A/n: This took forever to get up here - I profusely apologize and can only say that I hope I can make this go up faster in the future. I hope you like this chapter, I tried to make it NICE and LONG. ;) Note to all my faithful reviewers: I LOVE YOU ALL! Thank you with every fibre of my being for sticking with me! :D Keep the reviews coming! And enjoy...
Chapter 7
"Are you awake yet, sir?"
Shaomer felt numb, partially with pain, but mostly just ...numb. He was laying down on something cool and comfortable, the air around him was ever so slightly cold and smelled sweet yet a little dusty. His eyes were shut and he didn't quite feel like opening them just yet.
There was the sound of water splashing quietly in a bowl or basin, then the squelching of a cloth being rung out. A cold, wet cloth was dabbed lightly on his forehead, startling him a bit but he didn't jump or twitch. The cloth felt extremely pleasant on his hot forehead.
He was suddenly aware that he had bandages over his words and was wearing fresh clothing. Whoever was taking care of him really was taking care of him.
Shaomer took a deep breath and slowly managed to open his eyes. His vision was still blurred, but he could tell who the woman before him was. He only knew one with brilliant golden hair and lovely pale skin...
Shaomer lifted his hand to touch her arm. "Ayah..." he whispered and grinned.
Within seconds, the woman confusedly replied, "S-sorry?" and Shaomer's eyes focussed significantly more. The clearer his vision became, the clearer it was that the woman before him was not Ayah. Indeed she had long golden hair and fair skin, but she was no elf. He pulled his hand away quickly, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.
"Oh..."
"Someone you know?" the woman said, trying to brush off the awkward moment.
"Yes." Shaomer said quietly, allowing the woman to continue dabbing his head. "An Elven woman. I have great feelings for her."
The woman nodded and said, "Do I resemble her?"
"You both have beautiful long golden hair." Shaomer said and smiled inwardly as the sweet image of Ayah's face and slim figure danced in his mind.
"Such a compliment." the woman smiled warmly.
They were quiet for a moment. A jolt of pain moved through him, and he tried his best to ignore it.
"Where, exactly, am I?" Shaomer asked, glancing as best he could around the room. From what he could guess, he was quite sure he was in some sort of castle. The room was lit by several large candles, spread out about the scantily furnished room.
"You are in Rohan, my good man." the woman answered. "My brother Eomer, son of Eomund, and his men came across you, recognized the crest upon your pack to be that of the Journiers and brought you under my care. I am Eowyn. This place - " she gestured briefly to the room around her before she continued " - is that of the castle belonging to my uncle, King Theoden."
Eowyn's face clouded.
"Is something wrong, Milady?" Shaomer got the feeling she didn't want to discuss it, but she trusted him enough already to discuss the cause of her depression.
"I don't know if I should be telling you this..." she stopped and looked behind her as if she were worried someone were watching. Sure enough, the door was closed. She lowered her voice anyways. "My uncle's mind is - has been - poisoned by his advisor, Grima Wormtongue. I have been taking care of him for the past 4 - well, 5, really - years." She sighed heavily. "He seems to grow worse everyday. He is being turned against everything he once stood for, and defended. Including his own kin." she sighed heavily. "I know not how to remedy the situation, and it causes me great strife."
"I see." Shaomer could think of nothing else to say.
Eowyn quickly changed the subject as if she felt she had already said too much. "And what of you, sir? Where are you from? And what is your name?"
"Well, Milady, I am Shaomer, son of Chayodin, and I hail from a small region just north of Bree."
"Oh!"
"You know it?"
"I've heard of it, yes."
"Anyways, as you know, I am a Journier who was separated from my companions."
"And what of your wound? If you don't mind me asking, sir, how did you come by it?"
Shaomer was about to answer, but he had to suck in his breath momentarily as pain washed over him. Eowyn waited patiently as he regained himself, and then answered her question.
"During our travels, we unexpectedly came across ravenous wood-dwelling orcs who engaged us in battle. I was shot once in the chest, and managed to jump onto another horse. In the process, I got shot in the leg, and then the horse I rode somehow made it to wear your brother found me." he paused briefly. "To be honest, Milady, I am quite pleasantly surprised that I am alive."
Another wave of pain went over him, and he waited for it to subside before he exhaled and smiled weakly.
Eowyn looked at him with compassion and sympathy. "I can see your wound pains you deeply, Lord Shaomer, but we have no more Elven medication to ease the pain. I used what little supplies I had to begin with on my cousin Theodred." Tears momentarily flashed in her eyes but she blinked them away. "Sadly, he did not make it." she swallowed and cleared her throat. "I did as best as I could with what was left."
Shaomer greatly appreciated her care, however limited her medications were, and told her so.
She smiled in return, but Shaomer noticed a constant sadness, veiling any happiness like an unpleasant fog. Eowyn slowly stood and sighed. "Rest, Lord Shaomer." she said. "I shall be back soon."
In the coming weeks, Shaomer healed better than he or Eowyn expected, given the poor supplies Eowyn had to use to dress his wounds. He met Eomer and his loyal friends and followers. He had to endure meeting - or running into rather - Grima Wormtongue. Shaomer took an immediate dislike to ugly, pale man. He met King Theoden, who indeed seemed very ill and decrepit. He understood why Eowyn was so sad when ever she thought about her poor uncle.
Rohan became his second home, and he felt oddly as though he had lived there all his life. Eomer and Eowyn became the siblings he never had, and they kept each other strong throughout their daily struggles. He often took long walks through Rohan, enjoying the settlements, homes, and quiet locals. He greatly enjoyed the simplicity of their way of living. He also took happiness in going on rides and orc raids with Eomer and his men. It was a break from the monotony. He found out that it was no secret that Eowyn desperately wanted to join them on their raids, but because she was a woman, she was forced to stay behind.
Shaomer learned to watch his words when not in private, and he learned that the best place to have a word in private, was far away from the castle where Wormtongue's prying eyes and ears seemed to be around every corner, lingering in the shadows.
All the while, images of Ayah swam in his mind. With each passing day, he found his heart aching to see her. A month or so later, he knew it was time for him to leave.
Shaomer went about gathering his things, feeling greatly saddened. He really didn't want to leave, but he knew he needed to try and re-group with the other Journiers. He was surely going to miss Rohan, as well as its people. The only thought he entertained in that regard, was that he could most definitely return soon.
His wounds were now nearly completely healed, and he knew that no matter how much he disliked it or avoided thinking about it, it really was time for him to go.
Eowyn leaned in his doorway. "Leaving?"
Shaomer turned around and slowly nodded.
Eowyn nodded also and sighed. She walked towards him, the light-coloured dress she wore swaying as she walked. "I knew this day would come soon, I just didn't realize how soon." Tears filled her eyes and she hugged him.
Shaomer hugged her tightly back, and a lump rose in his throat. "You're like a sister to me, Eowyn. The sister I never had." He had to stop there, for he feared if he said anything further his voice would break.
'You can come back. Remember that.' he sternly reminded himself, and slowly pulled out of the hug.
No sooner had Shaomer cleared his throat to say more, when Eomer rushed up to the doorway panting, knocked briefly and then said, "Thank goodness you're still here."
"What is it?" Shaomer asked concernedly.
"Orcs." Eomer sounded worried and breathless. "They've entered the East Wall."
Shaomer pulled completely away from Eowyn. "What? The East Wall?"
Eomer nodded and gulped some air. "I fear a terrible alliance between..." his sentence trailed off.
Shaomer's forehead creased and his mouth opened slightly. "Isengard?" he said, his voice barely a whsiper.
"And... " Eomer lowered his voice to match Shaomer's volume. "Mordor." he added.
A horrible shiver went up and down Shaomer's spine at the mere mention of the dark land. "What do you propose?" he asked quietly.
Eomer looked down either side of the hallway, stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He spoke in a low voice. "I want to go to battle with them - wipe them away, destroy their plot. But, it is against the King's wishes. It is with a heavy heart indeed that I decide ti disobey him. We must ride."
Eowyn did not protest as much as Shaomer thought she would. Instead she put her hand on Eomer's arm. "But you'll be banished, or worse, arrested!"
"I know the consequences." he said sullenly. "But I also know the consequences of not stopping those creatures when I have the chance would be great, and far more terrible."
Eowyn paled slightly, but nodded, taking in the full extent of the situation. "Then go, with a swift and brave heart. Let your feet be quick and sword be true." she hugged Eomer. "Return soon, and in one piece." she smiled.
Eomer turned to Shaomer. "I hate to ask, as I know this could be a dangerous undertaking, and I know you are yearning to return to your companions. But, I would be very honoured if you would accompany my men and I."
Shaomer didn't hesitate. "Of course, I shall ride with you. After our duty is done, I shall return to the other Journiers, but only after."
Eomer patted Shaomer on the shoulder. "Very well. I shall prepare a horse for you. Meet me at the stable." he exited the room.
Shaomer shouldered his pack, said a second good-bye to Eowyn, and followed Eomer out to the stable.
"I shall spare you the bloody deatils." Shaomer said, and squeezed Ayah's hand slightly. "But I must tell you what happened next. 2 days later, Eomer's company and myself overtook the pack of Uruk-Hai just on the border of Fanghorn Forest. The final victory occurred at sunrise on the third day since our departure from Rohan. All the creatures were killed, unless one or two somehow managed to escape into the forest."
Shaomer paused and swallowed. "Thankfully, only a few men were lost in the hard-fought battle." he paused again, but continued shortly. "On the fourth day, as the men and I were on our way back to Rohan, we came across a rather peculiar trio..."
They had just crested on of the many hills on their journey and at the bottom were three figures. Once they had neared the figures, Shaomer saw a tall, rugged looking man, a clean, fair elf, and a growling, bearded dwarf.
"Riders of Rohan!" the man yelled. "What news from the mark?"
Shaomer and the others had stopped short, faced the man, the elf and the dwarf and drawn their spears. The immediate reaction seemed to be the assumption that the three beings were evil spies. Shaomer, for one found it highly unlikely that such a trio would be spies, but he said nothing.
Eomer spoke first, his voice full of suspicion. "What business does an elf, a man, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"
The rider mounted beside Shaomer tensed and shifted in his saddle. He apparently wasn't one to like confrontations.
"Your real name, horse master," said the dwarf. "And I shall give you mine."
Shaomer glanced at Eomer, who said, "I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."
Shaomer felt Eomer had gone a little far with his comment, but still he said nothing. The elf also seemed to feel this comment had gone too far, because quick as lightning, as fast as Shaomer's thought, the elf had his bow drawn and pointed at Eomer.
"You would die before your stroke fell!" the elf threatened, his voice husky and serious.
The riders around Shaomer moved in closer, their spear points dangerously close to the trio. The man put his arm on that of the elf's and gently forced him to lower his weapon. The dwarf exhaled loudly.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, this is Gimli, son of Gloin," - he gestured to the dwarf - "and Legolas of the woodland region." - he gestured to the elf - "We are friends of Rohan, and of Theoden, your King."
Shaomer felt like they were genuine and sincere, even though the dwarf had a sharp tongue. He looked again to Eomer to see his reaction.
"Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." he took off his helmet and held it at hi side. "Not even his own kin."
Immediately, as though a silent command had been given, all the riders raised their spears. Shaomer felt a prick of sadness hit his heart for Eomer. He knew how much his Eomer's uncle's illness pained him.
Eomer sighed slightly. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the King and claimed lordship over his lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan, and for that we are banished."
Shaomer nodded, and felt another pang of sadness. When Eomer arrived back at his home, he was most surely to be arrested.
"The white wizard is cunning." Eomer continued. "He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked, and everywhere his spies slip past out nets."
"We are no spies." the man, Aragorn, said quickly yet softly and sincerely. "We track a party of Uruk-Hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive."
"The Uruks are destroyed," Eomer said. "We slaughtered them during the night."
There were several nods of assent and confirmation among the riders.
"But there were two hobbits. Did you see two hobbits with them?" the dwarf asked and he seemed on the verge of panic.
Shaomer thought for a moment. He knew what hobbits were - plump, merry little creatures. Living near Bree had shown him a fair share of hobbits in his time there. He was quite sure he had seen no hobbits during the battle. Of course, it was during a battle. It was rather difficult to recall any details whatsoever.
"They would be small," said Aragorn almost pleadingly, holding his hand at approximate hobbit height. "Only children to your eyes."
Eomer shook his head. "We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them."
"Dead?" Gimli said, and there was no mistaking the quaver in his gruff voice.
Eomer nodded slowly and sadly. "I'm sorry."
Legolas, the elf, gently placed his hand on Gimli's shoulder. Shaomer could almost feel the sense of loss and grief settle over them.
Eomer suddenly whistled. "Hasufel, Arod." Two riderless horses came forward from the gathered riders. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Farewell."
Aragorn gratefully took the reins of the two horses, one sorrel, the other white. Shaomer immediately forced his thoughts away from the previous owners of the two horses.
"Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It is forsaken in these lands." Eomer turned his horse slightly. "We ride north!" he shouted with booming authority to the riders. He gave his horse a kick, sending it into a hard gallop. Eomer lead the way, and the others followed.
Shaomer took one more look back at the trio, before kicking his horse into action and joining the other riders on their way back to Rohan.
A/n: What do you think? :)
By the way, the whole Aragorn part was taken directly from LOTR TTT. I do not own that, nor do I claim to. I realize some of the timeline doesn't directly match up, but since this is an alternate universe, I believe that's allowed. ;)
To anonymous reviewer RLS if you ever drop me a line again, or have continued to read this story: Thank you for taking the time to write such a long review! Thank you for the tips on where to find REAL Elvish names! Thank you for taking the time to leave such detailed feedback - I will absolutely put it into practice in future fics! :)
