CHAPTER 29
The mending
That eve another feast was to be held in the citadel. Aema had lost count of them. Many emissaries were coming into the city to pay their respects to the yet uncrowned king and he welcomed them with dining and entertainment. Many more were expected for the crowning ceremony but those that could not wait until then were still enough to keep all busy. As far as she knew, this night was a feast of gratitude for Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth who had proven himself to be a loyal and victorious ally to the men during the battle of Pelennor Fields. Aema did not know the Prince, she had only exchanged the expected pleasantries but she too held a great gratitude for the man and his kin. When it came to Éomer, she had attempted sending for him, but every time he had declined. But this night she had a plan to corner that bullheaded man. Since he had not shown her the courtesy of accepting her invitations, she would make him.
After the dining was over she spotted him across the room, conversing with a group of southern Gondorian nobles, it was likely people from the court of Dol Amroth, Aema thought. With a deep breath as preparation she made her way over;
'Pardon my intrusion,' Éomer glared at her when she spoke. 'I was wondering if the king would be so kind as to lend me a moment of his time, there are certain matters we need to discuss.' She smiled at the others and they smiled back before expectantly turning to Éomer.
'What say you Éomer King, will you please walk with me?'
Éomer's eyed her with irritation, a quick glance for only her to see, before offering his arm and in a most polite manner answering:
'Of course, Your Highness, with pleasure.' The last he added somewhat reluctantly. She smiled pleasantly and took his arm but her emotions were raging. She knew very well he would not deny her in front of strangers and she also knew he understood why she had done it. She was not perfectly clear as to what to say to him, but she knew they needed to at least speak to one another before anything could be resolved. She felt as if she had nothing to loose.
As they walked outside, Aema ushered them to a the garden beside the Citadel. It was the same garden where she had spoken to Gandalf during her first day in the city. Éomer did not speak a word as they walked, not until they paused and sat down on a stone bench in the garden;
'So, you got me here. What pressing matter is it we need to discuss?' He refused to look at her and she grew nervous.
'Éomer I just wanted to speak to you.' She said. He did not grant her an answer.
'Éomer, I know I have hurt you and believe me when I tell you that it pains me beyond words.' Still no reaction from him.
'Éomer please speak to me.' He now turned his glaring eyes to her;
'What do you wish of me Aema?' he let out a hollow chuckle while his hand rubbed his face,
'I believe everything we had to say has been said. Or have you come solely to add insult to my injury?'
Tears welled up in her eyes and she fought hard not to blink because she was scared it would cause them to fall and thus him to see them.
'Éomer..' she said before he interrupted.
'In Rohan, we pride ourselves with never speaking untruth, I thought the same of Romen but I seemed to have been mistaken.'
'Éomer, I have never spoken untruth!' He rose and looked down at her. He held her eyes challengingly and it dawned on Aema to what he was referring. He had asked if she loved him, and an answer left unspoken would perhaps constitute a lie in his eyes.
'Éomer, I love you.' He held her eyes for only a moment longer before he turned on his heels and walked away. 'Éomer please don't walk away from me!" she cried out but soon the shadows embraced him and she could hear his steps fading beyond the garden. Aema did not wipe her tears as they fell. She sat in silence in the shadowed garden and felt her heart beating though she could have sworn it simply stopped the moment he walked away. His eyes had been so cold when he looked at her. Were there no love left in him? She sobbed at the painful thought. What she would have given to be able to undo what she had done. Had she only answered him. 'Why did I not speak. Why did I leave him when he so desperately needed me? How could I?' But Aema knew there was no changing what had been. Still she could not believe he no longer loved her. She knew in her heart he did. She only had to convince him to forgive her errors.
Aema never returned to the great hall of the citadel. After their conversation she had retired to her rooms. Biding her time there while waiting for the festivities to be over she was determined not to give up so easily. As the hour grew late she saw through her window the dwindling number of carriages leaving the seventh level and thus knew the host and his guests had retired as well.
She silently left her room and walked down the hall to reach the stair to the upper level where Éomer's accommodations were. The halls of the citadel where dimly lit by wall candelabras and the motifs of the tapestries that scarcely hung on the walls were hard to make out. Not that Aema tried, she had other things on her mind while climbing the stairs. Once again she grew nervous, more so than before for his reaction had not been what she had anticipated. Or perhaps she was not too surprised, she had rather hoped for another though. She heard the clanking sound of a guard moving at the end of the hallway. For eminent guest such as the citadel now held, guards were placed on each floor. Luckily they stood only by each entrance and were not actually within the hallways or the stairways between them. Aema had no doubts they were guarding the bottom entrance of the stairs as well though. For now she was glad she did not have to pass any watching eyes at all, for people would surely talk if it was known that the queen skulked around the King of the Marks chambers at night.
Standing outside his door she noticed her hand was trembling. She took a deep breath before knocking carefully. She received no answer. She tried again but with the same result. As he had walked in to her room, she decided to walk into his. She opened the door and quickly stepped inside before turning around and carefully closing it behind her. The room was dark save the glowing fire on the hearth. Éomer lay sound asleep in grand, dark wooden bed in the middle of the floor. His snoring told of one or two ale too many and it made Aema smile a quivering smile.
'Éomer?' she spoke softly. When he showed no reaction she hesitated. She was not welcome here, he had made that rather clear. Yet she could not turn back now. She crossed the floor and as she stood looking down on his bare chest heaving from deep breathes she reached out to stroke his hair while softly whispering his name once more. In an instant the room swirled before her eyes and she found herself atop his bed, her armed twisted, her wrist caught in an iron grip and her throat squeezed by a calloused hand. Her involuntary shriek only came out as a croak, part from surprise and part from her throat being painfully clenched. She stared into Éomer's flaring eyes, then just as suddenly she was free again;
'Aema.. I am sorry. I am sorry. I must have hurt you.' He scanned her for marks, his eyes wide with worry.
'No Éomer, I am fine.' He spent a few more moments reassuring himself she was fine and then his temper suddenly changed.
'You should know better than ambushing a sleeping soldier! I could have taken your life, do you not see that.'
'I do now.' Was all she could say.
'What are you doing sneaking about in here at this time a night, what business do you have
here?' His anger was evident and as he stared at her, laughter bubbled up inside of her and she
had to fight to keep it at bay. The image of a flustered Éomer, bare chested with his hair in a
tangle made it hard not to. She calmed herself before speaking;
'I needed to see you. Please Éomer, let us talk.'
'Foolish woman!' he grumbled as he snatched the thin tunic that laid tossed on the floor and pulled it over his head, then ran his fingers through his hair. He walked up to the hearth to poke life into the fire and with a burning stick he lit an oil lamp placed on a dresser. He looked at her as if he was evaluating her while she patiently waited without speaking. He walked over to a table placed under one of the windows and poured two tankards of wine for them before settling on one of the two chairs placed on either side of it. He gestured her to do the same. As she sat down he reached over and handed her the wine. At length he spoke;
'So, to avoid more unpleasantries perhaps we shall speak then.' He took a sip of wine awaiting her response. She found herself at a loss of words and he raised his eyebrows questioningly.
'I...' she stammered. 'I... Éomer.. I love you.'
He did not move a muscle, his face held no expression he simply looked at her, she could not meet his gaze.
'Aema, why have you come?'
She was fidgeting her skirts. Not knowing where to begin. Not knowing if what she was about to say was something he even wanted to hear.
'I spoke to Aragorn.' she began but couldn't muster the courage to continue.
'You spoke to him about what?' Éomer said.
'I... I spoke to him about.. About us. About our duties that stands between us and he had me see that there might be a way.'
'So you spoke to him of our private matters?' Éomer's voice was cool.
'I am sorry but you would not and I was at a loss. He is my friend, Éomer, as he is yours. Our matters shall remain private.'
'So what did you learn then?'
'I… I don't know how to tell you.' Her cheeks grew hot and her eyes faltered but Éomer just waited for her to continue; 'He made me see the benefits of our… union. That not only you and I, but our people stand much to gain from it. He presented a way to overcome the still present obstacles and yet have each other…' she paused and again broke his gaze. 'would you wish it.' The last words were not a question, rather a declaration of her fear.
Éomer remained silent as did she. It was not an awkward silence for they were both too lost in thought to pay any heed to it. It was he who spoke first;
'I do not understand. Pray tell how?'
Aema explained to him what she had previously discussed with Aragorn. She recited her friend when speaking of ruling in absence and added that she of course would want to spend time in her own land, whenever possible. She had yet to dare speak of heirs though. Éomer listened intently to her words;
'I ask though, seeing as you are the ruling queen, would not your land by law fall under Rohan with such a union?' he sipped his wine.
'I must admit I do not know the laws of your land that would constitute it. I do know that in Romen, there is no law that in any way stand against this.'
'Mm,' he said thoughtfully and she eyed him, trying to untangle what was going through his mind.
'It seems it is much I do not know of your country, Your Highness.' He said and she caught a twinkle in his eyes.
'Was there something particular to which you are referring?' she said.
'I did not know that Romen tradition states that it is the woman who puts forward the marriage proposal.' Aema was confused for only a moment before she gasped aloud and blushed furiously.
Éomer laughed, for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, he laughed;
'Tell me, Your Highness, is it a habit of yours to simply sneak into a mans accommodations in the middle of the night and expect him to marry you?'
Aema hid her blushing face in her hands. Unable to say anything out of embarrassment when she realized his words were undeniable. A mortified moan escaped her and was muffled by her hands. She had spoken to him as if a marriage between them had already been a stated fact. Éomer got up and walked over to her. He gently took her hands and removed them from her face. She looked up at him, still shamed but he had stopped laughing. In his smile she found no mockery, only love. He pulled her up from the chair and as she stood in front of him, her hands still in his, he spoke softly;
'We have already broken tradition, have we not?' he smiled and she mirrored his smile when thinking of their night in Dunharrow. 'Though this is a tradition I would like to honor, therefore I ask you, Aema, daughter of Héald King, Queen of Romen, the joy of my life, will you do me the profound honor of sharing your life with me and giving me your hand in marriage?' Aema's smile widened and swiftly reached her eyes. She looked deep into his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking:
'I Aema, daughter of King Héald, twelfth ruler and eight Queen of Romen, am honored to accept your proposal, Éomer, son of Éomund, King of the Riddermark. My love, my heart and my whole reason for being.'
He raised her hands and placed a soft, lingering kiss on them all the while holding her gaze. His eyes came alive in the flickering light of the fire and she felt as if the world around them faded away, even the memory of it seemed to succumb when he finally kissed her.
Him suddenly sweeping her up in his arms caused Aema to squeal and burst out in her clear laughter;
'Éomer, what are you doing?'
He carried her over to his bed and laid her down on top of it. Before she knew it his body covered hers and there were no escaping his hungry kisses;
'I think we have honored enough traditions for one night my love.'
'Éomer…' Aema giggled. He rose on his arms and looked her straight in the eyes;
'You are mine, never again shall doubt take hold of me.' His voice was somewhat demanding and she recalled how she only moments ago had been uncertain if she would ever find herself in his arms again. 'Min'litha, my love!' he chuckled. 'You will indeed be the end of me.' He showered her in warm kisses. The emotions ran through her as a fierce flood of the rivers in springtime. In his arms she felt sheltered from winter. Never again did she want to sense his cold. The spring of her heart had finally arrived. This man brought life back to her and right now he wanted to show just how much he loved her and against him, Aema was defenseless. Her better judgment surrendered to his touch and in the darkest hour of nightfall, she lost herself in the whirling flow of desire.
THE END
That's it people. That's as far as I got in my first ever attempt at writing this kind of stuff.
Thank you for reading, and for not judging too hard, I hope you have enjoyed it.
If you'd like to know what happens to these two,
please read the sequel "Summer's Breeze - Autumn's Storm" and the third part of their story called "By Winter All Shall Wither"
Please share with me if you have any thoughts on it, it is quite impossible to be objective so anything that can help me improve or words of encouragement too of course, are a very welcome addition. I'm kind of playing with the thought of a sequel, let me know if you have any good ideas on how this story could progress. Again, really appreciate you all taking the time. Thank you!
/MRSCVDL
