Disclaimer: See the Prologue. Gwen is mine.

I'm hoping to have a couple more chapters up today! So sorry for the stilted update schedule - after my husband deploys I'll have that "wiggle room" time to write like I'd like. Thanks for understanding and I truly appreciate all reviews and support this story is receiving.


The Light Within

Chapter Forty-Four: Hot and Cold

by: Sherrywine


Éomer led Gwen away feeling a sense of dread. He didn't want to have this conversation at all, but his honor demanded that he seek Gwen's forgiveness for his indecent handling of her, and swear to never touch her again. Even as all his body seemed to want to do in this moment with her was continue down the road on which they had started. Internally, he cursed himself. Damn it, I don't have a choice. Especially now that his uncle had made him heir. There was no other option for them but this.

He stopped a short ways from the training grounds, seeking privacy for himself and her. When Éomer turned and looked at down at her, he carefully hid his immediate, gut-punching reaction to how close she was. Éomer met her innocent gaze and read the clear desire there, on one hand pleased at his affect on her, and on the other knowing that it had created this mess between them. She is Éowyn's friend, and a good woman. Remember that, Éomer. He cautioned himself to tread carefully.

Her eyes bled rising confusion at his stoic, unexpected reactions, and he cursed himself yet again. In doing his duty, she would believe he was toying with her. "What can I do for you, Éomer?," Gwendolyn asked tentatively, in a soft, sexy voice that made his body tighten with a wave of lust. You can do so many things for me, little one. Éomer removed himself from those thoughts, but it took all of his control not to draw her against his body as her eyes begged him to. Hastily, he cleared his throat, determined to finish this quickly.

"I wanted to take the time and apologize to you for my behavior yesterday, Gwendolyn," Éomer replied lowly. He could see these words were unexpected to her. She looked stunned. You are doing the right thing, he reminded himself. It didn't feel right, though. Still, he continued, "It was wrong of me to touch you as I did, without permission, and I want to assure you that it will never again." By Bema, what a lie. It would take all his willpower to make it true. Éomer could barely look at her, but the shock in her face was clear; Gwen had been expecting something else entirely.

"I never want to dishonor you, milady," Éomer murmured, bowing low before her in supplication, hoping beyond hope she would read his own desires despite his words. She seemed unable to form a reply, so he quickly excused himself and walked back to the training ring, leaving her standing there disappointed and alone. Gwen nor Éomer noticed Grimbold turn away from the scene with a shake of his head.


Hours later, Gwen stood, chilled to the bone, as an icy gust of wind swept through the village proper. The frigidness of the air was shocking, made more so by the contrasting clear, sunny day. "When does it get warm around here, again?" She called over her shoulder to Edda as she hunched into her work, glancing at the pudgy Eorlingas woman with a round, kind face and brown eyes. Gwen wanted spring to come with a vengeance already; Winter in Rohan was bitter. The other woman swatted one of her sons on the head with a rag playfully before turning to Gwen with a laugh splitting her features. "Oh, not for another moon, I'll wager," the woman replied sympathetically, setting a wicker basket at Gwen's side, smiling at the pouting face the shorter woman made at the darkening sky. Hands on her hips, Edda pointed at the low clothesline Gwen stood at, slowly taking clothes from the line to fold.

"You sure you don't mind doin' that laundry, girl?" she asked with an unsure expression on her brown and leathered face. Gwen smiled back at the heavy-set woman brightly. "Not at all," she insisted, pulling the linens from the older woman's hands. "I was going stir crazy in that hall today," Gwen laughed, "Aand needed to get out!" Edda laughed gaily at the odd, yet kind-hearted girl; the sound was deeper than Gwen's own, and more mellow.

"Yes, well, the ladies and I always have somethin' we could be givin' you to do," Edda replied, "For as long as your offerin'." Absently, with the blasé air of a woman long-used to doing so, she turned to reprimand another young son, this time for tormenting his sister. Both children were under the age of ten, by Gwen's estimation, and extremely energetic. They were both blonde and happy, despite being obviously poor. Lost in thought, Gwen continued to remove clothing from the line absently. She had come here desperately needed a change of scenery from the growing intrigues and talks of the hall, and had chosen to walk down through the city that morning, stopping to speak with every person who recalled her from the previous day. Which was damn near every one, too.

Seeing Edda so busy corralling children in front of the house, making lunch for her family, and feeding her newborn all at once stirred Gwen's sense of compassion. There was a lot she could do to be a good Samaritan, as her mother always wanted her to be. With that in mind, Gwen had offered to help her with a few of the household chores that needing doing, and had been there, in her home, ever since. "Bless you, Lady Gwen," the grateful mother said, nodding toward the laundry. "You are a truly kind woman, to be sure." Edda radiated thankfulness, and Gwen nodded, smiling. It always felt good to help people.

Edda disappeared into her home to make dinner, leaving Gwen to sounds of the village. Suddenly, a darkly-clad young soldier appeared on the road, hollering for help in Rohirric. Gwen had gotten Éowyn to teach her only simple phrases so far, and didn't recognize all the words the soldier spoke, but the tone was sufficient enough to understand his need was urgent. What on Earth? Quizzically, she studied the man.

Catching sight of Gwen outside with the laundry, the stranger ran towards her, speaking in Rohirric swiftly, and motioning for her to come with him. Gwen was not able to understand even a word of what he spoke. His eyes kept darting between her face and her hands, and he was pointing at them insistently. What is he saying? Gwen was confused. Drawn out of the house again by the noise, Edda stepped outside to see what was the matter. Frustrated with Gwen's lack of understanding, the soldier turned instead to the older Eorlingas woman, speaking in rapid-fire Rohirric. Edda's eyes grew wide with concern, and she nodded before turning to Gwen. "He says he needs you to come with him now," Edda translated solemnly. "There is a mare in the stables who has foaled early this year, and that he and his commander, Hammalbrand, need you to come and help." She paused, listening to the soldier explain further.

Though Gwen recognized Hammalbrand's name, she was confused as to why he would need her to help with a foal being born. The young soldier made a sound of frustration and spoke again to Edda, who said, "You have small hands," she explained. "They are needed." Still confused but convinced to go with the man, Gwen nodded, placed the laundry she had folded by the door, and followed the soldier up the street. Okay...what can I do that they can't?

"Don't wait up for me, Edda!" Gwen called back before looking to see Edda waving her towel in response. Gwen followed the soldier as quickly as she could, not knowing what was wrong. She wondered what they could possibly need her for. I know next to nothing about animal husbandry! She wasn't a particularly unique healer either. Nonetheless, Gwen hurried along behind the soldier, and soon they were standing inside the cavernous Royal Stables of Meduseld, where all the many horses of the royal family were housed. The smell of horseflesh and cedar filled her nostrils, and she understood immediately why Éomer always smelled as he did. Clearly, he spent a great deal of time in this place.

Just the scent of him made her flush, but remembering his insistence that nothing could ever happen between them again made her mentally come up short. Some things weren't meant to be. She would just have to work to let go of whatever spark there was between them. Thoughts returning to the matter at hand, Gwen searched for and found Hammalbrand waiting anxiously at the stable doors, and when he saw her, he looked relieved to see her. "Oh, bless you," he gasped in relief. "You'll be perfect!" To the soldier, he said, "Thank you, Deran. That will be all. Return to your post." He turned back to Gwen and grabbed her between his hands. "I am so glad he found someone," Hammalbrand exclaimed, pulling her past several stalls as he spoke. "I was worried that all the women nearby would be unable to help!"

He pulled a confused Gwen into a very large stall strewn with dusty hay, where she was unsurprised to find a haggard-looking Éomer and a sweaty Grimbold sitting in the hay next to a very pregnant, heaving horse. For a moment, Gwen was shocked that Éomer would ne here. Of course he'd be with the horses if there was a problem. He didn't look up as they entered, so he didn't immediately notice her presence. Seeing him attempting to comfort the creature turned over her heart.

Taking in the sight of the poor, obviously distressed animal, Gwen looked to the older warrior for answers. "What's going on, Hammalbrand?" she murmured softly. Éomer's eyes shot up at the sound of her voice, but a loud, horsy cry filled the air in place of Hammalbrand's reply. Éomer's sharp, familiar piercing gaze found hers, and her heart moved again when she saw the anxiety lacing his normally fierce, flat eyes. After a moment, the horse quieted.

Hammalbrand quickly explained, waving down at the huge grey beast. "This mare was allowed to breed too early – a mistake in fields, I am sure, Lord Éomer," he added hastily when the royal looked away from the sweating beast to scowl darkly. Hammalbrand brought his attention back to her. "This is her first foal, and it is always the hardest, of course, under normal circumstances." Obviously. The mare was covered in a shiny sheen of sweat, and was panting deeply between brays. It was obvious at the first glance that she was in distress. Grimbold was rubbing the mare with a wet bit of cloth, clucking soothingly at her. "She is in labor, Lady Gwen, as you can see," Hammalbrand explained, motioning with his hands expressively. Gwen couldn't miss the worry in his eyes. "And it isn't going well. The foal is turned wrong inside the womb, which is why she looks so large." Instantly, Gwen grasped the enormity of the problem. Even in humans, a breech birth could mean countless problems. Oh that's not good.

"They will both die if we cannot get it turned," Grimbold added darkly, and the gravel in his voice made her shiver. Clearly, he was upset. Gwen met his eyes, moved by his emotion for the creature, before looking at the poor, suffering mare. She was a delicately boned beauty, for sure. Éomer's face contorted with every agonized whinny she gave, and he was obviously very concerned for this horse. In that moment, she began to understand how the Rohirrim were considered the horse-lords of Middle Earth. They shared a unique bond with the creatures, clearly. Her heart clenched, and Gwen nodded to the older man at her side.

She needed no convincing. "What can I do to help?" Gwen asked resolutely, kneeling down beside the stricken creature She was determined to do whatever she could, if it would only take that horrified, genuinely afraid look from the eyes of the men. Because she felt brave, Gwen clasped Grimbold's slightly shaking hand with her own, gratified when his fingers clenched strongly around her own and held fast. The brawny warrior's eyes warmed when they met hers again, causing her to blush. She hadn't meant the gesture to be so intimate, but it was clear the other man had taken it that way.

Éomer's voice cut through Hammalbrand's, an anxious thread of sound that commanded strongly. "You must enter her, Gwendolyn," he ordered, "And turn the foal yourself." His eyes clashed with hers fiercely when she looked at him, surprised. "Our hands are much too large to fit, but yours will more easily." His fierce, aggressive gaze was on her in full force, and Gwen felt almost accused by his eyes, but his face held only anxiety. The warmth of Grimbold's grip on hers resettled her. They want me to do what, now? Aghast at the idea of entering an animal, Gwen almost refused, but another high, pained whinny sounded, and it tore at her heart, setting her determination to help. She shook her head, kneeling down more fully beside the animal, and Hammalbrand looked relieved at her near immediate acquiescence.

"First you will need - " Hammalbrand began, only to be cut off suddenly by Gwen, who rose abruptly. "I will need to wash my hands before we do this," she declared. Éomer's darkened eyes fell on hers, a silent push to explain herself. "It will help prevent sickness," Gwen said, realizing they must not have a real idea where infections came from in this world. She wouldn't waste time explaining furter now. "I need soap and hot water, Hammalbrand," Gwen commanded. The healer-warrior nodded and took off in search of what she asked for. Gwen watched as Grimbold caressed the mare's boxy head gently, crooning in Rohirric to her. Gwen's heart turned over at the tenderness he showed the laboring creature. His eyes moved to hers then, and something passed between them, making her shiver at the suddenness of it. He winked at her playfully even as he spoke sweet nothings to the creature. Gwen blushed. What is it about these men?

Hammalbrand returned with a sloshing bucket of hot water and a cake of lye soap, breaking the moment. He panted with exertion, showing Gwen just how quickly the old man had moved. Without a word she bent and took the soap to her hands and arms, not knowing how much of herself would be needed. Once she was satisfied most of the germs on her hands and arms were gone, she rinsed and flung her hands in the air to help dry them. Gwen knelt with Hammalbrand by the enormously bulging mound of horseflesh, and she nearly lost her nerve when the horse's abdomen contracted visibly, strongly.

Oh god, I can't believe I'm doing this. Gwen's stomach clenched in sympathetic pain for the creature. Hammalbrand was speaking, though, and Gwen forced herself to concentrate on his words. "After the contraction ends, Gwen, you need to enter her and feel around for the foal. Be quick," he cautioned, "Because you don't want her womb to clamp down on you during her pains. You will have to turn the foal head first between them. Understand?" She nodded, swallowing heavily, and already sweat covered her brow. It was hot in the stables. How had she ever been cold before? Gwen tried not to look at the poor horse's vagina, feeling like she was getting ready to violate the creature. They wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't necessary.

Éomer spoke to the mare almost constantly now, and she could barely understand a word of what he was saying. He was crooning. Grimbold was watching her keenly, and he tugged on her braid to get her attention. "You can do this, beauty," he murmured gently, intimately, and his words warmed her in that moment. Grimbold was no Éomer, but he was charming and sweet to her, and also very handsome. Gwen smiled nervously at him and nodded in reply, swallowing hard. She missed how Éomer scowled at them over the top of the horse. When the mare stopped shuddering and relaxed, Gwen took a deep breath and at Hammalbrand's command, pressed her hand into the mare's flesh. She tried to focus on her task, but the animal's shudder as she entered her womb made her want to gag. Luckily for her the horse made no sound at this invasion, and only trembled in pain. Oh my god, this poor sweet baby. Hammalbrand was speaking to her again. "Be careful of the wee hooves, lass," the older man crooned softly. "They will be sharp."

Nodding, Gwen felt around for the foal, not really sure what it would feel like. Her hand bumped something lumpy and fleshy, and she figured she had found the baby. "I feel it," she breathed, huffing in effort. The work was slow going and more difficult than she expected, because the mare's great, wide muscles were pushing against her efforts at all times. Clumsily, Gwen felt what seemed to be a tiny little leg, and she traced its' direction to the hoof. Sure enough, the legs were downward.

Éomer's deep voice, low and crooning, stopped speaking to the horse for a moment to say, "Another contraction is coming, Gwendolyn," he warned her. She barely got her hand out in time. She didn't look at her gooey arm, knowing it would disgust her, and they waited through the contraction in silence. Grimbold was murmuring praise aloud – to her or the horse, Gwen didn't know, but his warm support made her feel better about all this. When the laborious push was over, she resumed her work, carefully nudging the poor foal around in its mother's womb. As she felt the long nose of the foal inside turn downward in the womb at last, a second head bumped her hand, making Gwen freeze.

"Uh, guys...I think there's a second foal in here," she puffed. All three men looked startled at the news. "That's nigh on impossible," Grimbold exclaimed after a heartbeat. Hammalbrand nodded and added, "Well get the first one turned and we'll worry about the second one after." Nodding, Gwen eased her hand back over the first foal, assuring herself it was in place to come out at the next contraction. "I think I've got it, Hammalbrand," she said, as Éomer announced, "Another, Gwendolyn." His warning was just in time too. Gwen exited the mare just as her contraction squeezed, and the poor girl rose up with the force of it, crying out. Gwen watched in amazement as the foal slid wetly out of the horse, landing in a heap of mucus-covered limbs in the straw.

The mare gave another shuddering cry as a second foal followed the first out, looking tiny and clearly unhealthy. The three of them watched for long minutes as the mare picked herself up and began to tend to her babies. "Twins!" Hammalbrand whispered, in awe, and with a curious sadness as well. Gwen didn't understand his emotions, but she felt as if she had accomplished something today after all. Grimbold hugged her close despite the muck covering her, which Gwen allowed herself to enjoy immensely in those moments, and Hammalbrand's words were the only speech anyone spoke for a while.


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