Three days before the wedding, Eomer approached the stables with a grin on his face. Breghelm had found him earlier and rather pointedly noted that it had been nearly a week since Eomer had been in to spend any time with Firefoot. He hadn't needed to say any more – Eomer knew as well as anyone that while others could care for his horse, no one else could maintain the bond between them. Grateful to the stablemaster for giving him the excuse he needed to spend the afternoon riding, he'd arranged with Eothain to meet him outside the gates with a small contingent of guards. The fact that he could no longer ride by himself grated on every possible level, but the memory of the orc ambush was still too fresh for him to take unnecessary risks.
The thought of time with Firefoot wasn't the only reason for his good humor. The rebuilding of the city was nearly complete – he no longer saw piles of burnt wood where homes used to be – the harvest was in, guaranteeing his people food for the winter…and his wedding was in three days. Oh, yes. There was much to smile at.
He stepped into the stable, and immediately saw Dancer – what a name for a horse! – looking over the gate of her stall at him. He knew Lisswyn had been spending a lot of time with the mare – that was another of Breghelm's pointed comments, that his bride-to-be was making time for her mount – and as he went over to greet the horse, he wished for a moment that Lisswyn had the time to go with him. But she was meeting with the dressmakers this afternoon.
Hearing a noise, he turned, saw Eoden and Andric standing across the aisle, watching him. And immediately knew his good mood was at risk. Eoden's expression was worried, anxious, conflicted, but Andric…Andric was looking at him with such a look of open hostility, Eomer nearly turned to make sure there was no one standing behind him.
"Andric? Eoden? What is it? What's wrong?" Andric's expression darkened, and Eoden appeared to be struggling for a response, but before either of them answered, he heard a noise, perhaps that of a kitten crying, from the empty stall behind the boys. Puzzled, he started toward the stall, only to have Andric step in front of him.
"Leave her alone."
The boy's voice was surly, the disrespect so out of character that Eomer paused, stared. What was going on?
"Andric!" Eoden's distress, anger and confusion were apparent, and he shoved his brother out of the way. "You can't talk to him that way!"
Deciding to get to the bottom of the mystery before dealing with Andric, Eomer looked over the top of the stall, and immediately understood the source of Andric's odd behavior, if not why it was directed at him. Tucked up next to the wall, her face pressed against her knees as she wept, was Brynwyn.
"Brynwyn?" She didn't appear physically injured, and for just a moment, he considered fetching Lisswyn.
But Andric's anger had been directed at him.
He opened the gate and crossed over and crouched next to her. "Brynwyn? What is it?" She didn't respond, and feeling helpless, he reached out, stroked her hair. "I need to know what's wrong."
"Why should she talk to you? You're sending her away!" Andric's words were bitter, and Eomer looked over, saw the boys standing in the door of the stall. Eoden appeared to be physically holding his brother back.
His own impatience came to the fore. "What do you mean?"
Eoden, hope and renewed trust in his eyes, answered. "She came out a little while ago, weeping. Someone told her that you won't want her around anymore, after the wedding, so it can be just you and Lisswyn, and that you'll be fostering her out."
Eomer bit back an oath, and turned back to the little girl. "Brynwyn." He spoke sharply, and when she didn't look up, he sat down, hauled her onto his lap, forced her hands away from her face. "You're not going anywhere."
It took a moment for the words to register, so he repeated them, and this time, she finally looked at him, the tears starting to slow.
"But they said it's normal to foster out, and you'd send me sooner rather than later," she finally said, her voice wobbly.
Already knowing the answer, he asked, "Who said that to you?"
She shook her head, dragged a fist across her face to wipe it. "I don't know her name. One of the women. She was in the hall at lunch. There were two of them."
He would bet Firefoot it was Alfild.
"Listen to me. All of you," he added, casting a glance at the boys. "It's true that it is not unusual for children of Meduseld to be fostered out – to go to a different village or eored to live for a while." Brynwyn's lips were quivering again, and she pressed them together to keep from crying – very much as he'd seen her sister do on more than one occasion. As firmly as possible, he added, "But it wouldn't be for a very long time, and it's always to someone their parents know and trust. And Lisswyn and I would never make you go if you truly didn't want to."
"I won't want to. I like it here." Brynwyn sounded so definite, he nearly smiled.
"That's fine, then. Though if you want to rethink that in ten or so years and perhaps go to Ithilien to stay with my sister for awhile, you can do that."
"Lady Eowyn?"
He nodded.
"Not right now?"
"Absolutely not."
As Brynwyn relaxed, he looked up at the boys again. Eoden's expression was now one of relief, but Andric, his anger drained away, simply looked stricken as he realized just how out of line he'd been. He turned and darted away. Eomer looked down at the little girl in his lap. Obviously, he needed to talk to Andric, but it might not hurt the little boy to wait for a while, to really think about what had happened. And it would give Eomer time to consider how to approach him.
In the meantime, he'd take the opportunity to try to make it as clear as possible to the people of Edoras what he intended his relationship to be with Lisswyn's sister. "Brynwyn? Would you like to go for a ride on Firefoot with me?"
Her eyes went wide with surprise and delight, and she nodded. As he stood, then helped her to her feet, he could only hope it would always be so easy to deal with her tears.
Eomer brought Firefoot around, slowed him to a walk. The stallion snorted, making Brynwyn laugh, and Eomer grinned. Surrounded by some of his guard, they'd galloped hard in a circle around the city, and Firefoot was plainly ready to go again – as was the little girl in front of him. It amused him that his horse, while very much enjoying the run, had obviously been aware of their small passenger. Though as spirited as always, Firefoot had been more controlled, even careful, than was common for him when Eomer alone was on him.
As for Brynwyn, she seemed fearless on the back of the warhorse. Her hands fisted in his mane, the faster Firefoot had run, the louder she had laughed.
In the spring, he'd see about acquiring a pony for her. It was time she learned to ride for herself.
He motioned with his arm, started back toward the gates of the city. He wouldn't have minded another circuit of the city himself, but he still needed to talk to Andric, and it would be unfair to the boy to postpone the conversation unnecessarily.
As they rode back into Edoras, he saw more people noting where Brynwyn rode. That was good. Although she would obviously never be in a position to rule, he intended to raise her as his daughter, and the sooner his people understood that, the better.
Fostering her out because he wouldn't want her around, indeed. Fury at Alfild spiked through him, and he forced it back. It was true that it was common for royal children to spend part of their late childhood living away from Edoras with another eored or even in Gondor – the relationships that were formed strengthened ties between the King and his far-flung subjects, as well as other kingdoms.
But for anyone to have suggested he would send a child Brynwyn's age somewhere else, let alone do it simply to have her out of Edoras…he was going to have to figure out what to do about Alfild. That was apparent. But if he sent her back to the Eastfold, she would twist the entire situation around to make additional problems for him and Lisswyn, he was sure of it.
They reached the stables, and Eoden came out to help him as he dismounted and reached up for Brynwyn. He brushed his hand over her hair, smoothed it back. "Why don't you go find Lisswyn and Hilde? They may be wondering where you are." She nodded, and would have turned away, but he called her back. "Brynwyn?"
"Sire?"
"In the future, when someone says something that upsets you, no matter what it is, ask me or Lisswyn before assuming it's true."
She stared at him for a long moment, then solemnly nodded her head before turning to dart off.
In silence, Eoden helped him curry Firefoot, and then Eomer looked at him. "Where is your brother?"
Anxiety came and went in Eoden's eyes. "At the paddocks, sire."
Eomer nodded, and reaching out, squeezed Eoden's shoulder, held it for a moment before turning to leave.
He'd thought Andric would be exercising one of the horses in the paddock, but instead the boy was leaning disconsolately against the fence, staring into the empty ring. Eomer went over, leaned against the fence next to him.
Andric tensed, but didn't look at him. "My lord." His voice was so soft, Eomer could barely hear it.
"What would your mother think of what happened earlier?" Perhaps it was an unfair question, but he thought he knew what the answer would be, and he wanted Andric to see the situation framed not only in terms of his disrespect to his king, but also as a way of reminding him he still had someone who would serve as a parent to him.
Startled by the question, Andric looked up at him, then swallowed, looked away again, his shoulders hunched. "She'd thrash me for speaking that way to you."
Eomer nodded, turned to join him in staring at the empty paddock. And remembered himself as a young boy, awaiting his fate. And remembered, too, his uncle's mercy.
"I'm not going to thrash you, Andric." This time. He left the words unspoken, knew the boy heard them in his voice, though Eomer would bet there would never be a time where Andric's transgressions, whatever they were, were serious enough to result in such punishment. But he wanted there to be no doubt in Andric's mind who he answered to. "But you have to understand that while you're allowed to be honest with me, even angry, you must never again display that kind of disrepect – not only to me, but to anyone in authority over you."
Andric looked up at him, relief, sorrow, and shame intermixed on his face. "My father would have thrashed me for speaking to anyone that way," he admitted.
Eomer nodded. "It matters that you were trying to defend someone weaker and smaller than you. That is an admirable trait. But you must learn whom to defend such people from – and whom to trust."
He saw the shame intensify in Andric's eyes. "I do trust you, sire. But Brynwyn was so upset, so sure of what she'd been told…" he faltered.
"All the more reason to come to me or Lisswyn. Andric, it is not going to be easy for any of you, living in Meduseld. There are always going to be those who are envious of you, or think to make trouble or mischief by twisting things, or even by spreading outright lies. And the only defense against such is the truth – which can only be determined by honesty between us."
Andric nodded, and Eomer reached over, squeezed his shoulder. "Do you not have tasks Breghelm assigned you to do today?"
"Yes, sire."
"Then you had better get started on them. As I recall, explaining to him why chores are delayed is no easy matter."
Andric gave him a weak grin in response, and they started around the paddock together.
Lisswyn smiled and stepped back, admiring the dress in front of her before turning the smile on the women next to her.
"It's beautiful, my lady, if I do say so myself," the older of the two said, a satisfied tone in her voice.
"It is indeed, Jena, thanks to you, to both of you," Lisswyn replied, nodding to Garwyn, the other dressmaker, as well.
Made of ivory silk with a dark green overskirt and gold trim, her bridal gown was lovelier than anything she'd ever dreamed of as a girl. Elegant, but still simple – at least for a royal wedding – in keeping with her desire not to seem ostentatious when so many people in Edoras were still suffering.
Jenna and Garwyn had made it clear they understood both the sacrifice it had been for Lisswyn not to make the dress herself, and the honor she'd given them by asking them to make it. They'd more than willingly collaborated with her on the dress's design, and a friendship of sorts had grown up between the three of them.
A glance out the window told her the afternoon was nearly gone. Truly, the dress was finished barely in time. There were two days left until the festival and their wedding, but with the city already full of visitors, the celebrations had started, and it seemed every moment of the next two days would be busy.
"Are you coming to the tea?" she asked them, turning to once again straighten the dress hanging before them.
Garwyn nodded, an eager smile on her face, but Jena shook her head. "I'm not." There was humor in the older woman's tone. "Those fancy things are not for the likes of me."
Lisswyn frowned, and turned to look at her more closely. The tea that afternoon was intended for all the women of Edoras, noblewoman and commoner alike. Although social divisions were more relaxed in the Riddermark than they apparently were in Gondor, they were present, and such gatherings were rare. Nonetheless, it was important to Lisswyn that everyone feel welcome.
Jena smiled at her. "Don't fret, my lady. I would go if I had a mind to." Her smile turned wry. "I'm just too old to appreciate spending my afternoon with all those women with nothing better to talk about than how ugly their neighbor's dress is."
Lisswyn choked back a laugh. "I'm afraid you have a point. Alas, I must go. Perhaps the presence of Queen Arwen and Princess Lothiriel will keep the conversation from focusing overmuch on the dresses around them."
Jena smiled. "It might at that. A fair number of the women are intimidated by the Queen of Gondor."
It was easy to see why, Lisswyn reflected, as she left to make her way to the side porch where the women were to gather. Arwen was as beautiful, perhaps more so, than what the rumors of her had tried to convey. And Lothiriel was stunning as well.
The two women, along with some of the other Gondorian nobility, had arrived three nights earlier in the company of King Elessar – who'd gone south to escort them to Edoras immediately upon being made aware of the wedding plans after his return from the north. Lisswyn had been expecting the Queen, of course – that had been the point of Elessar's trip south. But she'd been surprised by Lothiriel's presence.
She was glad the Princess had come. Although it was impossible not to feel a little shy around her – a feeling that Arwen didn't engender in her at all – watching how completely oblivious Eomer was to the Princess had been reassuring. And the other woman seemed nearly as oblivious to him, her eyes frequently resting on one of the Gondorian soldiers who'd traveled with them.
At the door to the porch, she paused, looked down to make sure her dress was still neat. Eowyn had surprised her the day before with several additional dresses she'd had Jena and Garwyn make for her, noting that, as queen, she'd need more than just her wedding dress – and was likely to be too busy to make them herself, at least before the wedding.
Still moved by the gift, Lisswyn smiled and touched the soft blue material appreciatively, then took a deep, steadying breath before reaching for the door.
As she did, a voice carried clearly through it. Alfild. Eomer had told her of what had happened the day before with Brynwyn, but they had decided to wait until after the wedding to figure out what to do about the woman.
Apparently, Alfild wasn't going to give them that opportunity to delay.
"…mark my words. No one knows what happened that night before she was rescued, but it's not hard to guess given what we know of Hunlaf, and that's the reason for this rushed wedding. Before long, we'll be greeted with news the new queen is with child. You mark my words."
Cold fury propelled Lisswyn through the door as Alfild finished speaking.
Silence fell, as even those who'd only been paying half-attention to Alfild looked over and saw Lisswyn. Alfild's smug look faded as she finally noted Lisswyn's presence, and Lisswyn saw a flash of panic in the other woman's eyes before the smug look reappeared.
Lisswyn spoke first. "By all means, Alfild," she said quietly, keeping her voice even. "Let us mark your words." She glanced around at the other women, was relieved to see none of the visitors from Gondor were yet present. "It will be important that these women remember your words if their men are once more called to fight a war, this time a civil war, caused by your spiteful tongue."
"What? What are you accusing me of?" Alfild jumped to her feet, and Lisswyn wondered if the woman would actually dare to strike her.
"Nothing. You're the one doing the accusing. I'm merely pointing out the possible consequences of your words. You've just accused Eomer-king of plotting to deceive the people and put a Dunlending on the throne after him."
As she watched, Lisswyn saw comprehension dawning on the faces of the women around her, and their expressions turned from mild amusement and guilt at having been caught listening to Alfild's gossip to fear and anger.
As one, they all looked at her.
"That's not what I said. I never said that. You're twisting my words." Panicked, Alfild looked around for support, and saw only stony faces in response.
"No, I don't think I am. You were suggesting that Hunlaf raped me the night I was captured by him, that I'm with child, and that the reason the King is rushing the wedding is that he intends to claim the child as his own, as the heir to the crown. That is, of course, a serious accusation to make against your king, but circumstances could make it even more worse."
"Are you with child?" The voice came from the side of the room, and Lisswyn looked over, saw the speaker was Wynne. They had had a few conversations during the past few weeks, with the other woman civil, but still reserved. Lisswyn had had the sense that she was still being evaluated by her. It was understandable, but made her nervous as well. Wynne played a significant role among the women of the court. Well-respected among the people of Edoras, her response now could be critical.
"No." Lisswyn kept her eyes on Wynne, her voice level. "I have never lain with a man, and while Hunlaf made it clear he planned to rape me," in spite of herself, she swallowed against the memories, "Eomer-King and Lord Faramir arrived before he could do so."
Someone sighed in relief, and Lisswyn grimaced. Could they really all be so dense?
"Then if you're not with child, there's nothing to worry about."
Lisswyn didn't know the woman who spoke, but Wynne clearly did. Impatiently, she said, 'Not unless she's fortunate enough to get with child very early in her marriage."
Looks of relief turned back to confusion and uncertainty.
"Wynne is correct." Lisswyn looked around, allowed her eyes to touch on Alfild. The woman's expression was both angry and bewildered, as if she couldn't figure out how she'd gone from being in control and the center of attention to being virtually ignored and very nearly accused of crimes against the state.
Lisswyn looked back at the other women, and Wynne. "If I do not immediately become pregnant with the King's child," the words themselves sent a rush of pleasure through her, despite the current situation, "then all will be well. But if I'm blessed with a child very early, such as the first week or two after the wedding, it will still be possible for people to say the child might be Hunlaf's. Babies are not infrequently born six weeks early."
"And the rumor that Alfild has started would hang over the child's head from the very beginning," Lisswyn finished, suddenly weary.
Wynne waited a moment, then nodded slowly and said, "And all it would take would be someone five, ten, fifteen, even twenty years from now to grow discontent with the king for some reason, and suddenly the accusations would be back. Civil war between those looking for trouble – and such are always present, somewhere – and those loyal to the king." She looked rather pointedly at Alfild as she finished speaking.
Silence fell, and Lisswyn stared off the porch, to the mountains in the distance, for a long moment. Discouraged, she finally looked back at the women, saw them all waiting. Presumably for her response.
"There were a number of reasons why it was decided to have the wedding at the same time as the harvest festival," she said. "Some were personal, and included the fact that the king didn't believe it would look right for me to continue living in Meduseld if we weren't wed, but with so many homes burnt by the orcs, there were no cots to spare. But other reasons were of a more general nature. The date itself was actually suggested by the Prince of Dol Amroth. He thought it would give our people – give you – an additional reason to celebrate after the horrors of the past months. And based on the numbers of Eorlingas who've made their way to Edoras over the past few days, it seems he was correct."
She paused, glanced at Alfild, then back to the others. "The only way I can see to absolutely prevent any potential problems in the future is to delay the wedding until after it's clear to everyone – even Alfild – that I'm not currently with child. If you were looking forward to the wedding, I suggest you take up the matter of your disappointment with Alfild. If you'll excuse me, I must go notify the king that we'll be delaying the wedding."
Angry murmurs broke out, but none of them seemed directed at her, so Lisswyn, knowing tears were imminent, turned to leave.
"My lady Lisswyn."
Taking a deep breath, Lisswyn turned back. She couldn't simply walk out, no matter how badly she wanted to do so – she needed the best possible relationship with these women, no matter when the wedding took place.
She looked around, identified the speaker as Mylla, the midwife.
Standing, Mylla looked at the women, now silent once more, before turning her gaze back to Lisswyn. "If you are willing to endure a bit of indignity, I believe I have a solution to this problem."
Squashing hope, Lisswyn nodded for her to continue.
"Experienced midwives can tell when a woman has lain with a man," she finally said. "We can also frequently tell when a woman is carrying a child, even very early in the pregnancy."
As the implication of what she was saying registered, Lisswyn felt herself flush. Indignity, indeed. But it would be worth the embarrassment if such an inspection allowed the wedding to continue. Instead of responding to Mylla, however, she turned, looked at the other women before looking last at Wynne
"Will you have the examination?" Wynne asked.
"Will you accept whatever the midwives say the results are?" Lisswyn countered.
Wynne's eyebrows went up at the challenge in Lisswyn's tone, but her lips twitched in what looked to nearly be a smile. Before she could respond, Betta stood, walked over to stand by Lisswyn.
"I already believe her," she said flatly. "Not because of her, necessarily, but because I know the King to be an honorable man who would never betray the Mark in the manner that Alfild is suggesting." She turned to Lisswyn. "But having the midwives prove the accusation for nothing more than spiteful lies would prevent others from trying to join her in destroying the Riddermark."
Were the others aware of the none-too-subtle campaign going on to further discredit Alfild?
"We will accept whatever the midwives say," Wynne said firmly. "And if you're blessed quite quickly with a child, and are indeed, carrying our lord's heir a month from now, there will only be rejoicing."
Grateful, Lisswyn looked at her, met the other woman's eyes. Wynne was fully aware of her own position at court, and knew the gift of trust and acceptance she'd just given Lisswyn.
Lisswyn took a deep breath. "That's settled, then. As soon as the tea is over," she looked inquiringly at Mylla, "I'll let the midwives examine me. I would prefer not to have any more of this celebration," she motioned around her, "disrupted by Alfild's gossip."
"Afterward would be fine." Mylla said.
Lisswyn turned to where Alfild was still standing, apparently trying to decide between making an exit and in attempting to bluff her way through staying for the tea.
"I would leave, Alfild," she said quietly. "Although the day may come when you're welcomed back at court – and how you behave from now on will probably determine that – I think everyone will agree that someone who was willing to make the accusations you were making against the king does not belong at that same king's court."
Alfild flashed her a venomous look, then stormed off. Lisswyn turned, watched her go, wondering what other trouble the woman would cause.
"You handled that very well." Wynne spoke quietly from beside her.
"Thank you." Lisswyn turned to her. "Your support helped."
"I believe the king has chosen well."
With that, she turned and walked away to help herself to one of the little cakes sitting out on a table, leaving Lisswyn to stare after her in a bemused fashion.
"You do know that having her on your side will make all things at court easier, don't you?" Betta murmured in her ear, and Lisswyn turned to her, grinned. She did know. And once again, felt truly hopeful about the future.
"I appreciate your support, as well," she told the housekeeper.
Betta shrugged, but her eyes gleamed with pleasure and humor. "I, too, believe the king has chosen well," she finally said.
"I still think you should tell Eomer immediately." Eowyn scowled at her. "He should know what Alfild accused him of."
Lisswyn watched Eowyn pace around her room. It was nearly time for the evening meal, and in addition to the two of them, there were a number of other women present, including Mylla, Hilde, Liffild, and Ceolwyn.
"Given the way gossip spreads, I'm sure he'll find out soon enough," Lisswyn said. "There's no point in rushing it." She didn't add that she was reluctant to appear as if she were telling tales, or that her first response in any situation would be to run to the king.
Changing her focus, Eowyn muttered, not for the first time, "Oh, I wish I'd been there."
Privately, Lisswyn was torn between also wishing Eowyn had been there, and in thinking it was possibly a good thing she hadn't been. She was clinging to the hope that good had come out of the situation, particularly in her relationship with Wynne and some of the other women.
The door to Eowyn's chamber was suddenly slammed open, and as one, they all jumped.
Eomer stood there, and an apology for not bothering to knock appeared to be the last thing on his mind. He was furious, as angry as she'd ever seen him.
Oh, yes, she thought. He knows.
"Out. All of you." He flicked a glance around the room, then pinned Lisswyn with his eyes, dismissing everyone else.
They all fled, and even Eowyn looked startled as she allowed herself to be chased from her own chamber, ducking back in a moment later to close the door behind her.
"Are you alright?" he asked harshly.
She should have known that would be his first question, no matter how angry he was. "I'm fine."
He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "What were you thinking? You cannot respond to gossip like that. You allowed yourself to be manipulated!"
Lisswyn froze as awareness dawned that at least part of his anger was directed at her, that he didn't like how she'd handled the situation.
Hurt, guilt, fear, and temper all vied for control.
Temper won.
She stood, and with effort, kept her voice even, her words precise. "I will tell you what I was thinking, Your Majesty." She saw him react to the title, but plowed on. "I was thinking of how to protect any child you might get me with in the next week or two. Assuming I let you near me."
He scowled at that, but before he could comment, Lisswyn continued. "What would you have had me do? I'm perfectly aware that the best response to gossip is usually to ignore it. But she was suggesting that I'm already with child. Hunlaf's child." She spit out the words, struggled again to maintain control.
"The way I saw it, we had four choices. We could postpone the wedding until it was obvious I was not with child. We could have had the wedding, but postponed the wedding night for the same reason." His scowl deepened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Lisswyn cut him off once more with a slash of her hand. "Or I could have ignored her, ignored the rumors she was spreading, and spent the first month of our marriage desperately hoping I wouldn't become pregnant, that our first child wouldn't spend his or her life under that shadow of doubt. I could not, would not, risk that, and thus chose the only other option, the one Mylla offered."
Suddenly weary beyond reason, her temper dissipated, Lisswyn leaned against Eowyn's table, and stared at him. "Please tell me which of those other choices I should have made. I would really like to know."
Instead of answering, he started toward her, to come to an abrupt halt when Lisswyn held out her hand, stopping him. "Give me a moment," she said.
She saw hurt flicker in his eyes as he registered that she didn't want to be held, and she rubbed her face, trying to find calm in the midst of too many emotions. The day had been too long, too busy, too wearying. Too disturbing.
Taking a deep breath, she looked back at him. He seemed completely at a loss. More quietly, she said, "Please tell me what you would have had me do. It's the only way I'll learn."
He shook his head in frustration. "I hate that you were put into that situation. You should not have had to face those accusations. Should not have had to have that exam. Your virtue should never have been questioned."
It was the same tone of voice he'd used the night he rescued her from Hunlaf, and understanding the guilt he was feeling drained the rest of her anger. Going to him, she wrapped her arms around him, leaned against his chest. Slowly, a bit hesitantly, his arms came up, enfolded her.
They stood that way for a long moment, and then she looked up, stared intently at him. "You are not responsible for any and all ills that befall me," she said quietly, firmly. "You can not prevent every unpleasant thing from happening, nor do I expect you to."
He nodded slowly, and lowered his forehead to rest against hers. "I want to. I want to protect you. Shield you."
"Then you should not have chosen me to be your queen, as you can not protect me from everything," she said quietly.
He stiffened in response, then relaxed. "I know."
She dropped her head back onto his chest, gave in to the weariness. He still hadn't told her how she should have handled the situation at the tea, and despair bubbled up through the exhaustion. She'd thought the situation had gone as well as could be expected. If she could be that far wrong, what hope was there that she would ever figure out what it took to be a good queen?
They stood that way, with her resting against him, for some moments, until Eomer gradually became aware that his tunic was damp.
She was weeping.
He froze, uncertain of how to respond. "Lisswyn?"
She shook her head, rubbed her cheek against him, but didn't answer.
"Please tell me. I may not be able to protect you, but…" But what? Damn it, he still wanted the opportunity to try, and how could he do so if he didn't know why she was crying? Had something else happened the gossips hadn't reported?
"I'm so afraid," she finally whispered.
He held her more tightly. "Of what?"
"Of letting you down. Of letting our people down. Of disappointing you. Of making a mistake. Of not being a good queen. I don't know what I'm doing."
As the words spilled from her, regret for the accusations he'd hurled at her earlier rushed through him. She was already doubting herself, and his response to what had happened at the women's tea had only made it worse.
Leaning down, he pressed a kiss on her hair. "You think I don't still feel all the same things?"
Startled, she looked up, and he wiped her cheek with his thumb.
"I knew about as much about being king as you do about being queen when my cousin and uncle died," he said. "And I still have days where I'm afraid the entire Riddermark will suffer for that, if they haven't already."
Indignation stirred in her eyes. "You're a good king. People are already calling you Eadig. Blessed."
"I do my best," he murmured, "and have to trust it will be enough." He ran a hand through her hair, down her back. "And you must do the same. People are already saying the same thing about you, you know. That you're going to be a good queen."
Confused, she looked at him, looked away.
He gripped her chin, forced her eyes back to his. "I was frustrated by what happened this afternoon not because I truly thought you should have acted other than you did, but because I hated that it had happened at all. Hated that you had to go through that examination by the midwives. But others are talking only of how impressed they were that you didn't lose your temper, of the way you took control of the situation. And the Lady Wynne has declared to everyone that she's grateful I had the sense to choose a level-headed queen."
"And it is not only the people of Edoras who are growing to love you," he continued. "The eoreds talk to one another, and the story of your concern for Freawald and his family, as well as the compassion you showed to his daughter, is making its way all over the Mark."
Blushing, she hid her face in his chest again. "I did what anyone would do," she muttered.
"Maybe so," he said gently. "But that doesn't change the fact that a queen capable not only of feeling such compassion but also acting on it is going to be well-loved by the people."
"I banished Alfild from court," she murmured.
"I heard. I also heard that someone told her she was fortunate it was you and not Eowyn, as you only banished her, and Eowyn might have seen fit to run her through with a sword first."
Lisswyn laughed, and simply leaned against him.
"So does this mean I'm no longer in danger of what you threatened me with earlier?"
Puzzled, she looked up, and he grinned at her. "Of not being allowed near you after we're wed?"
She laughed, then her eyes darkened with mischief, and she leaned up to say softly in his ear, "We will be wed in two days, my lord."
Knowing from her tone there was more, he said, "yes?"
"I've been declared a virgin by what felt like every midwife in the Riddermark." Her eyes were still dancing even as a blush made its way up her cheeks. "If I slipped into your room tonight, no one would ever know we'd anticipated the ceremony."
Desire slammed into him as he simply stared at her, stunned, and watched the blush darken. "You tease," he finally muttered. "You shouldn't make empty promises like that. I might take you up on them."
Laughing, she once again rested her head on his chest, then yawned. "I'm afraid that even if I dared attempt such a thing, I would be a terrible disappointment to you. I'd probably fall asleep en route to the bed."
"You could never disappoint me," he said. "But I'll enlist Eowyn and Hilde's help to see that you get a lot of sleep over the next two nights, just to be on the safe side."
She laughed at him again, and he sighed, rubbed her back. "Speaking of Eowyn, I'd better go find her and apologize for throwing her out of her chambers."
"Not to mention the other women who were in here. What if someone had been changing clothes?"
He kissed her lightly. "It wouldn't have mattered, as I had eyes only for you."
A/N: Getting very close to the end, now. :)
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