KNOW THY PLACE – Part 4

It was late before the three dead wargs had been disposed of; the best part of the meat now either freezing in the family's storage room for later use or in the process of being marinated in herbs for next day's Yule feast. The remains had been burnt in some distance from the hut, leaving nothing but a pile of blackened bones which were fast covered by the snow. With the exception of Éomer, Éothain and Elfhelm, who were either injured or ill, all men had made themselves useful by either helping to let the orc-wolves disappear or repairing the damage to the hut and barn.

Now that night had fallen once again, Éomer could not help feeling tension return as the darkness brought back the memories of the recent events. Would the diminished pack try it again, or had the loss of three of its members discouraged and convinced them to seek easier prey elsewhere? Thoughtfully, he chewed on the piece of bread he had kept from the evening meal, and his gaze once again went through the window to the hut. A slow, wistful smile spread over his face. How much he longed to be there now, with her. Yet he had his duty to fulfil, and after a whole day of feeling more or less useless, he was grateful for the opportunity to add his part to the protection of Freya's family.

Settling back against the beam, Éomer suddenly heard a voice call out for him from below, muted as to not wake up the nearby sleeping men, but sounding urgent nonetheless. Furrowing his brow, he looked down from his elevated position, and saw to his surprise Tolgor climbing up the ladder.

"What is the matter, Tolgor?"

"Elfhelm wants to have a word with you. He told me to take your position in the meantime."

The healer's words cut through Éomer's bliss like a knife. Had he done something wrong? But he had been told to take Freya and her siblings away from the site of the slaughter!

"What does he want?"

"I do not know, Éomer, you will have to ask him yourself. Now go, he is waiting for you."

Putting the half-eaten piece of bread down, Éomer waited until his brother-in-arms had cleared the ladder and then descended with a growing feeling of wariness, angered by his bad conscience when he did not even know what he was feeling guilty of. A moment later, he saw Elfhelm sitting in the corner underneath his own position, his back propped against the wall and his injured foot resting on a thickly folded blanket. It was indeed broken, Tolgor had confirmed after his examination in the morning, and his verdict had darkened Elfhelm's mood. The captain hated being forced to inactivity, and had instead resorted to chasing his kinsmen around in a gruff way Éomer had so far not experienced from his commander. With a growing feeling of anxiety in his stomach, Éomer stepped closer.

"You were asking for me, Captain?"

"Éomer! Aye, I was. Come over here, son, I need to speak with you. Sit down."

The older man's expression was inscrutable, and while Éomer had the notion that Elfhelm was at least not angry with him, he also was not likely to have called him from his post for nothing. Awkwardly, he lowered himself to the ground, hardly daring to look his captain in the eye as the warrior began to speak.

"What is the matter, young rider? Why do you stare at the ground and evade my gaze, as if you were expecting to be berated for something?"

His head still bowed, Éomer looked up from underneath his eyebrows.

"Is that not why you called me, my lord?"

"Then what failure would it be that I would accuse you of?"

"I do not know. But—"

"There is no "but", Éomer. If you cannot name it, I can't as well…except maybe for the foolish thing you did yesterday."

His heart missed a beat. There. Now he would hear about it. Yet why did the captain not speak more clearly?

"Foolish, my lord?"

"Stepping away from us to divert the warg's attention. Battling that beast even though you are yet barely experienced in fighting. It was a bold move, but it could have gone wrong. Those creatures are fell beyond belief. For a moment, I feared for you."

Éomer frowned.

"But it would have killed you!"

"It would not have attacked us if all three of us would have stood together. They are vicious, but they also prefer easy prey. But of course you couldn't have known. This is something only experience teaches you." Upon seeing his apprentice's dropping face, Elfhelm snorted in amusement and patted Éomer's hand. "Nay, young rider, do not take my words to heart. What you did was very brave, but please wait with a repeat until you are ready for it. Your father would be furious with me if something happened to you. And we both know that the great Marshal Éomund of Aldburg would find a way of letting me feel his wrath even from the halls of your ancestors. You would not want that, would you, son?"

"Of course not, captain. I will try to be better, even if what happened, happened out of an impulse. I did not think about it." Relief was too great for words as Éomer readied himself to return to his post. "Was this what you wanted to speak with me about?"

"I wanted to thank you, aye, but it is not the reason for your being here. We must speak about the girl." Without a warning, Elfhelm's expression darkened, and both the sight of it and the captain's words knocked the breath from Éomer's lungs. So he had been right to be wary. A chill raced down his spine.

"Aye?"

Grey eyes held him captive, and in the flickering light of the candle, Elfhelm's face had never looked more serious.

"Let her be, Éomer. It cannot work."

All of a sudden, there didn't seem to be enough air in the barn. He felt like suffocating.

"But… why? And how—"

"All noticed it, Éomer. Do you think we are blind? Alas, I wish I had known how serious this is for you; and I would not have sent you out with her this afternoon. I was relieved to have her and the children out of the way. But now that it can no longer be disregarded… Éomer, that girl belongs to the ordinary folk. She is a farmer's daughter. You are a rider of Rohan. It cannot work."

"Why not? You have a family yourself! My father had a family, and he was a marshal of the Mark! Why should I be doomed to stay alone?"

"I did not mean that you should stay alone. As you know, most of the men have families. Alas, they do not see them often, and it tears them apart every time they have to leave, but it works because they are perfectly matched. You and Freya, however, are not a match."

"How would you know?" Éomer rebuked, anger clouding his expression. "You know nothing about her, and little about me!"

"I know more about you than you think, Éomer. I probably know you even better than you know yourself." Elfhelm inhaled deeply, knowing how sensitive the issue he was discussing with the young warrior was. "And I know enough about Freya to see that the two of you cannot stay together. She is a farm girl, Éomer, and I mean that in an appreciative sense. She works hard to ensure that our people have enough to eat, and there is no task that is more important. Her family has worked on this land for generations, and it is a great part of who she is. She would never leave it, Éomer, and I know you well enough to say that you would never be content with living the life of a farmer."

"Perhaps I would!"

"No, you wouldn't. You have strived for becoming a Rohirrim all your life, and the six month you've been riding with us are enough for me to determine that you have found your true calling. I know how meticulously you prepared yourself for it, and I haven't said that often to recruits, Éomer, but you show extraordinary promise. Your sense of duty is impressive for one so young. I cannot remember that I ever had to reprimand you for not doing what you had been told, and my memory is well, young rider! You learn fast, you get along well with your comrades, and your instincts are impressive. You are a very good rider, and your swordplay improves with each sparring. You are eager to prove yourself, and you would never be content with sowing crops and ploughing fields. With staying in the same place all your life, isolated from other people. Nay, Éomer son of Éomund, the blood of a warrior flows through your veins, whether you like it or not. It was written on your face the moment you swore your oath to Théoden-King, and it was written on your face last night when I asked for the two men to accompany me outside. This is your calling, and you would lie if you denied it. I know you that well at least."

The grey eyes pierced him, and Éomer felt naked under the knowing stare. It was as if Elfhelm was looking right into his head, and he wanted to shout his anger over the captain's intrusion right into his mentor's face. Yet something held him back, and it was the realisation that the older man was speaking the truth. He had hardly yet begun to live the life of a warrior, but already he knew that it was what he had been born for. It felt right. And yes, he wanted to protect their people, and teach their enemies to utter his name only with fear. But he also wanted to have Freya by his side. What was he to do?

Reading the storm of contradicting emotions in the young man's face, Elfhelm extended his arm and gave Éomer's hand a comforting squeeze.

"I am sorry, Éomer. She is a warm-hearted and courageous lass. I understand that you would feel that way toward her, but neither of you would find happiness if you stayed together. Think about it."

Not knowing what to answer, Éomer stared at the floor, heat flushing his face. This was not fair. Elfhelm could not forbid him to see Freya, not for as long as he did not neglect his duties. As silence stretched between them, the young rider understood that he was dismissed.

"Would that be all, Captain?"

"Yes, Éomer."

He rose to his feet, still unable to face the older warrior.

"Then I will go back to my post again. My watch has hardly begun yet."

"Éomer?" Elfhelm's deep voice was coloured with compassion. "Think about it. It is not I who stands between you. It's the circumstances."

Nodding, but avoiding his captain's gaze, Éomer turned toward the ladder.