Chapter 3: Territory

Third Age 3020, August

Ithilian, Gondor

-Rachel-

Éomer left to tend to the horses and I finally got to spend some time with Kristen. When I made my way to her room, I half expected her and Faramir to be asleep and Flynn with a nanny. But Flynn's screams echoed through the hall, and I knew neither of them could be in bed. Kristen paced the room with the blue bundle of her son, attempting to rock him to sleep. She looked completely exhausted and managed a nod while keeping the baby bouncing. "He won't stop crying. It's been an hour," she said. "I sent Faramir to his study to get some sleep. Flynn won't let me feed him, he's not wet. I don't know what to do."

"Don't you have a nanny?" I said.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't get me started on that. I've been trying to hire one for weeks, but I haven't found a single one I've liked. And then, the stupid midwife tried to get me to hire a wet nurse, can you believe that?" she said.

I laughed. "They actually have wet nurses in Middle-earth? I guess it makes sense, when you think about it."

"Do you want to try?" she asked. "Without a nanny, I need all the help I can get."

I shifted nervously on my feet. "I wouldn't want to make it worse," I said.

"C'mon, dude. Let the kid meet his aunt. I know you're still upset about the miscarriage, but you can't let it run your life."

Kristen always had a way of snapping me back into reality and I knew for sure now that staying here was the right choice. I held out my arms and she placed the squirming baby in them. He was stronger than I thought he would be. His blanket was loose around his body. "Did you swaddle him?" I asked.

"Did I what?"

"Swaddle him in the blanket?"

"Don't know what that means."

I walked over to the crib, laying him down inside. As if it were possible, he wailed even louder. I would be surprised if all of Emyn Arnen were awake. I tightly wrapped the blue blanket around him, tucking in the folds so they wouldn't loosen. He continued to scream until I picked him up, holding him close to my chest and rocking him as Kristen had been doing. He didn't fall asleep, but he stopped crying after a few minutes.

"Jesus Christ," she said, looking at her son. "Aunt of the year, you are. He does that every night. Faramir and I had no clue what to do."

"Should have hired a nanny sooner. That's what they're for."

"I don't need a lecture, thank you." I started to hand him back but she held up her arms. "Hell no. I haven't been free in a week."

As I held him, I grew more and more aware of the fact of what he represented to me. My one in a million chance that had escaped me. I sat down in the rocking chair and Kristen collapsed on the floor. "So, how was it? Giving birth?" I asked.

She let out a sigh. "I wish you could have been there. You'd have been much more help than that stupid midwife. I don't really know how to describe it. It was seriously painful, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't that painful. It helped that Faramir was there, holding my hand. It gave me something to squeeze. The midwife didn't want him there, but I told her she'd lose her wages if he wasn't let into the room."

"Legolas held my hand during the miscarriage," I muttered as Flynn's left hand escaped the blanket and looked for something to grab. I put my finger in the small space and he grasped it with his tiny hand. So tiny. I looked back at Kristen, who looked ready to crash. "So, Flynn Rider, huh?"

She laughed with me, her shoulders bouncing. "Faramir wanted to name him something weird, you know. One of those Middle-earth names where the dad and son's name are super similar. Like Éomer and Eomund. I thought it was weird. Flynn was the only name we could agree on."

"Faramir knows that Flynn Rider is just a character right? He's not a 'great prince'. And, if you recall, he was actually a thief."

"He was a prince because he married Rapunzel. And how do you know he's not real? Look where we are right now. Look who we're married to."

"Touché," I said as Flynn moved my finger into his mouth. I didn't mind. He suckled it like a binky. "I think he may be hungry," I said.

Kristen sighed and held out her arms. "Give him here." I handed him over she unbuttoned the neck of her dress. Her breasts were a harsh red and much bigger than they had been in the past.

"That looks painful," I commented, pointing at her boob.

"It was painful to grow 'em this big. They look bad, but they're really not," she assured me. We sat in silence for a moment longer and I almost fell asleep, until she spoke. "I'm sorry for earlier. I should have greeted you without Flynn or given you some kind of warning. I know you're still upset about the twins."

"It wasn't you," I assured her. "It wasn't even Flynn, honest. It was Éomer. He's insisted since the miscarriage that he's not ready to be a father. When I caught him staring at Flynn…I don't know. Maybe my imagination got away with me. But I do know someday, he'll want this and I don't think I'll be able to give it to him."

"He really does love you, you know," Kristen said, shifting Flynn to the other breast. "Kids or no kids." She blushed a little. "I heard some of the fight. Didn't sound pretty."

"It wasn't," I sighed, sinking back into the rocker. "I need to thank you, though. It's nice of you and Faramir to let us stay here for a few weeks."

"Oh, you're both staying now? I guess that doesn't really surprise me. But it's no big deal, as long as you two can occupy yourselves," she let out a breathy laugh.

It was well past midnight when Kristen and I left so she could get some sleep. The rest of the guests would be arriving tomorrow—or I guess, today— and she would need to greet them.

I was absolutely exhausted from my travels and the excitement of the day that I barely registered the fact that Éomer had not yet returned from the stables. I was hardly able to change out of my weathered riding clothes, but somehow I managed to get into a nightgown before falling on the sheets and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

I walked down to the stables the next morning. I woke earlier than expected, Éomer's absence keeping me from being able to sleep. I was intending to feed Winnie a good old breakfast carrot, but found someone waiting for me in the stables.

Éomer was asleep on a bushel of hay, his head against a wooden pillar. Yellow bits of straw were poking out of his golden hair, making him look much more disheveled than he actually was. I bent over him, gently removing the straw from his tresses. Eventually, he started to stir. "Rachel," he breathed as he woke. He looked around, finding his bearings. "Did I fall asleep in the barn?"

"I can only assume so. You never came to bed," I said, sitting down beside him.

"You are in your nightclothes," he said, surprised.

"No one's in the city yet and I'm wearing a robe," I defended.

"The first of the guests arrived yesterday evening. Have you not noticed the new horses?" he gestured to the stalls on my right. Indeed, eight new horses were now held inside them.

"Who showed up?"

"Imrahil of Dol Amroth and three of his children. Imrahil is Faramir's…uncle, I believe."

I felt my stomach clench. Holy shit on toast, this was not okay. "Love, are you alright?" he asked.

"Which children? He has four."

"I believe his two eldest and his daughter. Why? Did you meet them during the war?"

"No. No, I never met them," I said, standing out of the hay.

But he knew me too well to just dismiss that. "Rachel, what is going on?"

With a deep breath, I turned back to him. He was standing with me now, concern etched on his face. "Remember how you said you didn't want to know anything of what could have been?" I asked, doing my best to keep my voice from shaking. "It was right after I moved to Edoras and you said you would have rather not known Éowyn was supposed to have lived through the war and that you didn't want any more of that knowledge."

"Yes I do," he said, grabbing my hand in his own.

"Is that still true? I never told you because you were so adamant about it."

"Well, now I'm curious. What is so important about Imrahil?"

I shook my head. "Not Imrahil. His daughter, Lothiriel."

And there it was. Éomer was far from stupid and it wasn't that hard to piece together. "I married the Princess of Dol Amroth?" he muttered, slumping against a wooden post. "She is but a child. A kind child, but…that does not make sense." He turned back to me. "It must have been arranged. Was it arranged?"

"I don't know. There's only, like, one sentence written on the matter."

"And what is the sentence?"

"I don't have it memorized, Éomer." I understood his frustration. That was a pretty big pile of shit I just loaded onto his plate, but it didn't make me feel better about this conversation I never wanted to have. I turned, intent on walking away, but he stopped me.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling me closer to him. "The fact that I am unnerved by the situation is absolutely wrong. But do you really think I don't know my heart well enough to be confident in my choice of marriage?" I didn't say anything as he placed a kiss on my cheek. "The princess will make a beautiful young bride. But for someone else. Just because an old man of your world fancies himself a spinner of tales does not mean he is a spinner of my life. Nor, yours for that matter. I made a choice and that choice was you. Never forget that."

The glow in his eyes told me he meant every word. Before I knew it, my lips were on his. He was tired and surprised, but he kissed me back, gently cupping my cheek. But I didn't want to be gentle. With that princess in the same city, I didn't feel assured.

Éomer had staked his claim the night we pledged troths. I couldn't take him here in the barn, but I could very well mark my territory. I grabbed his broad shoulders, pulling him with me as my back met a wooden post. Using the post as leverage, I snaked my arms around his neck and pulled myself up to his height, wrapping my legs around his waist. I felt his jaw clench with surprise, and he tried to pull away, but I stopped him, tangling my fingers in his hair, keeping his mouth were it needed to be.

He didn't protest. In fact, he brought himself deeper into the kiss and I felt my back dig into the post behind me. With one hand, he gripped my thigh and with the other, he slowly moved it down from my cheek to my breast, clutching it between the thin fabrics of my nightgown and my robe, massaging it like only he could, sending waves of pleasure and heat through my chest.

I broke the kiss, gasping for air and his mouth moved to my neck, placing rough kisses in the most sensitive places.

A wisp of dark hair disappeared behind the door to the stables, so fast it might have been my imagination. But then logic replaced my desire and I remembered we were not in Aldburg anymore. Ithilian was a city of Gondor and Gondor had rules about this kind of thing.

Éomer must have noticed me tense up, as his kisses eventually stopped. He pulled back, removing his hand from my breast and helping me back to the ground. I expected him to ask what that kiss was about, but he said nothing. He only took a moment to regain his breath, and I with him.

"We should leave that for our bedroom," I muttered. "I shouldn't have jumped you like that."

He caressed my face with the tips of his fingers. "Never apologize for that, love. That spark is our own personal flame." He leaned away from me and stretched his arms. "Perhaps staying in Ithilian will do us some good after all."

I couldn't help it. For the first time in a long time, I let out a genuine laugh. Éomer smiled as he laced his fingers in my own and pulled me quickly through the halls, so no one would see our tousled hair and my wrinkled nightclothes and wonder just what we might have been up to in the stables.

-Éomer-

In the halls of Faramir's House, I walked aimlessly, looking for a distraction. Not often did Rachel get to visit with Aragorn, and when he had arrived, I left them to some privacy. The walls of this city were barren, cold, and made of stone. Very much unlike the ones in Meduseld, made of wood, intricately carved with numerous designs and tapestries hanging from every nook and cranny. One I found particularly comforting these days hung not far from the door to the library. It depicted my ancestor, Frealaf Hildeson, who took the throne of Rohan, the first of the second line of Kings.

I had much in common with Frealaf. His mother had been sister to King Helm Hammerhead, and took the throne after the death of his uncles. I too, would be the first of my line. And probably the last, the nagging voice in the back of my mind quipped.

By the Valar, I did not want to cope with this now. Until yesterday, fatherhood had terrified me more than ten thousand Uruk-hai. I did not envy Faramir in the slightest. But, here I stood in these cold halls, sick to my stomach at the fact Rachel would, in all likelihood, never conceive a child. I thought I had made my peace with it, but I had not. Clearly, she also was distressed.

I kicked a chair in frustration. Why did marriage seem to bring out the worst in us? We had lived in happily in courtship for fourteen months. I had been naive to think that marriage would solve any of our problems. Yet, when I proposed, I did not even know about her condition.

"Marshal Éomer," a voice greeted me.

Looking up, I met the face of Prince Erchirion, the second-eldest brother of Lothiriel. He and I had fought, along with his father and brothers, at the Battle of the Black Gate. I stood and held out my hand. "Prince Erchirion. Many moons it has been since I saw you last at my wife's sister's wedding."

"Indeed, my lord. And now we meet again to welcome their child to the world. Have you met the little prince?"

"I have. My wife and I were first to arrive in Ithilian. Great joy the babe has brought to my family."

He looked like he had more to say, but was interrupted by a familiar voice. "Éomer!"

I turned and found my sister-in-law walking towards me, though it was not the one I expected.

"Claire?" I said in surprise. Her face held a small smile as she limped toward me. When last I saw her, you would not know of the ailment simply by looking at her. Now, with her limp and the use of a cane, it was obvious. I pulled my favorite sister-in-law into an embrace. "I did not expect you since you were a month's travel away in the Shire, but here you stand before me."

"You think I would miss the name-day of my sister's first child? You don't know me very well, Éomer."

Behind me, Erchirion coughed. I gave Claire an annoyed stare and she tried not to laugh. "Lady Claire Elliott, may I present Erchirion, Son of Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth."

She looked a little surprised at the identity of the prince, but she held her hand out none the less. Erchirion took it in his own, placing a kiss upon it. "It brings me great honor to meet the sister of my new cousin."

Claire gave him an amused look as she took her hand back. "It's a pleasure, Prince Erchirion," she said politely before turning back to me. "I need to talk to you. Alone."

Erchirion looked annoyed. "As you wish," I said, starting back down the hall.

"Might I see you at the celebrations tonight, Lady Claire?" Erchirion called.

"Well, the kid is my nephew, so yeah," she called back. As we turned a corner, she burst out into laughter. "Are all the princes of Dol Amroth that forward?"

"They seem to be a rather forward family, yes. I do not know them well, but we fought in the war together."

"Living amongst the Hobbits, I've forgotten how much the big folk love their romance."

"Have you not found yourself a Halfling that has caught your fancy, sister?" I jested.

"I doubt my feet are hairy enough for any of them," she chuckled.

I led us into a room I knew to be unoccupied. "I do not think Faramir will mind if you take up residency in this room. It is quite far from the rest of the festivities. I know how you like your peace."

"Thank you," she said, sinking into a chair and propping up her leg on the center table. I could not tell before how tired she looked.

"How long have you been on the road?"

"Merry and I left twenty-two days ago. We made excellent timing."

"Meriadoc Brandybuck?"

"Did I not mention your uncle's esquire was my traveling companion?" she said, opening her eyes. "After he heard of me coming, he wanted to be dropped off in Rohan to visit you, but then we met Eothain in Aldburg and he told us Kristen had the baby and you weren't in Rohan."

"We've decided to stay in the city longer than Eothain expects. I am not presently needed in the Mark and he has Aldburg well under control. I promised Rachel that we would stay in Ithilian for an extended period of time. Aldburg doesn't suit her quite as well as I had hoped."

"Frida mentioned that," Claire said, stretching.

"What did Frida say?" I was immensely curious, for Erkenbrand mentioned on the road that many had noticed Rachel's unhappiness but love had made me blind.

"Only that Rachel doesn't like Aldburg. Frida thinks she misses Thèoden."

"And what do you think?"

"I think I haven't seen her since the wedding and I can't judge without talking to her first. Where is she, by the way? You two are normally glued at the hip."

"She is with Aragorn. He arrived about an hour ago."

My sister-in-law nodded, rising from her chair and grabbing her cane. "I need to talk to him before the celebrations tonight. But you should go to the kitchens. Merry's down there and he's talked of little more than you and Rachel the entire trip."

"I will indeed greet my uncle's old esquire. Thank you for this, Claire. All of it."

She waved a hand at me as I left the room.