SWEAR I AM NOT DOING THIS ON PURPOSE! :( ANYWAY, REVIEW RESPONSE TIME!
Emperor DeLacus: Well, of course Eomer's protective of Winnie! ;) She's his wife! Plus, she nearly died from that poisoned arrows, so that didn't help. Glad you liked it!
Jo: Thank you!
GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER
Too late. No way I was getting sleep now.
"Good morning, mo gra." I reply. He sighs, sinking into the mattress.
"If only it were, after yesterday." I force myself to turn over and ignore the flare of pain this brings to look him in the eye.
"My mom always says 'tomorrow is a fresh day. Don't let the troubles of yesterday affect today too much', or something to that effect. I'm butchering the exact quote, but the meaning was clear; don't worry so much about what was and live a day at a time." I sigh heavily, then smile. "You know...it's about time for breakfast and I'm hungry." He smiles, sighs and stands, gallantly sweeping me into his strong arms and nuzzling my neck lovingly.
"As am I, Deorest." I chuckle at the unfamiliar term.
"'Deorest'?" I ask playfully as I am carried out to the very bench I'd sat on not an hour ago. Eomer settles himself on the bench with me in his lap.
"It means 'beloved' or 'dearest' in the Rohirric tongue. Much like min leof, or mo gra in your tongue." I nod, smiling.
"I'll add it my list of names." I quip, settling myself so I can kiss my loving husband. He deepens the kiss hungrily before slowly breaking apart, leaning his forehead against mine.
"I fear that list will grow. 'Your Majesty', 'Milady', 'Mistress' will be frequent titles for you." I sigh. I can tell it's meant seriously, but can't let all the humor leave. It's hard to coax it out of it's cave these days.
"I know." I crack a smirk. "Pity. I had just gotten people to stop with the formal titles. Now, I fear they will be doubled." He chuckles a little and I lean in to peck his cheek. "But, as long as I am your wife, and your Deorest, there's no title that could scare me away or make me regret my decision to marry you." He merely claims my mouth with his again and we know nothing more than pure love and bliss for a long moment.
"I would say the same to you, my love." He breaths. I smile, leaning my forehead on his.
"Now...I seem to recall us discussing something about food?" I ask wryly, smirking. He laughs.
"Indeed. Let us see if we can find something."
"I can help with that." Comes a gruff voice I didn't think I'd get to hear again, at least for a long time.
Gimli. I whirl and almost fall to the floor, Eomer's strong arms all that spared me. I laugh as we both stand.
"Morning, Gimli!" I greet happily, grimacing a little as his strong arms encase my waist. When he pulls away, his eyes wrinkle in a wry grin that does not bode well. At all.
"I hear you and your horse-lord are married, milady." He muses with a knowing smirk. "Couldn't restrain yourself, eh, laddie?" He asks, nudging Eomer with his elbow, striking my husband's hip. I stand, leaning on Eomer for support as I grin. With Gimli, wry humor and blunt wit were the way to go.
"It was actually a mutual agreement that we shouldn't wait too long." I reply, sounding innocent, but smirking wryly. Gimli gapes for a moment before guffawing and clapping my and Eomer's shoulders.
"May Durin bless you both." He says heartily. "Now, Aragorn has gotten slightly ahead of me in our journey to find sustenance since I heard you two lovesick fools. What say we catch up and have a Gondorian breakfast with the soon-to-be King of Gondor?" He asks jovially, striking out at a healthy pace I can't quite keep up with.
"Gimli, slow- -ow!- -slow down!" I call, wincing as I stumble a little, that blasted hip acting up again. I shake my head at Eomer's clear invitation to resume the bridal style carry once again. "As long as our guide slows down, I'll be fine." I tell my King and husband. Gimli pales when he see my hand clasp my injury.
"Milady, are you hurt?!" He all but squeaks, flushed in embarrassment. I grin.
"Merely an arrow wound. Feels better than yesterday, but still hurts." He frowns.
"And you are walking already? Surely, Winnie, you are the hardiest woman I've ever met." He replies, gallantly drawing my arm over his shoulders and leading me away, leaving me to gaze back with exasperated fondness at Eomer. He laughs and follows easily.
=#=#=#=#=
As soon as I see Aragorn, I grin widely and leave Gimli to (as best I can) run forward and hug my friend.
"Don't you ever scare me like that again!" I bark, drawing away and punching his shoulder. "I heard all about the Paths of the Dead, and then you go down there with those Rangers and Legolas and Gimli, and...and I thought I'd never see my adopted older brother again!" Suddenly, I'm going from fondly frustrated to slightly depressed and worried. "You're okay, right? What happened?" I ask, now going straight to an almost maternal concern. Bema, what is wrong with me?! Aragorn chuckles.
"It is not as dangerous as some say it is, the Paths of the Dead. That is, as long as the King of Gondor travels with you. Only he can control those that dwell down that dark path." He replies. I nod.
"So, you set out to discover and lead an invincible army into battle to reclaim Minas Tirith and Osgiliath with your Rangers as back up, with no guarantee it would work when you began to ride down the path?" I ask, slightly incredulous and feeling almost childishly inquisitive. Aragorn nods.
"Essentially, yes. I knew I had to at least try, if it could even possibly help us win this war." He says as we find ourselves in a small tavern, tucked away down a side street and almost invisible to the unattentive observer.
"You're insane, but it did help, so…" I quip, shrugging with a wry grin, as we sit at a table, inconspicuous and just another set of customers to be served. I liked it here already. We're served water or ale (whichever we chose; I wanted water), bread, meat, and cheese with boiled eggs and we tuck in heartily.
"How'd you find this place, Aragorn?" I ask, sipping my water. He sighs contentedly and leans back against the back of the bench we sit at.
"I once served Gondor under the name Thorongil. This was the tavern I most frequented. Fortunately, the bartender can turn a blind eye, as long as his patrons pay the required price for his goods." I nod.
"It's not bad food, either. Good choice." The food is then eaten with little more words. Then, nearing ten in the morning, we left, only to run into a messenger along the way back to the Houses of Healing.
"Milord Eomer King," The man stammered out, breathless from running, "I've been sent by Mithrandir to inform you that your sister, the Lady Eowyn, has awoken and asked for you to, and I quote, 'get his newlywed arse over here immediately, or face the consequences'." He finishes with a smirk. Eomer laughs.
"Well, then. I shall go." He says, subtly taking my hand. "That is, if Eowyn would permit her marriage sister to accompany me." The man smirks.
"I do not doubt she'd allow it." He replies. We are led to Eowyn's ward in the wing adjacent to the one we'd been staying in in the Houses of Healing and find that Eowyn is seated, propped up by pillows. Her eyes light up when she sees us, but I can hardly notice as my breath slips away from me and I begin to feel increasingly woozy. Perhaps going up all those stairs two at a time was not my brightest moment.
"Hello, brother!" She greets. "And my marriage sister! Oh, I am so happy you're alright, Rowena. I heard about what happened and feared the worst. They told me- -well, doesn't matter; it was more than a lie told in a fevered dream." There's something she's not saying, but I let it slide, unwilling to press her just yet, at least not until the world stopped tilting and spinning. "I am so glad to see you alive and well!" I smile, but can't manage to do much of anything else for a moment as my head swirls almost painfully, my ears ringing with the lack of blood. It felt like I'd either stood up too fast, or had been doing a handstand for several minutes.
"The wound's getting...better…I thought..." I mumble, feeling increasingly dizzy. "Oh, boy..." I blearily add as I all but collapse to the floor.
"Deorest, what is it?!" Eomer asks in shock and worry.
"I just...man, I...I don't- -Agh!" I suddenly double over as my stomach writhes in agony. Immediately, I am in my husband's arms and he leaves the room, all but bumping into Seanathair.
"Mithrandir!" He greets hurriedly. "Something ails Rowena. Can you help?" Seanathair motions Eomer to an armchair in the ward we'd just left and in seconds, I am settled in it and my grandfather approaches. The pain increases and I hiss, clutching my husband's forearm tightly.
"St-stomach hurts." I tell Seanathair through the waves of increasing agony. "It just...just came on me suddenly. I don't know what's wrong!" He nods and gently lays a hand on my stomach, mumbling those beautifully strange words under his breath. Then, the pain slowly lessens and then becomes only a minor annoyance, but easily manageable. I breath out in relief. "Thanks." Then, as if the use of magic had unlocked it, the memory of my dream last night becomes crystal clear. I set it aside, though, for the moment. What had just happened to me was slightly more pressing. "What happened? One moment, I was fine, and then...it's like I just instantaneously got sick." Seanathair smiles knowingly and stands, patting my shoulder.
"Aye, that was most unfortunate. However, this sudden sickness was caused by the natural consequence of marriage." He informs us cryptically. I raise a brow.
"Meaning?" I ask, suddenly fearing I knew the answer. Thinking back, I've always felt a bit...off since the wedding night. Not always in a bad way, and the feeling dissipates around one or so in the afternoon. Also, I was due for a...cycle and it hadn't happened yet. My eyes widen in sudden realization.
Frick! I know what it means!
"There will be an Heir of Rohan before long. Congratulations, henig, and to your husband, as well." Seanathair replies, kissing my fringe before clasping Eomer's shoulder heartily. It seems we both have forgotten to breath, even more so when we're suddenly kissing passionately, elation in the created life within me spilling over for all to see.
"Helle, brother. You got straight to business, didn't you?" Eowyn teases wryly. Eomer takes it fairly well, with both amusement, slight exasperation, and a dash of embarrassment as we break apart.
"I assure you, sweostor, this is merely a happy, unexpected embodiment of our love." My husband replies. I raise a brow.
"Please, someone, tell me what those Rohirric phrases mean. I'm starting to think you do it on purpose." I remark snidely, smirking. The siblings laugh.
"Glad to see you are on the mend, deorest. 'Helle' is a general curse meaning 'hell', and 'sweostor' simply means sister." Eomer explains patiently. "I had no intention of purposefully excluding you, Winnie. It is only that Rohirric is as part of us as our heart or mind." I nod.
"Okay. In that case, I have to learn it at some point. It's a neat language." I suddenly yawn. How am I tired? It hasn't been that long since I woke up! "Geez! I only woke up a few- -" another blasted yawn interrupts me, "few hours ago!" I shake my head to clear it of tiredness.
"Perhaps I should take Winnie to her cot." Eomer remarks, smiling. I playfully smack his arm.
"I'm fine, ordugh!" I protest. "By the way, orudgh means 'dearest' in my land's language." I add. Eomer smiles lovingly at me.
"Mayhaps I should learn your tongue in return for teaching you Rohirric, deoerest." He then draws me gently into his lap. "Now, I must return you to our cot." I shake my head.
"No, no! I'm fine now…" But, just then, I am betrayed by another yawn. "Frick. I really am fine." Eomer nuzzles my neck as we stand.
"My love, it could not hurt to rest a little more, with the child you bear, could it?" I sigh in resignation. He could be stubborn on anything he really wanted. I'd never get him to change his mind.
"As long as Eowyn doesn't mind." I reply. The lady in question smiles.
"Of course not. You must take care of yourself, Winnie. I do not mind not talking to you for a few hours." I nod, yawning again.
"Then that's how long I'll rest. Shall we say...about one in the afternoon?" I ask. She and Eomer nod.
"Very well." They say, nearly in unison. I am then scooped up once more. I playfully struggle for a moment before calming.
"Eomer, you really don't have to carry me everywhere." He merely scoffs as we exit the room.
"While you carry our child and heir? I think not, deorest. I shall be your steed for the time being." I roll my eyes.
"I'd rather a gentleman to merely hold my hand as we walk." I reply. He smiles.
"If you are sure you are able to get to the cot." I sigh contentedly as we then walk hand in hand.
"If not, then you can carry me. Deal?" He smiles and kisses my temple.
"Deal, my love." He replies, and within ten minutes, we arrive, only to find that our cot had Eothain sitting on it, bandages around his head, centering around one eye. He was also smiling cheekily at us, so I knew he was out of danger.
"Ah, the royal couple." He greets, sombering only a little at the grief he held for his King's loss.
"I understood this to be our cot, Eothain." Eomer muses, smiling. Eothain shrugs.
"Well, I like it. That, and you've been given a more...appropriate ward." I frown.
"Pardon?"
"Well, seeing as you two form the leadership of Rohan now...it was decided you should have more royal accommodations." I roll my eyes. Already, I was tired of the 'royal treatment', and it had scarcely begun. Wonderful.
"And I assume you are waiting to guide us?" I ask, wry smirk betraying my stern voice. Eothain shakes his head.
"Nay, not I." He then points behind us and I turn to see Faramir, his shoulder bandages plainly visible under his tunic.