Chapter 5: Misfit

A year soon passed, and with the passing of time came many changes. Éowyn had married Faramir son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor in the spring and left to join her husband in their new home at Emyn Arnen in Ithilien. Éomer was glad to see his sister blissfully married, but pained to have her depart from him, but they wrote constantly and as Ithílwyn also exchanged letters with her husband's sister, she knew they still bickered in the same affectionate manner.

Burga and several other families had left the village and started rebuilding the neighbouring village. Some of the adolescents that had been adopted by them went along. Their departure meant that there were vacancies in the village, and were soon quickly filled with new inhabitants who were eager to have a homestead of their own and work for their own livelihoods. In the infirmary, many who had suffered grievous injuries during the war were healed and discharged, and welcomed to learn skills, ready to begin life anew.

Of the orphans who weathered at Meduseld, many had found new homes. Even the young baby, who was eventually adopted by his wet nurse. She had moved back to her childhood home upon hearing word that her mother was alive and well. Ithílwyn was desolate to know of the baby's departure, for she dearly loved the infant who had brought much joy to her life. And yet, she was glad, for his new mother loved him and would care for him as he had helped her overcome the grief of her son's death.

Throughout the year, Éomer had been summoned by Gondor through the sending of the Red Arrow on three occasions and each time, Ithílwyn felt that his absence made the disappointment of his council all the more apparent at the lack of an heir. For children were being born, even Burga had written to inform that she would not be participating too actively in the rebuilding efforts as she was with child. And though Éomer was patient and reminded her constantly that this was not a concern, still she wished greatly that she could conceive.

So to prevent from being bitter about her barrenness, she delved into fulfilling her role as queen. She frequently travelled around Edoras, and visited villages to talk to the people living there. As more and more people left the stagnant Meduseld, they began to rebuild burnt down villages and form new settlements. Supplies were brought out for the rebuilding efforts at her behest and divided as needed, with Mathilde and her husband Scyld to advise her.

The summer saw an abundant harvest, and there was a great feast in Meduseld to celebrate the blessings of plentiful food, but also the victory in the War and to remember those who had given their lives so valiantly. And to those who yet lived, who still suffer the loss of loved ones and have to face each day without the comfort of family in the hope that there were better days to come.

Ithílwyn danced with Éomer and made merry with their guests, but they retired early to their bedchambers with the hall cheering and whistling knowingly. Ithílwyn was wearing a dark green dress that emphasised her luscious curves and Éomer could not resist much more. She had also revelled enthusiastically in the festivities and drank more ale, which caused her to make passionate advancements toward her husband as they were dancing, which only served to further his desire to take her to bed.

Once the door was slammed shut, Ithílwyn lunged forward to kiss Éomer, pushing him backwards against the door. He grunted, but soon reciprocated her kisses. His hands roamed eagerly, feeling the curve of her waist and hip, caressing her beautiful breasts.

"Béma how I have lusted for you the whole evening," he groaned, grabbing her hips and hoisting him atop him. He carried her to the bed, not breaking their kiss and laid her down beneath him. He tore at the front of her dress, freeing her bosom and suckled hungrily at a tantalisingly pink nipple while kneading her other breast. Ithílwyn struggled to get out of her undergarments and after succeeding in between moans of pleasure, she began untying the cords of Éomer's trousers. She smiled, licking her lips in anticipation as his manhood came free, stiff against his abdomen.

"Your eagerness will never cease to amaze me," he murmured and chuckled in a low voice that gave her shivers. His hands were at her hips and they were moving close to her thighs. He lifted one leg and began kissing the sensitive flesh near her core and she gasped, clutching to his shoulder.

"Later," she rasped, and gave him a pleading look. Éomer smirked in return and she decided that he was not the only one allowed to tease. She got up and began licking the tip of his manhood, delighting in the strain of his muscles. Then he watched as it disappeared into her warm mouth and he threw his head backward, grunting as the torture continued. He swore as Ithílwyn choked, knowing that he was not about to last if she continued.

"Ithíl, please," he begged, and she knelt in front of him, gripping his mane and kissing him, pulling him down with her onto the bed. With a groan he entered her, feeling so much pleasure that it became almost painful. He gritted his teeth and tried to think about something else to prevent him from finding release.

"Éomer?" she called out from under him as he steadied his thoughts. He grunted but did not move and then he felt her hips undulating beneath him as she let out little gasps of pleasure. Knowing he would not last, he lifted her under the knees with one arm and grabbed a pillow to put under her lower back, elevating the position of her hips. Then he kissed her, nibbling on her bottom lip as he began to thrust in and out of her to a punishing rhythm, immediately she began clenching her walls around him, her legs crossed behind his back. With the force of his thrusts he began pushing her to the wall and she had to support herself with her hands as he continued fucking her ferally. This was her weakness, and he was well aware of what she preferred, but most importantly, what would she succumb to in the quickest time.

But soon he felt his own discipline waning and he could feel his climax approaching. "Oh Ithíl," he groaned.

"Please," she begged and with a final cry he felt her body begin to tremble as the pleasure reached its zenith. He rested his forehead on hers and with the last reserve of his strength thrusted all the more aggressively and then he groaned as the peak of his pleasure course through his body, leaving him utterly spent. He slumped onto his wife, who was laughing.

"That was a tremendous performance," she whispered breathlessly, panting after the physical exertion.

"I am glad that I married someone who finds their pleasure so quickly, it took much effort to last long enough for you, but I am ashamed to say that it was over very quickly."

"I savoured every single moment," she replied lasciviously, her finger drawing patterns on his chest. "And, I eagerly await the next time, when we can properly make love," Ithíl continued, rubbing her hand along his upper thighs.

"Well, if this is how I am made lifeless, then I cannot complain," he muttered and kissed her on the lips, smiling with unfettered happiness.

Despite the joyous changes in the Mark, not all was well as is wont with life. As happy as Ithílwyn was with her marriage, she knew that though Éomer assured her that they were complete so long as they had each other, it was far from the blissful endings she had read about in her silly romantic stories. They needed children, and it continued to be a thorn on her side. She felt insecure as the state of her childlessness grew more apparent in the court and that increased the hate she bore towards her own self. And Éomer grew impatient at times, for he loved her and only saw perfection in her, but she could not view herself from his perspective, no matter how much he tried. And she soon realised that it had wormed itself between them, and she grew terrified and all the more convinced that Éomer's love for her would soon disintegrate entirely.

They were to travel to Helm's Deep in the middle of spring as Erkenbrand's daughter was to pledge her troth and he had requested their presence to grace the event. Ithílwyn was eager to see Helm's Deep, as she had heard of the work that was being done to restore the Hornburg to its former stature. She was also eager to meet Gimli son of Glojn, who was rumoured to be in attendance with other dwarven kin. According to Éomer, they had pledged their craftsmanship in return for the privilege of revealing the hidden beauty of Glaemscrafu. Though it may seem an unfair advantage, the dwarves insisted that they took great pleasure from their craft and Gimli had been so persuasive about the beauty yet unveiled within the unpolished caves that they could not resist. After all, they were tired from hewing necks, and would much rather pick up their chisels and hammers and bring forth craft, not death.

She brewed tea for him, as was her custom every night, unless he should be away, and laid it out on the table by his side of the bed, noting that it had been the third night that she had not seen him since their last argument. On these sordid nights, she lay awake feigning sleep while he came in and slept, knowing that he woke long before she did to avoid confronting her. Usually this would last for a night, but now that three nights had passed, Ithílwyn was annoyed at his treatment of her and decided to spend the night in the library, where she withdrew to seek solace.

Shutting the door behind her, she drew near the great window and pulled the curtains aside, revealing the brilliant light of the moon and the stars filtering in. Almost like a ritual, she lay on the fur in front of the window, bathed in the silver light and felt her mother's presence beside her.

"There, I see it," she whispered, pretending she was a girl of ten years and laying by her mother's side, "the Valacirca, and the Menemelcar, oh, there lies the Telumendil. How beautiful they are." She turned beside her and stroked the vacant space on the furs. The sound of flickering flames soon put her mind at ease and she began humming a song her mother once taught her about Elbereth, the queen of the stars.

That was how Éomer found her a while after, searching frantically when he saw that his bed was empty, worried that his wife had gone missing. He watched her still silhouette silently, absorbing her beauty, so radiant in the starlight. The nightdress she wore exposed her fair arms and shoulders and they shone luminescent in the pale light. He gulped nervously, seeing his wife transform into an ethereal deity before his eyes and wondered if this was a dream.

Upon hearing a noise, Ithíl sat up, covered herself and looked around, her face falling at the sight of him. "Éomer?" she called, frowning at him, her arms crossed. Her posture only served to accentuate the fullness of her breast and in the thin nightgown, there was much he could see. His throat grew dry and he swallowed, shaking his head slightly to regain his focus.

"You were not in bed," he explained sternly and crossed his arms, struggling to find the right words. He had been beside himself in worry, thinking that she could be attacked like the last time, but he chose not to speak of it.

"Neither were you," she retorted. "I could not withstand another night of being ignored by my husband, so I decided to spend it as I wished."

He sighed and slumped his shoulders, running his fingers through his hair. "Ithíl, I do not want a confrontation tonight. Let us retire to bed, together," he pleaded.

She stood up, her back against the moonlit glow. "No, I think that avoiding this conflict will only serve to breed strife."

"I am weary, Ithílwyn."

"Perhaps if you slept longer in bed instead of leaving early to avoid seeing me in the morning, then you would have the energy to resolve the problems between us." He exhaled and scratched his head.

"You say you love me, but you do not," she accused, her voice cold and hollow and her eyes grew wet, her tears glistening like pearls in the moonlight. Her words struck him like an arrow to the heart. He did not know he could feel such pain.

"No, never. I love you, I love you so much," he said, approaching her for the first time in three days. "But these days it has grown unbearable to see you in such a state, your obsession with having a child is consuming you, and it shatters my heart to see you in such pain."

She tore away from his embrace. "You do not understand, you cannot possibly understand how much I want a baby, and how my worth has depreciated because I am childless."

"You are right, I cannot understand. I do not value you any lesser because you are yet to have children. I know we will have children, and our children will be blessed to have you as their mother. But I love you Ithíl, whether or not you have given me heirs, and it anguishes me to see that my love is not sufficient."

"If you were not king, it would be more than sufficient."

He rubbed his face and groaned in exasperation. "So, you mean to say that it has been a great error on your part to marry me? Do you wish to have married someone else and find their love sufficient whereas I have failed?" he questioned spitefully.

"Yes, I wish I were married to someone else, if only it ensured your marriage to a fertile woman who is perfectly at place in Meduseld as queen, as a noble woman, as someone who had the privilege of not knowing the insufferable torment of having your child bashed to death before he was fully formed. I am not a queen, but a broken and scarred woman and I should not have entertained the fantasy that I could be one," she replied. "Do you see that it has come to pass, what I have foretold in the past. Your love will grow to hate, because I am not like you, or your kin. You say that I am perfect, but all I see are flaws, and now they are obvious to you. Ithíl is not a queen, she is a mere woman, damaged and broken, but there is still life to be enjoyed after the War. I chose you, I surrendered my name and freedom in exchange for a love that is now quickly dissipating. Perhaps what you said is true, I do regret marrying you," she muttered and shook her head, dashing out the library, leaving Éomer exhausted and frustrated, utterly alone.

Days later, they began the journey to Helm's Deep, and Ithílwyn tried to think about things other than her husband, and how awkward it had grown between them. She regretted the spiteful things she had said, but they were all borne of truth, and she had felt some relief ever since she spoke them out.

Éomer was civil to her, but she knew that they were both hurting. Yet they cared for each other still, and she knew that he loved her but not at the same depth and intensity as before. How ironic it was that they would be attending a wedding and celebrating love when their own marriage was beginning to falter. Dark thoughts began to creep in her mind, and she in her loneliness and melancholy grew fearful of losing the man she loved, despairing at how quickly his claims to love her for the entirety of his existence had evaporated. Was this not what she wanted? She had wished for his indifference, that she may be left to her own desires and be free to do as she wished. Yet now she notices how stiff his body is, how civil he is, but not affectionate. She still slept in their bed at his insistence, but she soon grew weary of the pretense of wedded bliss to prevent suspicions among the court that deceived no one. Rumours were beginning to sprout of a rift between the king and the queen. The growing pain in her chest at the very sight of him only furthered the darkening of her thoughts, threatening to consume her identity.