Arriving at Éomer's study, Faramir found out that the King did not have any callers to attend to before them, but he also looked like he was buried alive at his desk. When they entered, Éomer looked like he didn't know whether to be angry or pleased with the interruption.
"Éowyn, Faramir, welcome. Please, be seated... i will talk with you as soon as i am through with this," Éomer said, gesticulating toward the scroll he was reading. The further he read, the more grim his expression grew. At the point that Éomer's countenance grew utterly depressing, Éowyn asked him what the trouble was.
"Dunlandings," Éomer said shortly. "Trying to claim more land toward Isengard now Saruman is overthrown, they say. Apparently, those raggle-taggle characters want to establish a kingdom, of sorts. Doubtless they think they can take the land from us so that Aragorn doesn't claim it as part of Arnor." In frustration he crumpled the scroll and threw it out a nearby window.
Faramir watched in near alarm that the request was not even going to be answered with so much as the word "no."
Éomer went from grim and terse to agitated and harried. "I've had five missives today exactly like that! These places are hardly even inhabited, and they want more land? Do you even know how many people have suddenly come forth with a claim to some noble bloodline or other?" Casting about the untidy wreck that was his desk, Éomer said, "I had one letter here from some land i have never even heard of! They never did this to our uncle, did they?" he asked his sister, sounding desperate.
She only shook her head. She looked very concerned, and Éomer relented, leaving his paperwork aside. He sighed, letting his hand search out his throbbing temples to sooth them. "I have to beg your pardon, Lord Faramir. I am sure you do not see this manner of ridiculousness in Gondor."
"No indeed, King Éomer, not every day is in this manner. Most days are much worse." Faramir had to force himself not to laugh over his words. Éomer having this much trouble with less than the quantities of work he handled daily gave Faramir some comfort in the way of self-evaluation by comparison.
Éomer looked to be petrified at that the thought that it could conceivably get worse than what he was dealing with already.
At the doorway there was a voice. "I believe what you need, Éomer, is a good Steward like mine." Aragorn stood genuine but smiling.
"Quite right, Aragorn," the Rohan king said simply.
Faramir could not help the smile that stole across his features. The feeling of being appreciated was very heartening.
"May i steal him from your side, Lady Éowyn?" Aragorn asked, though the importunate look was directed more toward his son.
Faramir's brow furrowed, wondering for what his father needed him so. He looked to Éowyn, silently asking her if she would prefer he remain with her for support.
"Go on, Faramir," she said very quietly. "I will manage this. You are needed by your king, and in your place is my brother."
"You are very sure?" Faramir asked, rising, but feeling the need to make sure.
"I am, Faramir. I can fight my own battles. Meet me again in the morning?" she asked hopefully.
"As you wish, lady," Faramir said before exiting with his father who had been having a side conversation with his comrade regarding the inanity they suffered in their position.
"What is it that is so pressing, father? Your eyes betray your concern," Faramir said, once out of earshot of the brother and sister.
"It's your uncle, Faramir," Aragorn said solemnly.
For one moment Faramir's heart stopped, thinking he had suddenly lost another of his dwindling family.
"I am going to be needing you to arbitrate this meeting," Aragorn said. "He will not enjoy what i have to tell him."
Faramir breathed a sigh of relief.
---
Éowyn was secretly glad that Aragorn had come to call for Faramir. Though she dearly appreciated his presence, she knew that her purpose with her brother needed to remain between siblings alone this time. She thought it was also probably better that Faramir not see the side of Éomer that could be unleashed when he was truly furious. She still had not clearly made up her mind whether she would yet tell her brother that she was with child. It would be best, she thought, to wait to gage his reactions.
Éomer had begun reading another missive while contemplating Aragorn's advice at the back of his mind. Maybe he did need a Steward after all. He had entirely forgotten that his sister was still in the room until she rose and went to the window.
"Éowyn, i am sorry, what did you and Lord Faramir wish to see me about?" Éomer asked, thoughtlessly letting the letter in his hand drop to the floor.
"It was not Lord Faramir who wished to see you, brother. He was only here because i wished to have his compassion. Now i seek yours," Éowyn said, her voice growing softer and shakier. A tremble shot through her at the thought of retelling and reliving her nightmare again.
Éomer stood and caught her shoulders when he saw her shudder, he was confused before by her words, now he was worried by them. "What is it that troubles you, strong sister of mine?"
"Éomer, sit down, please." She beckoned her brother to be near her. "This will be as horrid for you to hear as for me to tell."
Éomer stared at his little sister in utter anxiety. "Tell me, Éowyn, what could be so terrible as to make you tremble, you who have slain the Lord of the Nazgûl?"
"It is Captain Heruláth...." Éowyn's voice nearly faltered as she spoke the name.
"Heruláth?" Éomer questioned. "He is a good captain. His men do not exactly love him, but they do respect him and they have become the strongest éored in the Eorlingas in these weeks since...."
Éomer trailed off as Éowyn's tears broke and she shook fiercely. "Éowyn, why do you fear Heruláth?" her brother asked, voice steeped in suspicion, trying to hold back from flying into fury. Sudden realizations were crashing down upon the king. The way Heruláth gazed at his sister, how he always stood near Éowyn when she was about, these things Éomer has dismissed as the battle-hardened Captain's first flush of love. He knew it would only be ill-fated, since Éowyn was so love-struck with Gondor's Steward, so he thought little of it at the time. Suddenly his sister's strange behavior since their return to Edoras made more sense. Still he waited for her response, now holding her as she shuddered and sobbed in his arms.
Éowyn found she had not the same strength she had when she spoke of this to Faramir. Éomer, through no fault of his own, simply did not have the same calming influence. She found herself unable to go into details with her brother, but forced herself to get the words out. She drew a painful breath and held Éomer tighter. "He... he took me, Éomer," she cried, only barely above a tear-laden whisper.
For a moment Éomer sat still and silent as his wrath reached higher than ever before. He loosed his hold of Éowyn and rose, his eyes narrowed as they would in battle, it was now Éomer who quaked with unleashed ire. Drawing his sword he rushed from the room and out of the palace. In his haste he nearly knocked over three guards, a maid, and Gandalf.
The king had no trouble knowing exactly where to find Heruláth. The sun was setting and the men who were in practice all day were just returning to the weapons store. Éomer saw his target emerge just as he arrived and when the handsome young Captain bowed to his King, Éomer thrust his forearm to the man's head, knocking him to the ground. "Stand up and fight me, you unspeakable bastard!" Éomer commanded enraged.
"My liege!" Heruláth cried. "What is this angry sport you seek to engage me in? I dare not raise my hand against you in treason."
"Treason!" Éomer shouted, eyes flashing wildly. "You have done treason and more! Get you your weapon and fight me, coward."
"It is not more i have done," Heruláth said, drawing his sword with a grim smile, "but more i have undone, and nothing you can undo."
"You have undone yourself. I will not suffer your manner of evil. Die!" Éomer cried driving his sword toward Heruláth, who parried expertly.
---
By this time a small crowd had gathered in astonishment to see their King at blades with their captain. Many thought Éomer had simply grown tired of the duties of the kingdom and decided to get back to bladework. Some who had fought beside Éomer percieved that this was no exercise, that he was genuinely furious enough to fight the captain, but they had no idea what could have caused his anger.
Watching from a window above where Aragorn, Faramir, Imrahil, and Gandalf who had just gathered for their meeting regarding boundaries and conscripts. Imrahil stared in disbelief as the two squared off in a very even match. "Has he gone mad? That man is his best captain!"
"Indeed," said Aragorn steadily. "He is also a treacherous worm, worse than Grima was."
Faramir and Gandalf wisely looked on in silence.
From the window in her brother's study, Éowyn refused to look out, but she listened alone, awaiting the death cry that would give her release.
---
I've fallen to paraphrasing Shakespeare again. Anyone catch it in this chapter? Tell me the title of the play and who said it and i'll... write you a fic?
