Chapter 2: Matrimony

A week passed by in a flurry of arrangements, dress fittings and hasty etiquette lessons chaperoned by the matron of the hall, a stern but kindhearted woman named Mathilde; Ithílwyn later discovered that she was Scyld's wife. Her presence reminded her very much of Ainsware, although she was considerably younger than the matron at Aldburg. Although she had been wary of her initially, Mathilde grew to embrace the new queen, taking her under her wing and teaching her all that she knew about maintaining the affairs at Meduseld. Ithílwyn herself was still unacquainted with all of Edoras, and Mathilde's tutelage proved useful to her. She was expected to handle the household affairs at Edoras with the matron's assistance, but she shyly acknowledged that Mathilde must be her guide for now, and that her wisdom would inform the queen's decisions.

It was a simple ceremony, with all the nobles in attendance. She shuddered as she stood by the entrance to the Great Hall, suddenly overcome with a wave of fear. Mathilde stood close by and gave her a small but reassuring smile before disappearing to take her place in the crowd by her husband. Éowyn stood next to her and held her hand. "You know, dear sister, it is past the time for running away. And if you are contemplating it, then I cannot risk my brother's wrath by helping you," she teased.

Ithílwyn gulped, her eyes wide with fear despite her sister's lighthearted quip. "I am very scared, Lady Éowyn," she admitted, feeling her knees trembling.

Éowyn smiled and gripped her by the shoulders. "I recognise this feeling, and heed this advice. It must be difficult to feel all alone, in a strange place among hostile people but these are now your people, however much they love or hate you. What you do will affect them, and you now have authority to increase their joy or bring pain upon them. Perhaps you do not know this, but although you may consider Éomer above your station because he is a descendant of Eorl, my brother needs you. He is greatly burdened by his power and forced to confront a maelstrom of decisions everyday, decisions that affect the livelihoods of many and weigh greatly on his mind. You will need to provide him with strength, wisdom and affection so that he can rule wisely. Be wary of those who would seek to encourage their selfish interests by associating with you. Now, do not cry, for this is a joyous occasion."

"I do not want to disappoint your brother, or you."

"Or Eorl himself, I suppose? My great grandfather made poor decisions and greatly reduced Rohan's riches. Not all of us who are noble are wise, Ithílwyn. All you need to do is love my brother with your heart and care for the people of the Mark as if they were your children. Since you have already accomplished the first task, you now only have one other mission, and I am proud to call you my queen. So is Éomer, and he is ready for you." The doors opened as Éowyn gave Ithílwyn a slight push towards the door, guards bowing their heads as she was introduced to the Great Hall as Lady Mildred of the Mark. She approached the throne where Éomer stood beaming at her. She drew strength from his warm smile and drew closer, kneeling before the throne.

"Rise, Mildred daughter of Aedgar," Clanheort spoke, his rich voice filling the Hall. Éomer took her hand and helped her up as she stood beside him and beheld the stern faced nobles. She swallowed and reminded herself to maintain a dignified appearance, despite her knees threatening to dissolve and her back on the verge of collapsing.

"Éomer king, do you have evidence that this woman had pledged her troth to you and you likewise?"

"Aye," Éomer stated in his deep voice, smiling smugly as he brought out a piece of parchment signed by Théoden King. Their marriage certificate was presented to the lords for a thorough inspection of its legitimacy, for formality's sake. He winked at her as the men of his council murmured amongst themselves. After a while, they passed the certificate back to Clanheort and nodded simultaneously. "Now, brethren we have seen the evidence and confirmed it's legitimacy."

A chorus of ayes came in response. The lords appeared stern, and they seemed to stare at her with such calculative and judgmental glances that a shudder ran through her. Her train of thought was interrupted as the ceremony continued.

"Do you lord Éomer accept this woman to be your queen, to rule beside you and provide heirs of your blood?" Éomer nodded solemnly and squeezed her hand.

"Lady Mildred, wilt thou submit to the kingship of Lord Éomer, and serve him as his consort and to further the line of Eorl? Wilt thou serve the people of the Mark as their queen and show them compassion, gentleness and grace?"

"Aye," she spoke as loud as she could.

"My lords, thou hast witnessed their pledge. Dost thou swear to serve your lord and his lady, serving none other and defending their honour all the days of their lives?"

"Aye," a softer chorus replied and Ithílwyn spied several glancing her way with distrust. But before she could dwell on the thought, Éomer placed a gold circlet on her crown, lifted her feet of the ground most unceremoniously and kissed her. There were loud cheers as she stood in front of her husband and king, dazed and suddenly feeling a great weight upon her. But somewhere between the myriad of emotions, she recognised joy.

"Do not worry so much, enjoy tonight for they are celebrating you. I have you, and you have me. You are alone no longer, and I am equally blessed. Éomer Éadig they shall name me, for I am blessed to be loved by one such as you," he whispered in her ear, and kissed her cheek lovingly. "Behold, the king and queen of the Mark. All hail the king! All hail the Queen! Long may they reign and may their union bless the green plains of Rohan." The people bowed their heads in deference. "My lady," Clanheort addressed respectfully and stepped down from the dais.

"My people, tonight I invite you to share in my joy, my blessing, my wife and friend. We shall feast..." here he paused as he held up his cup. The people followed suit and raised their ale-filled cups in the air.

"Aye!" they chorused as laughter began filling the room.

Éomer smiled at the crowd knowingly with a gleam of mischief twinkling in his eye. "And sing!" he continued.

"Aye," clamoured the people, louder than before.

"And make merry in honour of your new queen!" he roared. Ithílwyn smiled up at him as he kissed her deeply, his mug sloshing with ale.

"To the king and queen! Long may they reign!" they shouted in return. The crowd cheered and emptied their tankards as the servants began to bring in platters of meat and bread, the start of a long, but mirthful night.

Much later, in the confines of the royal bedchambers, he poured some wine and presented it to his wife, who was occupied with removing pins of all sizes from her elaborate coiffure. He placed the wine in front of her and kissed the curve of her neck, quite unable to resist touching her. "You look so beautiful, Ithíl," he murmured, his lips moving against her skin. As he helped rid her glorious locks of silky hair of pins, he was suddenly overcome with emotion. "I love you, Ithíl, and I do not want you to forget or diminish the depths of my affection for you."

"How can I forget? You keep repeating yourself dear husband, and I love you as well," she replied, laughing as shook her thick locks free, causing his heart to pound with anticipation and desire. He bowed low before her and offered his hand, "May I have the honour of dancing with you?"

"What a well mannered lord," Ithílwyn teased as she accepted his hand gracefully. With startling speed and force, he drew her to him and planted a deep kiss on her lips.

"Forgive me, but I cannot resist such an enchanting lady." He began to hum and she followed the rhythm of his swaying. He breathed in the scent of her hair, as she listened to the beating of his heart. "I belong to you, Ithílwyn," he whispered. "Now, and forevermore." She pulled away from him gently, noticing something wet on her cheek.

"Why are you crying?" she asked out of concern, wiping his tears with her fingers.

"I am filled with joy, my love," he replied, smiling and laughing despite the tears rolling down his face. Giggles escaped Ithílwyn, and she did not notice Éomer wiping tears from her cheeks. A silence descended on them, as they beheld each other.

"This moment is sacred, can you feel it?" She nodded, still listening to the thrumming of his heart. He knelt in front of her and she followed suit, facing each other by the firelight.

"Ithíl," he murmured her name.

"Éomer," she said, looking deeply into his eyes and blushing to the tips of her toes.

"My wife, I pledge my blood and flesh before you. All of my being belongs to you, and I will protect you, serve you, comfort you all the days of my life. Tears I shall wipe away, and your heart I shall fill with joy. My soul is yours, as yours as is mine and we shall not be parted, not by suffering, not even by death."

"My husband," she whispered, blubbering as she spoke. "I pledge my service to you. I vow to care and love you as long as I shall have breath. Tears I shall wipe away, and your heart I shall fill with joy. My soul is yours, as yours is mine. We shall not be parted, not by suffering, not even by death."

Éomer rose and carried her in his arms and laid her gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving her. "I do not want this night to end," she confessed, stroking the side of his face. "Oh, Ithíl, my love, we have many, many nights like these ahead of us and my heart is bursting with joy at the prospect of such contentment," he breathed, placing kisses from the corner of her lips to her collarbone, his fingers working nimbly at unbuttoning her dress. She smiled, sighing with pleasure as her husband worshipped her body and soul.

"You should be happy," Éomer reminded her, confused as to Ithílwyn's rather austere disposition as they were sharing a midday meal. She had been more sombre as of late, a frown always present on her usually smooth brow. He had seen little of her since her coronation, and he wondered whether his wife was as tense in his absence.

"Perhaps, but there is much to consider, and it is overwhelming," she answered in a small voice, pressing the tips of her fingers to her aching temple.

"I understand that it is difficult," he took her hand and gave it a little squeeze.

She let out a sigh and pulled her hand away, toying with the food on her plate. He masked his hurt at her rejection, despite knowing that it was not wholly his fault. "But you have grown up in court, and you have noble breeding. You have little to worry about, besides you have met kings and princes from faraway countries, dignitaries and nobles of great houses. You were taught how to carry yourself in a dignified manner, but I," her voice faltered. "That was not my childhood, I fear I will be a great cause of embarrassment to you." Éomer chuckled and kissed her cheek lovingly. He then lifted one side of his rump and let out such a loud feortan that the serving ladies let out a shocked gasp. Ithílwyn stared at him in disbelief while he buttered bread, whistling a merry tune, seemingly very pleased with himself.

"Éomer!" she chastised though the ends of her lips were curved into a mischievous smile. He missed that side of his wife, she was no longer playful nor as humorous as she had been since she became queen, and he noticed how little she smiled. She always managed to muster one for him, but it was not sincere, and she rarely laughed. He worried that she was overexerting herself, and that she was placing expectations far too lofty for any woman, noble or common, to achieve.

He chewed noisily and sipped on some ale with indifference to his social misdemeanour. "I may have been raised in court, but I spent many years in the fields, camping on green grass and eating wild animals. I am a king, yea but I am accustomed to life as a Rider and you, my dearest, loveliest Ithílwyn are in possession of dignity and grace that far exceeds the most polite and noble-bred of my Riders. Besides, I think you move as gracefully as a nymph and have as much dignity as a proud lily. You have greatly honoured me, Ithílwyn, with the prospect of being your husband. I am grateful that you remained at my side knowing that it is a great challenge to bear with a man like me. You dismiss any mention of praise for all that you have accomplished, but I am not fooled, I see the effort to which you strive on my behalf, to aid me in my struggle and to serve your people. You have adjusted far better than I expected, my love, and I could not be more proud of the woman I married. I love you with all my heart, it shall forever be yours."

"I shall keep it well, husband," she answered with barely suppressed bliss, taking his hand. Her smile, he deemed, was his greatest triumph of that day.