Quick warning of "Death of character" for this chapter and, honestly, following chapters. Don't want to give anything away (in case you aren't familiar with Eomer's story) but I don't want to upset anyone either.
Thank you to my reviewers for encouraging me!
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Chapter III: Elder brotherhood
'A girl, sire. The child is female,' the midwife said as she came out of the bedroom.
Eomund smiled joyfully, relieved. Suddenly, fear gripped him, 'And Theodwyn?'
'She is recovering quite well. She wishes to see you,' the woman said, smiling at his concerned grimace.
Eomund nodded and walked past her. Theodwyn looked up as he strode through the door, exhausted but proud of the tiny bundle in her arms.
'They tell me she is healthy. Is she not beautiful, Eomund?' she asked her husband.
'Aye, the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld,' he replied sincerely. He caught Theodwyn's raised eyebrow. 'Just like her mother,' he recovered quickly, stroking her cheek.
The proud parents smiled at the little girl as she waved her arm nonchalantly. She had light-golden wisps of hair and dark blue eyes which recoiled at the sunlight streaming on her small, round face. She was delicate and wee, weighing just over six pounds. And so went the birth of Eowyn, daughter of Kings, who would accomplish great things.
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'This is a hoof,' Eomer told his sister importantly.
Eowyn bent low to see the foal's feet from a better angle. She pushed her lips out in concentration: 'Hoof.'
The day was bright and windy. He could smell fires being started for luncheon across the old village. His stomach was beginning to growl aloud.
'Eowyn, we should go home now,' he said, pulling on her dress. 'Mumuh will have the midday meal ready soon.'
'No hungry. Want horse,' she said simply.
'But I am hungry. You will learn about horses later,' he said, poking her ribs. She tossed her white-gold hair in indignation and straightened her back.
'Now,' she crossed her arms stubbornly.
'We are going home, Eowyn,' he growled at her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the door of the stable. She understood there was nothing to be done, and followed her brother without a fuss. Her short legs struggled to match his stride, but she did not complain. She simply kept up.
'Eomer! Eomer, wait!' Eowyn tried to reach her brother, but he ran too quickly.
'Come along now,' he shouted back. How he loved to torment her. 'If you do not hurry, the orcs will catch you!'
'Nay, they will not! They will not,' she said, trying not to sound scared, but looking behind her just in case.
'Poor child,' he laughed at her. 'They will eat you, sweostor!'
She ran faster, trying desperately to catch him. Eomer turned a corner and disappeared from her sight. When she reached the house, he was nowhere to be seen. Thinking he simply kept running, she sprinted through an alley between the two houses. All of a sudden, he leaped out of the house to her left and tackled her to the ground. She screamed in surprise and frustration as he pulled her hair to bring her down quicker.
But luck was with Eowyn that day, for that was the exact house her mother had been visiting while Father was away fighting.
'What is happening out there?' A voice called from inside the house.
Eomer jumped up just as his mother came into the alley. Theodwyn pieced together the puzzle of her dirty children, crying daughter, and guilty-faced son very quickly. Glaring at Eomer to stay put, she turned back into the house, said her farewells, and walked back out. Eowyn had dried her tears and now went to her mother's side.
'To the house,' Theodwyn said sternly. Eomer knew he was in trouble and left without a word.
When the family reached their home, Eomer went straight to his room, awaiting the rage of his mother. Theodwyn cleaned Eowyn's face with a wet rag and kissed her forehead. When she felt Eomer had waited long enough, Theodwyn entered his room with her eyes flaming. He did not look at her. Eowyn's face peeked around the doorway to his bedroom curiously. Her mother was standing with her hands on her hips so that she could not see Eomer, but she knew his face must be blazing with anger and embarrassment.
'There is no honor in harming your sister who is four years your younger,' Theodwyn said, her voice raised slightly.
'Aye, Mother,' he replied, holding his chin up. 'I know.'
'Then why did you choose to do so? Son, you must think before you act. Do you think your father could have become Marshal without thinking? He could not. Men must think about the consequences of their actions or our race would have died long ago. Do you understand?' she said in the same angry tone.
'Aye, Mumuh,' he mumbled to the floor.
'Lóclóca on mec!' she cried. Eomer looked up sharply. 'Are you going to do this again?'
'Nay, Mother. Never,' he promised, looking into her eyes.
'Good. Now wash yourself before supper,' she said and left the room. Eowyn followed her mother to the eating table. She hoped her father would be home soon.
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'Papuh, when will I ride Frostfoot?' she asked as Eomer cleaned the hooves of the aging horse.
'Hmm, let me see. How old are you?' Eomund asked in mock concern.
'Six, papuh, six and a half-year!' Eowyn said excitedly.
'Aye, well that seems to be an appropriate age,' he replied, frowning and stroking his beard while his deep blue eyes flashed with a mischievous mirth. 'Come, we will ride to the gate of Aldburg together, price blostma,' he said, relishing the chance to teach his daughter as he taught his son years before. Six years had passed by with such haste.
'I want to ride him, Father,' Eomer said sternly as he stood and tossed his cleaning tool aside.
'Allow your sister a chance first, son. Perhaps we will ride tomorrow,' Eomund said.
'But she is just a girl and I am a grown man,' the ten-year-old said in defiance. 'Why should she ride today before me?'
'You think her to be beneath you?' Eomund growled.
Backpedaling immediately, Eomer said, 'Nay Father, never. I should not have questioned-.'
'Aye, you should not have. Is your head on straight?' Eomund's voice gradually grew louder and his face grew redder. 'I know it must have been backward, as I taught you better than to speak to me in this manner. Did I not?'
Eomer nodded a little sheepishly.
'Ácwiðe!' The Marshal ordered.
'Aye, Father, you did,' Eomer answered quickly. 'I was wrong and apologize for my behavior.'
'Do it again, and perhaps Eowyn will become an only child,' Eomund muttered, his temper beginning to cool. Eowyn looked from her father's face to her brother's, hoping the yelling had ended. Since it seemed to have passed, she wished to ride her horse.
'Papuh, may I ride the horse now?' she asked, pulling on his sleeve.
'Aye, Eowyn, let us ride through the town and allow your brother time to clean Frostfoot's stall,' Eomund said forcefully. The son simply nodded, inwardly cursing his brash mouth.
As the daughter joyfully ran outside, the father turned back to the boy he loved.
'Sometimes leaders must be last, Eomer. Hate not the task that is given to you, but perform it admirably- whether it be to clean a stall, love a woman, or ride to battle.'
'Aye, sire,' he responded in shock.
'I discipline you out of love, son, not pleasure. The two are not always bound together,' Eomund sighed, hoping the young boy would one day understand.
'Aye, sire,' he answered again, with more confidence. The man made to leave the stable, but Eomer called out to him.
'Father?'
'Son?' he replied, looking over his shoulder.
'I love you, too.'
The Marshal nodded, then stepped into the cold. Eomer felt pleased, looked at the horse-stall, and tried to think of his chore as a blessing.
Eomund wiped his cheek.
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'Eowyn, put that down,' Theodwyn said. 'It is time for sewing, not swordplay.'
Eowyn reluctantly laid down her wooden dagger and walked to her mother's side. Her arms were crossed, but she otherwise showed no hint of displeasure. Sewing was not her favorite pastime, but bathing was worse.
'When will Papuh be home, Mumuh?' she asked. She missed her father. When he was home, he would let her ride the horse, take her to the Great Tree, and most importantly, teach her how to wield a sword. Her little dagger was her most prized possession. Her father told her stories of the great Shieldmaidens of the North from many years ago, and when she grew up, she would be a shieldmaiden and defeat the black armies. It was her life's dream to become a Marshal of the Riddermark, just like her father. She could live at Meduseld with all her family to serve the king as a shieldmaiden. That would be the best life ever.
'He cannot come home for another week, dear,' Theodwyn said.
'But that is so long from now,' Eowyn whined.
'It is good that he travels away, for he is fighting to keep us and our lands safe,' Theodwyn said, half talking to herself.
'Aye, Mumuh,' Eowyn replied dolefully. 'But I wish he would fight faster.'
The bells in Aldburg Hall clanged, signalling that the Riders had returned. Seconds later the sound of hundreds of hoofs pounding the ground became clear. Theodwyn turned to the door of her house, confused.
'Papuh!' Eowyn exclaimed. She ran to the window facing the gate, watching for her father.
But she didn't see him.
Where is he? Where is Papuh? she thought.
A man she did not recognize came past the window. Her mother walked to the door to meet him. Her face seemed lighter in color than Eowyn was used to, for her mother usually had a very rosy complexion.
Theodwyn walked to the door where Fastred was tying his horse to their house. Her eyes were wide, her head felt muddled. She thought the worst. She put out a hand to the wall beside her. Fastred removed his helmet and combed his fingers through the mess of hair atop his head. Finally, he looked at her face. She saw the sorrow in his eyes and closed her own. He asked to come in. She stepped aside, her heart racing. It must burst through her chest! He held out his hand to her, and asked her to sit. She simply stared at him, not hearing his request.
'Aye,' he said, letting his hand drop. At that moment, Eowyn came running to her mother's side and wrapped her little arms around the woman, burying her face in the tawny dress. With one hand on her daughter's back, Theodwyn cocked her head to the left and waited for Fastred to speak. But he himself had sat down now, and rested his elbow on the table, cradling his forehead in one large hand. There were many seconds of silence that seemed to last an eternity. Eowyn peeked at the man sitting at her table. He had a large nose, bulky arms, and disheveled hair. He seemed a mess. She thought she glimpsed a tear roll down his cheek. But the man suddenly stood up, rubbed his hands on his face, and turned to look at the women before him. He took a deep breath.
'My lady,' he said finally. These words seemed to break her. Theodwyn fell against the wall and slid to the ground, her face buried in her hands. A small sob was just barely discernible. Eowyn watched her mother and did not understand. He was simply being polite. But she realized very soon that her mother was crying. Crying. And not out of frustration, or anger, but sadness. Eowyn felt something wet slide down her cheek. She was crying, too! Crying? No, Eowyn would not cry. She had no reason to cry. Shieldmaidens did not cry. But the confusion of feelings was too much for her, and the child, her father's little flower, wailed loudly. She fell down beside her mother, shaking from the sobs.
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Fastred watched the family fall apart. He had to help: but what could he do? Would Theodwyn be insulted if he invited her to stay with him? Perhaps he would do better to wait until the tears stopped flowing. Would it be wrong for him to leave? His evening would certainly be much easier. No, no he needed to stay and help. Eomund was his captain and friend. He would look after the family.
He took a step toward the crouching women, unsure of what exactly he planned to do. But his movement seemed to remind Theodwyn he was there. She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed. The dirt on her face was washed clean in two lines trailing from her eyes to her chin. His heart plummeted to his stomach. But amid the wave of pity he felt, he recognized a beautiful strength in her face. Her jaw was set, her eyes steady, and no more tears were falling from those cerulean orbs.
'How did it happen?' she asked, her voice heavy with emotion.
'He was fighting those bedeviled orcs, the accursed bane of our existence. We were ambushed in the Wold. When he had slain near twenty of the beasts, he followed the cowards running from him many yards until he was out of my sight,' he took a deep breath here. She simply watched him, her eyes beginning to water again.
'When...when the battle was won, we had lost six of our men-.'
'Who?' she interrupted.
'Hasomund, Helsar, Feltrist my mother's brother, Grunda, Frunga, and Darmund.'
A minute of silence followed his words as they bowed their heads in remembrance of the victorious dead. When her head lifted again, he finished the tale.
'I had gone to tell Eomund this information, because it is my duty to identify the bodies and recount the lost to the Marshal. But...but he was not to be found. I went searching for him and I found his-' Fastred hesitated, wondering how much he should tell her. Her eyes seemed to bore into him, asking for every detail he knew. He continued, as though he were making an official report.
'He had five bodies of the filth surrounding him, lying in a bloody circle. A cruel dagger was stuck in his leg, a spear in his side, and I found many gashes to his arms and chest.' Suddenly, his strength faltered. 'There was nothing to be done,' his voice trembled. 'I swear, I would have helped if I could have,' he begged her forgiveness, falling to his knees in front of her. 'But I could do nothing...nothing.'
'Quiet now, soldier,' Theodwyn said, reaching to rest her hand on his head. 'I can only forgive you so long as you forgive yourself. Please, tell me where my husband now lies in rest.'
He lifted his golden head, saw the truth and forgiveness mingled with sorrow in her eyes, and stood. Then he offered his hand to help her to her feet. The little girl, Eowyn, he thought she must be, watched his hand carefully. When her mother bent to pick her up, she continued to watch him with suspicion.
'Where is Papuh?' she asked.
'Papuh is gone, Eowyn,' Theodwyn said, looking into her daughter's eyes, which had changed from when she was a babe. His shape they held still, but they had darkened to grey, rather than blue.
'He is not gone. The eored has come home. Papuh is home. Papuh is not gone, he is not!' the girl burst into tears again. 'I want Papuh, where is he? Why can I not see him?' she wailed, rushing toward the man standing before her. She hated him. She wanted to hurt him for bringing this news. A hand came down and grabbed the back of her dress, keeping her from hitting him. And she knew, in her heart, that she would not see her father again.
He was gone.
He was dead.
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'Your husband is being carried here from the Wold. You will be the first to see him outside of the eored that traveled with him. Do...do you have funeral plans?' Fastred asked, back to business.
'Aye, we decided to hold the funeral here, in the Old Capital, and I will bury him next to his father,' Theodwyn said, matter of factly.
'Am I to assume that you yourself will sing him to sleep?' Fastred continued his questions.
'Aye,' she replied stiffly.
'Then all seems to be in order. I will return in two days with the King's Company. The Chief Marshal will have a proper send off,' he informed her. 'His body should be here soon. You may want to find your son before that happens.'
She nodded and he mounted his horse. Fastred rode away toward Edoras. She looked as he went, but she could not see him; she was only wondering how to tell Eomer about his father. She did not have long to think, as her eldest child came walking towards her from a ways off, carrying a rabbit in one hand and a bloody trap in the other. Eleven years old and catching his own meal.
He looked up and saw her waiting for him. The boy grinned and held up the rabbit in triumph, waving it to make sure she could not miss his trophy. She waved back, trying to smile, but her eyes only burned with fresh tears. She blinked rapidly, not wanting him to see her in such a state. Thinking quickly, she called for Eowyn to fetch water for boiling. Her deep breaths calmed the tears away by the time he could see her eyes clearly. Something lingered on her face. Some sadness would not leave her eyes, no matter how she smiled.
'Mother, what happened?' he asked in concern.
'Come inside, son. We can cook the game you have caught,' she said, deflecting his question.
'Aye, I'm starving,' Eomer replied, but he could not forget his mother's face.
They entered the house and Theodwyn seized her opportunity to reveal the news while Eowyn was away. She knew her son was only too similar to her beloved.
'Eomer.'
'Aye, mother?' he answered, his eyes widening at her tone.
'Son, your father...will not be coming home,' she said tentatively.
'What? What do you mean? He has left us?' Each question was like a knife in her heart.
'Yes, my son. Your father has gone.'
'Gone where?' he asked, refusing to understand.
'Gone...on,' she said. 'Where we cannot go, son.'
Eomer looked at her, his face reddening. His eyebrows furrowed as he understood.
'Nay, nay he has not! He would not go. He would have fought, he would have survived!'
'Sometimes...Eomer, I am sorry-.'
'No!' he screamed at her. His mother did not know what she was saying. She was foolish. His father could not have died. He picked up the nearest thing, a chair, and threw it into the table. A leg broke off and the back of the chair became dislodged from the seat.
'It is true,' she said, holding her hand out to touch him, to console him. The boy avoided her, smashing his fists into the wall. He rested his forehead against it.
'Nay, I cannot believe you. I cannot, I cannot,' he said, repeatedly slamming his open palm against the wall beside his ear. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He shook it off. He did not need her mollycoddling. He heard her sit down and sigh. How dare she be weak in a moment like this. This is when strength was needed. He turned around to confront her, angered by her weakness. But her face was hidden from him in her hands. He clenched his jaw. She could not even face him. He crossed his arms in agitation. She lowered her hands to look at him. Her eyes and nose were red, her cheeks wet. His mother had been weeping! All the anger seemed to flow out of his body. His protective instincts took over his mind, and he walked to her side.
'Mumuh?' he asked quietly. She took a deep breath before answering.
'Aye, son?'
'I apologize for my behavior. I should not have shouted at you,' he said.
'I know, Eomer. These things are hard to understand, and harder to accept,' she said with a sniffle.
He nodded, picking up the broken pieces of the chair.
'What are we going to do?' he asked after a few moments.
'We will prepare for the funeral. His body will be here soon.'
'Does Eowyn know?' he asked worriedly.
'Aye, she was with me when Fastred came bearing the news,' she said. 'I sent her to fetch water so that I could tell- wait. I think I hear her coming.'
Eowyn came through the door that moment carrying the water bucket, which was the same size as her whole torso.
'Eomer! You are home!' she said excitedly. Then her face fell and she put the bucket down slowly. She walked to her mother in a very deliberate manner. 'Mumuh, does he know about Papuh?' she whispered.
'Aye, dear. He knows.'
Eowyn turned toward him again. She walked to his side and wrapped her thin arms around him, burying her head in his chest. Theodwyn heard a muffled sob as she gazed upon her children. Eomer stiffened, surprised by this action and looked at his mother incredulously. Theodwyn smiled at him. Her face seemed to say it's alright. He relaxed his muscles and embraced his sister, patting her head a few times.
'We are going to be fine, sweostor,' he told her. She lifted her head.
'How do you know?' she asked sincerely.
'Mother will care for us. And I will always protect you,' he said.
'Promise?'
'Always, Eowyn. Forever.'
They all heard it at once: the sound of hoofs clopping and wheels rolling on uneven ground. Theodwyn knew he was here. He was finally here. She rushed out of the house, breathless, hurriedly wiping her face. A soldier, one whom she did not recognize, dismounted his horse and spoke to her.
'My lady. The Chief Marshal of the Riddermark and Lord of Aldburg, Eomund son of Eomar, has come home for the last time.'
She nodded, her throat too tight for words.
'We shall meet again Sunday at dawn, two nights from this day.'
'Farewell, beadurinc.'
'Farewell, lady.' He bowed his balding head to her and she curtsied.
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This was tough to write, but so important to Eomer's childhood. I hope I did it justice.
"Lóclóca on mec!"- Look at me!
"Ácwiðe!"- Answer!
"beadurinc" - soldier
Thank you for reading, as always.