Note: + and italics denote a memory.
A/N: I'm sorry it seems confusing, but the timeframe of the flashbacks (when Éomer is in Minas Tirith) will hopefully become clearer as the story goes along. I'm will be using details from the book as well as the movies (I won't be using the particular bit about Éomer being banished thats in the movies--not exactly anyway...you'll see ;P), though it is safe to say that I will follow the movie closer than the book. The time Éomer is in Gondor moviewise would be the end of FOTR/beginning of TTT (before Théodred is killed). I will try to add details that will make it obvious. Sorry for the confusion!
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Chapter Two ~ The Muster of the Rohirrim
Éomer's sword lay perfectly polished at his feet. He leaned down and took it into his hands with the utmost care. As silly as it sounded, this weapon had been like the brother he never had. 'Gúthwinë' he called it, as it truly had become his 'battle-friend.'
The filth of Saruman had been defeated at Helm's Deep and at Isengard. Thanks to the bravery of the people of Rohan, along with the awakening of Fangorn Forest, the Rohirrim were able to journey back home. For Éomer and his family, that was Edoras, home of the Golden Hall of Meduseld.
It was true, there had been many victories in Rohan of late--the healing of King Théoden, the banishment of Gríma Wormtongue, and the triumph at the Hornburg. All seemed to coincide with the mysterious arrival of Aragorn and his companions.
"Wingfoot," Éomer mused alound, a half-smile on his face. Though he had been wary of the travellers at first, he had more than once patted himself on the back for his decision to aid them in their journey. But that was where the self-appraisal stopped. Éomer looked down at the stable floor grimly. 'Théodred died because of my selfishness,' he told himself. One more man would not have made much of a difference, obviously, but if he had just been there, even if he had died as well... Everyone had their moments, he knew, but his moment had lasted nearly a month and a half. To leave when Rohan was weakening by the day was inexcusable. And to Gondor of all places.
A gentle breeze wafted through the stable, touselling Éomer's golden hair. He couldn't help the warm feeling that came over him. Looking around to make sure he was alone, he let the smile come to his face. He felt a mixture of guilt, embarassment, and almost giddiness--plus everything in between.
His uncle Théoden was wrestling with his feelings for the southern land of Gondor and for awhile Éomer felt similarly. After all, they had left Rohan to fight the tremendous forces of Saruman alone. But much had changed for the Third Marshal of the Mark over the past several weeks. He had learned that a kingdom was only as great as it's leader. With this fact, the future looked bright for Rohan. For Gondor, the future was shadowed and the present was in turmoil. Though they were the last free kingdom of men, the rule of Gondor was weak. Denethor was a coward, Éomer had found out quickly. His fists clenched at the mere thought of the steward. A wiser, stronger, and much more capable leader could be found right under Lord Denethor's nose.
Éomer held in a heavy sigh that wanted to escape from him. He chided himself for such emotions--he should know better. Such strong feelings could not be real after so short a time. Could they? After all, he barely knew her. But somehow he felt he had never been closer to anyone...
+Éomer wandered the fifth level of Minas Tirith three days after he'd arrived in the great city.
"Lord Éomer," called a woman's voice behind him. He turned to see Míriel headed toward him. Her dark hair was pulled back as always and she held up the billowing black and silver folds of her gown as she caught up with him.
"My lady," he greeted with a bright smile. Éomer couldn't help but notice how her eyes shone like two blue orbs in the morning sunlight.
"I hadn't seen you since you arrived. I wasn't sure if you were still in the city or had ridden off in the night," Míriel said, a hint of teasing in her voice.
Éomer looked away in mock-bashfulness. "If I'm being honest with my lady, I hadn't left my chambers in those three days. The comforts of the white city are quite a bit more luxurious than I am used to."
"I'm glad you are pleased," Míriel said, noticing the wistfulness in his eyes. "You miss Rohan?" she ventured.
He simply nodded hoping she took the hint as he didn't want to talk about it. Though she had to have been quite curious about Rohan and more importantly, why this Rider was so far from home, with any luck she would save the questioning for later.
"So what is it that made you venture out this morning, my lord?"
Éomer seemed to snap out of a daze at the sound of her voice. "Actually I was looking for the stables. The guard at the gate said he would take care of Firefoot for me and I am anxious to see that he is being tended to."
"The stables are on the first level. I'm sure Beregond took very good care of your horse but I can understand you desire to check on him." Míriel paused. "Would you like me to accompany you?"
He turned to look at her. "I would," he replied simply and sincerely.
They made their way down to the base level of Minas Tirith, chatting lightly, with Míriel pointing out various things. Éomer couldn't help but notice the looks he was getting. Some would smirk, others would smile graciously, and others yet would glance quickly and turn away equally as fast.
"Its just curiousity, my lord," Míriel said in a low voice. "Ignore them."
"I beg your pardon?"
Míriel smiled gently. "Forgive me, Lord Éomer, but you had a quite bewildered look on your face and I thought that some of the looks you were getting might have something to do with it."
Éomer looked away momentarily. "It is I who should be apologizing, Lady Míriel. I shouldn't be wearing my emotions all over my face as I was--in truth I haven't been much myself lately." He fell silent then, inwardly marvelling at how easily her name flowed off his tongue. He pushed the thoughts away quickly.
"Here we are," Míriel said, breaking the silence, as they approached the stables. "Guests' horses are usually boarded near the front."
Éomer cringed inside at the thought of dear Firefoot being "boarded." He knew Míriel meant no harm--she could not understand how important horses were to the people of Rohan.
"Which one is yours?" Míriel asked, surveying the many horses in the stable.
Firefoot himself answered, neighing with delight as his master approached. Éomer smiled at the sight of his faithful companion. "Miss me, did you?" he asked the horse and Firefoot again neighed in reply.
Out of the corner of his eye, Éomer saw Míriel smile at the exchange. Seeing him with his horse was almost like an insight into the ways of Rohan and particularly this mysterious Rider. If they had no one else, they had their loyal horses at their side. These thoughts no doubt brought up the important issue that had been on Míriel's mind since she'd seen Éomer that morning.
"I don't mean to pry my lord, but I must ask--" she paused. "What is a Rider of Rohan doing here in the city of Gondor so far from home?"
Éomer tensed at the inquiry. He knew it was coming. Lady Míriel wouldn't be guarding her city properly if she didn't ask. "I am on an errand for King Théoden," he began slowly. "Not here specifically--" he faltered. "I'm on my way back now and I thought I'd visit the white city."
Deception was never his strong suit. Éomer always tended to be bluntly honest. Usually that was an admirable quality but he found himself wishing he could come up with a good story right about then.
It was written all over Míriel's face that she knew the story was just that: a story. But she didn't press.
And for that Éomer was truly thankful. The last thing he wanted to do right then was face the truth.+
A familiar voice called outside the stables. Éomer stepped outside and saw Aragorn running up the steps of the Golden Hall. He quickly followed to see what all the commotion was about.
"The beacons of Minas Tirith!" cried Aragorn. "The beacon of Halifirien is lit!"
Éomer ran into the Golden Hall just as the words were leaving Aragorn's lips. He barely noticed his sister Éowyn was at his side. Aragorn's words hit him coldly in the chest. 'The beacons of Minas Tirith...'
"Gondor calls for aid!" Aragorn said to Théoden.
All eyes then turned to the King of the Mark. He stood stoic for a moment or so as if deep in thought. Éomer could not believe his hesitation. Gondor was in dire need of their help--why else would the proud Lord Denethor even think about lighting the beacons? "Uncle," he said sharply, when Théoden remained silent. All eyes turned toward Éomer, the most curious ones belonging to his sister.
Théoden looked briefly at him, then back at Aragorn and replied firmly, "And Rohan will answer!"
Éomer sighed deeply within himself but tried not to show it outwardly. No one seemed to notice--no one, that is except Éowyn, whose eyes were still piercing him with curiousity.
"Muster the Rohirrim!" Théoden said to Éomer. "At dawn tomorrow, we ride for Gondor...and war." Éomer nodded to his uncle in response moving to comply. Éowyn's eyes still bore into his back as he left to do his duties.
The Rohirrim was ready by the next morning as the king had ordered. The night was long and Éomer could not let his mind rest. He had been through many battles in defense of Rohan. But now, it was not just Rohan that was at stake, it was all of Middle-Earth. This would be the greatest battle Middle-Earth had seen in an age or more. It stayed on Éomer's mind from the moment his uncle gave the order, to the rising of the sun the next day.
"Riders of Rohan!" Éomer called to the warriors that surrounded him. "Oaths you have taken, now fulfill them all! To life and liberty!" His heart pounded as he spoke the inspirational words to the men of his country. His mind pounded with thoughts of Minas Tirith and how he needed to protect it.
He needed to protect her--no matter what it took.
As it turned out, it would take nearly everything he had.
Please review, I'm begging! Thanks!
