A/N: Just a little bit Of Eomer angst that came to me at about 7:30 this morning. Hope it's not that bad!^^
Disclaimer: If you do not know by now that these characters do not belong to me I feel very, very sorry for you...
Also, the poem at the end and from which the title of the fic is taken appears in The Two Towers. Which, believe it or not did I not write. Wow...Go figure... Heh...
Anyway...
A Wind in the Meadow
A dark night had fallen upon the city of Edoras, creeping into every nook and cranny of every mountain, house, the rider's barracks and the Golden hall. It could almost be said that this darkness was akin to, or perhaps even less than the one currently illuminating my world. Or at least it could have been said, had I actually dared to voice my opinions on the subject.
But who would bother to say such things, given the presence of that vile slime known as Wormtongue to all but the King who had fallen to his spell? Grima's serpent tongue had brought about disaster in the past as that weapon was used to slowly turn Theoden from all of us...Who would I bother to speak when everything I said or did could be twisted or used against me somehow?
It would not do, I had decided, to speak what could easily be made into treason, though I felt keenly that things must be made right. Sitting around now, waiting for orders that surely came from the rat of an advisor, I felt myself began to wonder.
Was keeping my mouth shut at the expense of treason, really doing any more good? Or was I a coward to silently wait, to drop everything and be summoned here for whatever reason they had wished, which still was quite unknown to me? Which role was I supposed to take now? That of the diplomat? Or of the fighter? There were so many questions...I didn't know where to start...
iAnd so you get nowhere... impressive Eomer.../i I decided, shaking my head in disgust and returned to grooming Firefoot, grateful at least that there was one living being who seemed to feel that I could solve the problems of the world if needed. I couldn't of course, Hell; I couldn't even deal with my own problems. But all the same it was nice to know that someone, even a horse had such faith in me.
"I doubt you will find your answers out here Eomer." A voice broke into my thoughts.
"Indeed, I've been known to seek them here myself. Better than in drink I suppose, though neither does much to solve it. The answers aren't coming...and sometimes it feels as if they never will."
Wordlessly I nodded, turning to face the man who had spoken. It was of course Theodred, his expression serious, with just a hint of fire in his eyes, though it looked as if someone had recently done much to smother the flames before he had come here.
"Cousin when did you..."
"Not long ago." Theodred answered, with a vague wave of his hand. "Long enough to have spoken with my father and with that rat he refers to as an advisor." A bit more fire now as he mentioned Grima. "The things that the worm has done to him Eomer and thusly to our people, it leaves us open to all manner of attack."
"He wishes it to be so." I nodded again, "I too have seen what Theoden has been reduced to since he came. I would do much to fix it if I had the chance. Indeed I know what I would do, had I the chance to get him alone. Sometimes the best way to end a problem is to exterminate it."
There was a long silence as Theodred absorbed the words, then just sighed and looked at me.
"Eomer..." he said at last shaking his head, "Would that help us all much in the long run. While it IS True that Grima is the one responsible and I would see him dead as well, can you not imagine how much worse an assassination would make things?
I fear this solution of yours would only serve to get you into trouble. And, in a sense to verify all that the Worm has said of you in the past."
I paused, considering Theodred's words carefully. He was more than likely right of course and I knew it yet...
"You would have this continue longer than it needs to?"
"I won't have you throw your life away on him cousin." Theodred sighed, "My father already has, but for you Eomer... No, I would not see it done for anything." he looked away for a moment and when his eyes returned to meet mine, they carried an expression I could not quite understand. It seemed to me that his eyes held many things, a mixture perhaps of sorrow, and fury...and the vague uncertainties of the future.
"It may well come to you Eomer to lead the people." Theodred said at last, "Indeed, I highly suspect it will. At dawn I ride to the Fords of Isen. Somehow I imagine that this was all arranged by Grima as a means to my death, of slowly getting himself what he wants..."
"You believe that you are marked for death then. So why do you go?"
Theodred snorted, and gave me a look that plainly stated I should have known better than to ask that question.
"All right." I admitted, "You must. Some part of me can plainly justify it. Yet still ride to your death?"
"You know perfectly well that you would do the same. Indeed if I am lucky perhaps I can throw it off, avoid things for a bit, but cousin...it is coming. I feel it somehow, as if in the air around me or," he paused, glancing out a nearby window, "As the shadow rising around us. It will come to you to take up what I leave behind. Eomer, Do not ruin your chances by rapidly succumbing to wrath. Were it not for you, whom would the people turn to? "
"I...Theodred..."
"Trust me Eomer, hold your wrath. The day will come when you would regret doing otherwise. Now, it's getting late. I must go."
"Theodred..."
"I have complete faith in you Eomer." Theodred paused on his way out of the stable, "You know what to do and you will be fine in the end. That much at least I can be certain of."
And with that he was gone...
***
I sat now in the dungeons of the Golden Hall, waiting whatever my fate may be. The words of my last conversation with Theodred still played in my mind. He had warned me to stay my wrath, but I had not quite been able to manage it. His trust had been placed in me and I had failed him utterly.
As a result I was now here, trapped underground, not even given the opportunity to attend his funeral. Hope had died, when I had failed him. And now, the shadow grew, looming larger then ever. Of what was before, nothing now remained, and never would again.
i Where is the Horse and the rider?
Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on a mountain,
Like a wind in the Meadow,
These days have gone down in the West Behind the hills into shadow./i
The end.
A/N: By the way is anyone interested in joining a really fun rohirrim RPG? Click on my bio page for more details of the Riders of Rohan Role Playing Game. Please at least look? I need riders badly....