Eomer came awake suddenly. He had heard something, some noise from the hall, perhaps. The light from the window was still mostly from the moon, though with a lighter hint of grey suggesting morning was not far off.
He sat up, rubbed his face. A noise in the hall at this time of night meant something unusual had happened, which more than likely meant someone would shortly be knocking on his door. Ah, well. He would have been awake before long, anyway. Years of patrols had conditioned him to rising early, no matter his location.
Nonetheless, he didn't move immediately.
He'd been dreaming of Lisswyn again. Nothing erotic – probably a good thing if he was getting ready to be dragged into a crisis of some sort – he'd had his arms around her, though, had been looking down into her amused eyes. It wasn't a look he'd seen often.
It had been good to spend a little time with her at the stables. The boys had been excited to see her, to show off the horses they'd been working with, the new skills they had learned in just a matter of days. Breghelm had hung back at first, just watching, and Eomer had understood that the older man had been measuring Lisswyn. Evaluating her.
And eventually he'd come forward, welcoming her warmly to the stables, teasing the boys in front of her, insisting that she was to come to the stables whenever she desired, either to just check on the boys or to ride. He'd seen in her what Eomer did, and the older man's acceptance of her eased his heart.
Lisswyn had noticeably relaxed as well, had teased Breghelm in response, and Eomer had stepped back, had enjoyed watching her, watching all of them.
Later, Eowyn had told him that Lisswyn was winning friends among the women, too. After the way she had tended Ceolwyn, none of the wives of the members of the Royal Guard would hear any ill spoken of her. Wynne, Elfhelm's sister and well respected among the women, had yet to make up her mind about Lisswyn, Eowyn had added, but Wynne was nothing if not fair-minded. The whole conversation had encouraged him.
More sounds from the hall drifted toward him, and he threw back the covers. As much as he might like to linger in bed thinking of Lisswyn, there were other things to do. Surely some of the scouts would be returning soon, and he would have a better idea of what was happening with the orcs. Which in turn, might give him a clue as to when he could go to Dol Amroth. He had nearly abandoned the idea of waiting until he took his sister to Gondor. He didn't think he could wait that long to declare himself to Lisswyn.
The thought caused him to frown. It was disconcerting that the orcs were not his sole focus. A warrior couldn't afford to be distracted from the matter at hand, and he had never allowed himself to be so. With Aragorn's help, he would find the orcs and destroy their threat. He had no doubt of that, but the division in his concentration was unnerving.
He tried to imagine what it would be like if the situation with Lisswyn were resolved. If she were sleeping next to him, were waking now to wonder with him what was going on in the hall. Sighing at the thought of that kind of support, he stood.
As he did so, the expected knock came at the door to the sitting room. Grabbing his breeches, he pulled them on, went to open the door.
"Elfhelm." He turned, went back into the bedchamber to grab a shirt and his tunic. "I heard a disturbance in the hall." Pulling them on, he returned to the sitting room, looked at the other man expectantly.
"My apologies for waking you." Elfhelm had clearly also been rudely awakened, judging from the condition of his hair. "A young boy from the Eastfold has arrived. He looks as if he has been riding all night. Orcs are attacking the herds," he finished, his voice grim.
Eomer stiffened with fury. He'd been expecting it, but to have the threat to the horses confirmed enraged him. Pulling on his boots, he looked up. "Where is he?"
"In the hall."
"Send someone to wake the King of Gondor."
Elfhelm raised his eyebrow, and Eomer ruefully shook his head. The other man would have already done so, of course, anticipating that it would be Eomer's first request.
They walked out into the hall, and he saw a small group of people near one of the tables. Ealdred, Eowyn, Betta, and several members of his guard, including Eothain, were all standing in a circle around a young boy Eomer judged to have seen perhaps thirteen summers. It was hard to get a clear look at him, but from what Eomer could see, he looked exhausted.
As he and Elfhelm approached, Ealdred saw them and turned, bowing. The others followed, and the boy, who'd been sitting, struggled to stand – then promptly sprawled at Eomer's feet as his legs gave out.
With a sigh, Eomer leaned down, took his arm, hauled him up and back to the bench.
Obviously embarrassed, the boy immediately started to apologize. "I'm sorry, my lord—"
Eomer cut him off. "Don't." He looked up at Betta, started to speak.
She anticipated him. "Tille has gone for tea and a meal."
He nodded, wondered what that meal would entail. Hunlaf had indeed left Edoras the afternoon before, and Eomer was frankly grateful. There was already a more relaxed atmosphere in the hall, at least among the servants, and that translated itself to everyone else. But that might change in a hurry if there were no one capable to taking over the kitchen.
He turned his attention back to the boy, realized he was still trying to get back to his feet. Eomer settled on the bench next to him, hoped that would help him relax. "What is your name?"
"Penda, sire."
"Tell me what happened."
It was the right approach. The boy immediately lost his nervousness at being in the hall with the king as he focused on the crisis that had brought him to Edoras. "We've known for several days that orcs were following us – the horses have been skittish. Nervous."
Eomer nodded, encouraged him to continue.
"Three days ago, five of them attacked us, but we held them off." His voice strengthened, though the shadows below his eyes continued to give testament to his exhaustion. "A larger party returned night before last."
"How many?"
Penda looked down at his hands, apparently trying to count. "Perhaps fifty, maybe sixty?"
Eomer looked up, looked at Elfhelm and Eothain. Fifty or sixty still did not account for all the orcs they believed were out there, but it was a sizeable group.
He looked back at Penda, waited.
"Da split the herd, sent as many of them as he dared off in a different direction with the women and younger boys, sent me here." He looked up, his eyes wide, desperate. "When I left, he and the other men were fighting them off. I do not know how they fared."
Eomer looked up, saw Tille coming toward them with the promised tray. He could smell fresh bread, and a look at the young woman's face suggested that she, too, had been up all night. She sat the tray on the table, and he reached for it, slid it closer to Penda.
"Thank you, Tille." She bowed her head, then glanced at Betta for permission before hurrying back to the kitchen.
Eomer turned back to Penda, motioned to the food. "Eat your fill, and then Betta," he nodded to the housekeeper, "will show you to a bed."
Penda's head snapped up. "But sire," he protested. "The herds—"
Eomer laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I need to meet with my council, begin mustering my men. We will leave as soon as we can manage, but I need you to go with us as you best know the way. And you can't ride if you're too exhausted to stand." He firmed his voice. "You will eat, you will rest. And we'll wake you as soon as we're ready to leave."
The boy nodded slowly, understanding. "Thank you, sire."
There was a noise behind him, and Eomer looked up, saw that Aragorn had arrived while the boy was speaking. Standing, he motioned to his study, then turned to Betta. "We'll need another tray, Betta."
She nodded, headed toward the kitchen as Eomer led the way out of the hall.
Once in his study, he leaned on his desk, watched as the others followed him in.
Eomer looked at Aragorn. "Fifty or sixty."
The other man frowned. "It's possible, but I do not believe that is all of them, even if they've been fighting among themselves."
Eomer nodded, but before he could comment, Elfhelm spoke. "Two eoreds arrived late last night in response to the scouts you've sent out."
"They returned with you, I take it?" Eomer said to Eothain.
Eothain nodded. "Alric and Swedhelm from the west."
"That will help," He turned to Elfhelm. "Someone must remain here, to protect Edoras."
The other man stared at him, nodded slowly. "It is not my first choice."
"I know. But it will be best for Edoras if it is you. They know you." He held out his arm, Elfhelm clasped it.
"I'll go begin the muster."
Aragorn looked up. "I'll assist him, will prepare my own men."
Eomer nodded, watched all three of them leave before turning to Ealdred. "Check the kitchens, see what foodstuffs are available for us to take with us, to feed the men before we leave – particularly the eoreds that arrived overnight."
The other man nodded and left as well, and Eomer wondered again whether there would be anything at all to feed the riders before they rode out.
As if in answer, Betta appeared at the open door, another tray in her hands. She set it down on the table, and Eomer sniffed appreciatively at the scent of the fresh bread in addition to the usual breakfast fare of dried meat and cheese.
"Thank you, Betta. And please thank Tille for me."
The older woman nodded, obviously pleased by the courtesy, then left the room.
Eomer picked up a mug of tea, drank deep, looked at Eowyn.
"She stayed up all night, you know – Tille did. Baking," she said.
"So I gathered. At least we'll have fresh bread to offer the riders."
She nodded. "Betta is seeking a new cook, but in the meantime assures me that Tille will be able to do much to prevent us from going hungry." Her expression turned grim. "I want to go with you."
He met her eyes. "I know."
"You're not going to let me."
"I need you to stay here." He raised a hand, forestalled the first of her objections. "This isn't about your abilities. When have I ever doubted you?" He waited, watched her accept the truth of his words. Glancing around his study, he turned back to her. "We cannot both go, lest neither of us return and the Mark be left completely bereft. And I can not, will not, allow you to go in my place."
She turned, frustrated. "I know. But I hate once again being left here."
"So does Elfhelm," he pointed out. "There are many kinds of duties."
"I know," she repeated, and sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sorry? For asking to go to battle? That is not my sister."
Eowyn came over to him, put her arms around him. Leaned against his chest, and gave a weak laugh. "Sorry for giving you one more thing to think about this morning."
He kissed the top of her head. "Spending time with you is never a chore." He tilted her face up. "I really do need you here."
Nodding, she stepped away. "I understand that. I just…"
He touched her cheek. "I know."
She smiled at him, nodded at the tray. "Eat. I'll go check on things in the kitchen."
He watched her go.
An unusual amount of noise in the hall awakened Lisswyn. Dressing quickly, she hurried out, but despite a great number of people in the hall, she saw no one she really knew.
Moving toward the kitchen – and wasn't it nice to see the main door standing open? – she saw Eowyn, Betta, and several of the other women wrapping loaves of bread, dried meat and cheese into bundles. On the other side of the room, Tille was directing two other younger women in the shaping of additional loaves of bread.
"What is happening? May I help?"
Eowyn looked up, nodded. Motioned her over. "Orcs are attacking the herds; the men are going after them. Bundle the bread with smaller blocks of cheese." She indicated Tille.
"Tille believes we can get another batch of bread made before the men are ready to leave. While it's rising, we'll start on flatbread. We don't know how long they'll be gone, but we want to send them out with as much as we can."
Lisswyn nodded, began bundling the loaves. The men were going to war? Against orcs? She had a sudden flash of memory – orcs coming toward her, swords slashing down. Maegwen. She swallowed, forced nausea down. The King. She wanted to ask for more details, wanted to ask how many they would be going up against. Could not. Her tongue was frozen, and she could only continue the rote movements of wrapping the food.
Eowyn moved back over to her, spoke quietly. "A young boy from the Eastfold arrived in the night. Fifty orcs or so attacked their herds. Eomer does not believe it is all of them, but they might lead them to the rest."
Lisswyn turned, looked at her. "It could be an ambush."
"Two eoreds arrived from the west last night. With the riders from Gondor, over two hundred men will ride out."
Lisswyn nodded, relaxed a little. Many of the orcs had died outside the caves. Surely two hundred riders would be more than well matched against whatever of them were left.
The hours passed quickly, and it was nearly mid-morning before the kings and their men were ready to depart. Lisswyn had wanted to watch them, but the front of Meduseld was full of the other women, riders who were staying and servants, and she had despaired of finding a spot when Eowyn suddenly appeared in front of her. Grabbing Lisswyn's arm, she pulled her out a side door, and around to the front.
Where there had been no room a moment before, the crowd suddenly moved back, gave them space. She saw Firefoot saddled and ready at the bottom of the steps out of the hall, along with several other horses, one which she recognized as the King of Gondor's.
The doors from the hall suddenly opened, and the King came through, followed by King Elessar, a young boy about Eoden's age, and several other men she didn't know.
They paused in front of her and Eowyn, and the King looked first at his sister, then at Lisswyn. He didn't speak, just gazed at her for a long moment, then turned, flicked another glance at Eowyn before heading down the stairs. Followed by the other men, he mounted, glanced back at them one final time before nudging Firefoot with his knees. With a loud cry, he led the men out.
The hall was quiet after the riders left. Too quiet. Gradually, those who'd watched the departure drifted away to their tasks. Lisswyn moved toward the stairs to the lower level and the loom, but her heart wasn't in it.
"Lisswyn?"
She turned, saw Eowyn behind her.
"I'm returning to the kitchen to assist Betta with an inventory. Would you care to help us?"
Lisswyn nodded, grateful for the distraction.
Once in the kitchen, it became clear that Betta and Eowyn were using Hunlaf's departure as an excuse to clean out and thoroughly inspect the kitchen and storerooms. Tille had been rather forcefully ordered out of the kitchen to get some sleep.
As they worked, more than once Eowyn asked her opinion about something, or involved her in discussions with Betta, and it was not until Lisswyn was in one of the storerooms, counting spices that she realized how odd it was that the King's sister had done so. But with Hunlaf gone, perhaps they intended to have her help out in the kitchens.
Pondering the mystery of it lead back to thoughts of the King, and she paused, remembering the look he'd given her right before he'd rode off. She'd seen that look in his eyes before, and it thrilled, confused and saddened her, in equal measures.
It had meant different things at different times, and this time she was very much afraid it had been goodbye. A memory came, of him slumped next to Firefoot, an arrow sticking out of his shoulder, and her stomach twisted.
But no. She would not think that way. He was a mighty warrior, had been in far worse battles than the one he was facing now.
He wasn't hers, would never be hers, but he would come back from this battle, victorious over the orcs.
She focused on that while as she continued the inventory.
A/N: Another short chapter, but the next one should be along in a few days. I like to keep certain scenes together which occasionally forces me to choose between having a very long chapter and having two (or more) short ones.
And Phia asked why the scene in the kitchen is one of my favorites. I'm not sure. But I was particularly pleased with how Eomer's 'claiming the kingship' (as Elfhelm put it) came out. That's been one of the surprises in writing for me – I'd always assumed that writers must like everything they write equally well, and that's not the case. There are a number of scenes coming up in the story that I like a great deal (even well over a year after writing them.) I only hope you all like them as well.