A/N: Hello again! Whew, and I thought the chapters would get easier to write after I didn't have to check and re-check every date and fact to see if I'm still going canon (I have failed with that a couple of times undoubtedly). Yeah right. Well, without further ado:
Éomer paced to and fro in the hallway before their rooms. Aefwyn had announced to him at the crack of dawn that he was to go fetch the midwife, his sister and to tell the kitchen to start boiling water. The latest of their fold had decided waiting was over.
Once he had summoned the midwife and Éowyn he had found the door barred from the inside and sighed. To think of all the foals he'd helped into the world, he was still banned from the birth of his child. Certainly not as the first father ever, and certainly not the last, but he knew what was going on behind his door. Would it really have been so bad for him to wait inside?
Then he heard Aefwyn scream. His wife had very healthy lungs, because the sound drowned out the midwife's encouragements – he had heard those too, but too indistinct to make out the words. At his next turn, Éowyn came out the room, not even looking at him, and hurried toward the kitchens.
"Nothing for you to do here, Éomer, go do some ruling." She quipped walking past him, her face intent.
"You pretty much did your job nine months ago!" came her last retort from around the corner. Éomer sighed and kept pacing. Like he could concentrate on something else at a time like this.
True enough, this wasn't their firstborn, but he liked to think all his children were equal to him, and since he'd done the pacing every time one of his children had been born and he'd been at Aldburg, he saw no reason not to do it now.
Éowyn looked at him again sternly as she returned, but didn't offer any more commentary as she re-entered the room. Few more tours down the corridor and back again, until he heard his child's first cry. In a few moments, Éowyn came out again, allowing him a glimpse of the midwife and his wife, the baby lying on her stomach held safe by her arms.
"Congratulations, brother, you have a son." Éowyn looked a bit distraught, for although she had seen horses foal she had never before attended on the birth of a child. Éomer hugged his sister, lifting her up and spinning her around once. After he set her back down, her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks had pinked.
"Don't worry, Éowyn. You'll see, tomorrow she has already forgotten it ever hurt a bit." Although his words might have seemed a bit out of place, he felt the need to reassure his baby sister. He knew Éowyn had feared she would never marry, but now that she was betrothed she had started to worry about childbirth. Aefwyn had carried all her pregnancies with a quiet certainty, never once fearing for her own life or health, but Éowyn, despite her resolve and strength, seemed more concerned.
Ëowyn looked up at him and gave him a small smile.
"Well, I think you can go in now." With a smile, he pulled open the door and entered the room. Aefwyn looked tired and happy, her hair disheveled and face still a bit sweaty and reddened, but the bed was already laid with fresh sheets and the baby was wrapped in a soft cloth, nursing.
He didn't speak as he pulled a chair to the bedside, and Aefwyn was contented in shifting her gaze between her husband and the newborn. The midwife was wrapping up the tools of her trade and cleaning up the room at the same time, efficient in her movements. She was the one most women in Edoras turned to when their time had come, and now, having delivered a new prince she was glowing with silent satisfaction.
The midwife, Munhilde, was a woman in her late fifties, her dark hair in an efficient bun behind her head, a few hairs dusted already with silver. Her apprentice was also present, a girl yet rather than a woman, daughter of one of Théodred's Riders. The girl had assisted her teacher for a year or so already, and seemed as unfazed as Munhilde by the bloody sheets she was bundling to be cleaned.
"Well, if there was ever an easy birth, that was one, m'lady", she commented, closing the straps of her leather satchel.
"If there's too much bleeding, have someone call me, but since it's not your first and everything went so well I doubt there'll be anything to worry about." She nodded solemnly to the king and smiled for Aefwyn and took her leave with her apprentice in tow.
"Can I see him?" Éomer held his arms to receive the child, who looked sleepy now that it had finished eating. Aefwyn opened the cloth a bit and placed the small baby in his arms.
"He's a bit smaller than Éomund, but he came a bit too early where Éomund lingered a bit over his time. Munhilde says he'll catch up soon." Éomer assumed Aefwyn wished to reassure him that this miniature human was indeed fine and would grow to see old age. That spurred him to wonder whether his wife wasn't as sure about it as he suspected, but when he looked up at her eyes the worry vanished. She was just making up conversation, though a bit more clipped in her fatigue.
"Well, I see ten toes and fingers, and that indeed I have a second son. Seems to be another perfect baby." He wrapped the cloth around the boy once more and kissed his wife quickly.
"You think up a name. I'll go spread the happy news to my 'trusted' advisors."
oOo
At his study, the men eyed his suspiciously. His advisors weren't entirely pleased with his adamant refusal to even consider putting his wife aside. He had told them many times over the past few weeks that he would do no such thing; that his children had been born in wedlock; that his wife could not be capable of such harlotry they tried to besmirch her name with; and that she was nobly born enough as a daughter of a lord, even if the lord was known to be of mercurial nature and his only child a bastard.
He reminded them of Théoden's blessing upon their marriage, of the good stewardship Aefwyn had over Aldburg's finances, of the fact he was the king. He argued that if one took a look at his daughter Morwen they could see his grandmother and her namesake; that his good and trusted advisors had been present at their wedding and enjoyed the meat and mead in their honor afterwards.
Some of them looked less than sure now, but quite several, especially the older men who had initially disapproved with most ferocity, still seemed to hold their view. Éomer wasn't willing to remind them that they had let a baseborn man take over control not months earlier, that would put them at his opposition. Even if he was the king, his council held no small bit of power of their own as noblemen and men of wealth. He would use Gríma as a weapon though, if they insisted upon this folly.
"I shall not put aside my wife. You can forget that notion and put it aside. Let us instead focus on the logistics of the journey to Minas Tirith for King Elessar's wedding." He pulled a map out of the basket by his side, especially placed there for times he needed to have pre-prepared material on hand. To his knowledge, Théoden had had no such basket, but he preferred having unfinished business in one place and finished in another. It left the table they were gathered around less cluttered for one, and helped them concentrate better on the matter at hand.
"As you know my lady sister is to marry Lord Faramir, of the line of the Steward. Such as is her dowry will need transportation, as well as the possessions of my Queen. Let the nobles accompanying us worry for their own means of transport." He emphasized Aefwyn's position yet again by referring to her as his queen. The faces before him remained impassive. Had Théoden ever said his advisors were so difficult, or were they so only to him? Éomer knew Théodred had not liked these men overly much, especially not after they so easily let Gríma gain influence over them and Théoden.
The remainder of the meeting was held with slightly less hostility. Éomer made it a point not to appear overly difficult to them, though it was difficult, so against his wife as they now were. As they finally filed out of the library, he felt relieved more than well-counseled. He had to come up with a way to make them realize he was indeed their king, and as a king he accepted willingly their counsel, but that before king he was a husband and a father, and at those occupations he needed no advice – not from his councilmen at least.
At the hall he saw a throng of visitors just entering the hall, and to his shock he recognized Gaiwen, Aefwyn's aunt. Ceadric her father was nowhere to be seen, though, and Éomer felt a pang of sadness in his heart. He had taken Aefwyn to visit her father and aunt when they had been newly married and a few times after that, until the roads grew dangerous before the war. It had been three years now since their last visit, and Gaiwen had visibly aged during that time. She was a bit older than her brother, well into her fifties now, but her back was still straight. Her eyes were older, and she'd lost quite a bit of weight.
"Lady Gaiwen!" Her eyes shot up and a smiled played at her lips.
"Well, if it isn't my nephew! I see we truly did my niece a kindness." Her tone was playful, but the lingering advisors cast her way an ugly glance – which she thankfully didn't notice at all. She held out her hands and he took them, gripping them with her customary strength.
"Nay, it was me who received the greatest kindness." Gaiwen smiled, but then let her eyes circle the room.
"Where is Aefwyn?" She had noticed the councilmen, and the almost-festive atmosphere still hanging in the hall.
Assessing the older woman, Éomer turned slightly to point her at the correct direction.
"The best answer to my wife's whereabouts is revealed if you go down that corridor there. Last door on the right side." Gaiwen looked up at him, inquisitive.
"Indeed?" She still held his other hand and gave it a small squeeze before taking her leave.
Only after seeing Gaiwen off her remembered he had not asked about Ceadric. Although Aefwyn's father had spent quite a while of his life incapacitated by his melancholy spirit and broken heart, the revelation of his daughter had improved his condition remarkably.
Éomer glanced around himself, seeing the hall had emptied as the visitors' belongings had found their correct places and all was orderly again. He had barely been home a month, and soon he would have to ride again, to Minas Tirith, to leave one beloved behind and fetch home the remains of another. His heart felt at the same time happy and heavy as he thought of Éowyn staying behind. His sister had been a constant in his life since she had been born, and he had spent years in Edoras watching over her, before finding another constant, a missing piece of him. Indeed, he knew Éowyn deserved to have more than just nieces and nephews, she deserved babies of her own – but it was no less bittersweet to see her off knowing that.
And the other matter, of his uncle… He had cried, riding home, every night as he had laid huddled in his blankets. He had not so much grieved for his uncle then, but for the life that had died at that instant with him on Pelennor field. He had himself then and there lost his future as a free man; his future to live peacefully, perhaps ride with his éored to patrol the borders, for old times; his freedom to grow old with Aefwyn and watch their children grow and build a life of their own. Instead, he had been given a life punctuated by formalities, where his time with his wife was sometimes limited to sleeping next to her, or sitting next to her at dinner.
Now, though, now he was grieving for Théoden instead of his lost peaceful life. His grief of Théodred had been brief and drowned into a war now won. Théoden had died nearer to the end of it all, and his loss was momentous. It had needed time to brew, but now, standing in the hall alone, he was ready for it. He did not cry, but he could have been for all of it. His heart thundered in his ears, the world waved like in vertigo, his gut clenched and his lungs burned as if deprived of air. A soundless cry wrung his mouth agape and he pressed his palms against his face as the brutality of his loss suddenly sat upon his shoulders.
It had been easy for him to keep himself under control until he had been faced with the reality of his remains. He had been able to keep his unease to himself until he had been afforded a moment of solitude: indeed that must have been the answer. Éomer sat heavily down, spent by his sudden emotions. Yes, he had been surrounded by others all the time since the battle of Pelennor. And after his return he had placed the heavier notions to the back of his head, preferring to enjoy seeing his wife again.
He had gazed at the face of his infant son and seen his lost loved ones in the faces of his older children, and had put his sorrow for his uncle to the back of his head, to wait for a better moment. Yes, he reasoned, he did not want others to witness his hurt, not even Aefwyn, though his wife probably knew how much it hurt him.
The creak of a hinge was all the warning he got. Drawing himself from his morose thoughts he managed to get his face and demeanor back under control just as his father-in-law entered, smile on his narrow features.
A/N: I hadn't really planned this chapter like this at all, but I'm a sucker for punishment and let Éomer rob the show. Stupid, stupid me.
Also, if the ending feels a bit rushed, do forgive me. We're supposed to go spend Easter over at my folks and I'm supposed to be packing. I just could not leave you guys hanging for another immeasurable length of time. Until after this chapter... I mean... *wink* Well, I'll try my best with the next chapter, but as you all probably know by now it might take its sweet time. And the finishing line is not a cliffhanger. I really did try to come up with something better after 'father-in-law entered', but, Bema bless, they would all have required at least four more paragraphs and would have sucked anyway.
And, on a final note, big bunches of 'thank you's and basket-fulls of chocolate eggs for all my reviewers, followers and everyone who has favorited the story!
