camp.
"We have had better winters."
She jumped, pulling her cloak tight as Erkenbrand leaned down next to her, following her gaze across the barren terrain. Unsure of how to respond, Léofe, turned her head away. It surprised her that he was not with Théodred and Elfhelm, but she could not say so. He might question how she came to her knowledge.
"Spring is a much more pleasant season here in the mountains," Erkenbrand continued. "Everything is green! Of course, Alfie likes to find her herbs in the mountains; we used to have such fun when we were younger, taking trips into the forests by ourselves." He suddenly gave her a wolfish grin, and she blushed. They stood in silence for a few moments longer, the light from the rising sun giving the valley more of a golden hue. "So," Erkenbrand said again. "You could not sleep either?"
"I slept," Léofe said. "Only it deserted me very early today."
He grunted. "Same for me. I am afraid to say it, but Alfie snores when she is with child. My sleep has been rather lacking of late."
Léofe smiled to herself. Even with Alfrida's contagious despair that her pregnancy would end in tragedy as her others had, Erkenbrand's casual attitude was humorous. It made her heart ache, anxious for the day when she and Théodred might have the same comforts in living. The ache sharpened.
"I do not think I had a chance to tell you," Erkenbrand said, changing topics once more. "I am sorry that your father died. I appreciated his friendship and hospitality, all those months ago."
A lump rose in her throat. She tried not to think of Gerdhelm, the pain still stinging too much for her to cope with. Théodred's love had been a welcome distraction from any reminders that her home and family were quite decimated. "I—thank you," she said lamely. "It is kind of you to say."
"It is necessary for me to say. And if Théodred has not told you—he enjoyed visiting your farm immensely as well. I rather think he insisted on riding by more often than necessary!" He laughed then, an echoing guffaw that startled Léofe. "I wondered if he was soft on you," Erkenbrand added after a moment. "He never showed very much interest in a woman until he bought Brego. Say, did you know his father considered arranging a marriage between him and a Gondorian princess? It was years ago—"
Léofe interrupted, feeling a little sick. "You are a gossip!" she said, deciding that an offense was the best course with a man like Erkenbrand. "Does Alfrida know you spend your spare time yapping like an old woman?"
He stared at her for a moment, then roared with laughter once more. "I stand corrected!" he chortled. "And I beg your pardon for filling your ears with nonsense."
"I should go," she said. "My, ah, help may be needed elsewhere."
"Good day, mistress!" Erkenbrand bowed his head to her, his wide grin following her as she tried not to stalk away, thereby betraying herself.
She was crossing the courtyard when a clamor rose up, and she rushed to the stairs to avoid being trampled by a mess of riders entering from the stables. Théodred was at the head, fully armed and looking tired, though he gave her a small smile as he hailed her. "Have you seen Erk?" he asked, reining in Brego to a halt.
Léofe pointed back the way she came, drinking in the sight of him. A tall, ginger-haired man with an impressive beard, who rode beside the prince, looked down at her as if noticing her for the first time and nodded a greeting. She glowered. Was this Elfhelm, who had come to take Théodred from her? What a rotter.
Despite a cold wind that began to blow in, she stayed in the courtyard for several minutes while Théodred finished his business, not wishing to lose a moment of his presence, even if it was not devoted to her. Eventually he took his leave of Erkenbrand, who was scowling. The noise multiplied as Théodred returned to the crowd of soldiers, and the snorting horses and solemn men began to pass through the gate.
Léofe sighed as she lost sight of Théodred, and turned towards the Keep.