AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is the revised version of "Always a Woman", now titled "The Jewel of Dol Amroth". I hope the story has more fluency and less grammar mistakes now. I must beg for your patient in these matters, for English is not my mother tongue. Now, I'll leave you with the story itself.
THE JEWEL OF DOL AMROTH
I
A KING'S FIRST NIGHT IN EDORAS
It was a very cold night. The darkness surrounded all of the land. Its presence couldn't be less appropriated, considering that that afternoon the late Théoden King had been buried, next to the grave of his ancestors, in the outskirts of Edoras.
Many people of all Middle Earth had come to pay him a last visit. There were Elves from the Golden Wood and Rivendell, Princes and noblemen from Gondor, Dunedain Rangers from the North, and those brave little hobbits from the Shire, who had helped to defeat the Dark Lord Sauron, the most terrible threat Middle Earth had ever faced since the Dark Enemy of the World had been defeated by the Valar.
And there were also the Marshalls and the fearless Riders of the Mark, those who had come to the aid of Gondor and gave hope to humanity by riding against the armies of the Dark Lord, precisely commanded by him who rested now in a grave. And with them, the entire people from Edoras.
Between those who mourned the late king was a young man, of wheat-colored hair, as any son of Eorl, and piercing grey eyes. His name was Eomer, Eomund' Son. Along with his sister Eowyn, they had planned to offer an evening feast for all their guests. Busy in the preparations, he had not taken time to think what was going to become of him, and of the Mark. For he had been called King by his uncle Théoden when the elder man was laying in the Pelennor Fields, shortly before of exhaling his last breath.
Now he had the time.
He could see all of Edoras through the large window of his office. If anyone would have entered at that very moment, they would have noticed that his eyes were very bright and even swollen. Like they were about to break in tears.
One time. He had cried only one time in his life, when he had been told his father had been attacked by Orcs and died shortly. After the death of his mother, however, he didn't allow himself to shed a tear, for the piercing screams and sobs from Eowyn were more that enough. Someone needed to calm her, and he had to be the one. He was always the one to whom Eowyn went when she felt scared or sad. But after he was made Third Marshall, the siblings often saw each other from time to time, and Eomer sometimes felt guilty for not being there whenever the Worm harassed his sister, for not wiping out her tears when Théoden began to lose his mind and there was nothing that could be done to help it.
And now he wanted to cry, for the man that he had loved as a father had been robbed from him, and to make matters worse, had imposed into Eomer's shoulders a task that was not meant to him: the throne of Eorl and the destiny of an entire land.
There was regret in his thoughts, right now. Eomer regretted with all his forces those moments in the Golden Hall, waiting impatiently for the time to go out and play with other children, instead of listening to his tutor and his tales of the seven stars and the seven stones and a white tree, or the last battle between Elves, Men and the Dark Lord… well, he had to admit he did like that tale. But he did not like the Elvish lessons, or the reasons their uncle gave to Eowyn and him. It was something about being them descendants of Queen Morwen, a Gondorian lady who had his husband, King Thengel, that their descendants would learn at least something concerning their Numenorean heritage. The child Eomer came to loath her memory, being it the cause for not going out to play in the afternoon. He had even promised that he would never take a Gondorian lady as a wife, to avoid his children taking such boring lessons. Eomer laughed softly at that memory, he could not have imagined that some years later, one of his best friends would be the very King of Gondor, not to mention the elven lady Arwen, his friend's wife!
He was a soldier and a leader of men. Not a farmer, not a herder. Not a scholar, either. Perhaps he wasn't fit to be a King. How could he rule the Mark, for Bema's sake! If only he had paid any attention to his lessons… Eowyn did, sometimes. Now, Eowyn was betrothed to Faramir, the Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, they would marry in a couple of months and she would be taken away from him, just like his father, his mother, his cousin and his uncle…
Someone came, suddenly; a soft knock on the door made him turn around.
"My king?" said a voice.
"You may enter" replied him, a little annoyed for his private thoughts having been disturbed.
It was a young boy who entered.
"Lady Eowyn asks you to come to the Golden Hall. The feast for the guests is about to start".
"I will go when I feel like going" answered Eomer, now getting more irritated. "Tell her so".
"Eomer!" A female voice said suddenly. "I heard you! Why are you saying this?"
As Eowyn spoke, she entered the fire lit room. She was dressed in green, the color of the Eorlingas, and a circlet surrounded her golden hair. Eomer approached to her, taking one of her hands. She deserved to know the feelings of his heart.
"You are leaving too…" he sighed.
"Well, I'll be coming whenever I can, you silly" she said, laughing a little. She understood what he felt, though. After the death of their parents, they had been always so close, always taking care of each other.
However, they had to move on, as the feast was about to begin. She took his other hand and leaded him to the door.
"Take your time, my dear brother. Dress appropriately and come as soon as you can". And she smiled to him again. "We Eorlingas need our king".
When he entered the Golden Hall, all clad in green and gold, he was thankful that in Rohan there were no heralds to announce his presence whenever he went, like the custom he had observed in Gondor. He knew that because of that custom Aragorn was secretly embarrassed to walk around Minas Tirith at daylight.
But, instead of a herald, Prince Imrahil appeared. They had befriended in the days following the finding of Eowyn in the Pelennor Fields. He brought to his mind all the vague memories he had from his father, the courage and love for his family, except from the Prince's raven hair and sea-green eyes. His eldest son, Elphir, looked very much the same. It wouldn't be a wonder if the three youngest, whom the Prince spoke so much of, had the same features.
He had never cared so much about people. Why now?
"A pleasure to see you always, friend. We thought that you were hiding" said Prince Imrahil, a light smile on his face.
"I wasn't. I just needed some time to think" answered Eomer. Then he gathered some courage to say aloud what he had been saying to himself during the burial. "Will I be a good king?"
"That, my friend, I don't know" said simply the Prince. "All I can tell you is that your love for your country will lead you in the right direction. When I assumed the rule of Dol Amroth I…" He suddenly looked behind him, and Eomer followed his gaze. He saw two people in the shadows, Eowyn talking to a woman he didn't know. Perhaps she was a new maid, or a friend of Eowyn's.
"Eomer, I would like to discuss with you about your new role as a ruler of Rohan but I fear that a pressing business is calling my attention. Would you excuse me? I will return in an hour".
"There is no problem, my friend" he replied.
Soon after the Prince left, two of his friends approached. Those two… this was going to be an interesting night, indeed. A night for mourning, but also to rejoice for the victory achieved thanks to the sacrifice of the mourned.
"Playing hide and seek, laddie?" said the dwarf
"He is reflective today" the elf stated. And looking at Eomer, added. "Fear not, because the blood of Eorl flows deep in you. And we, your friends, will be there whenever you need of us".
"Thanks, Legolas" said Eomer. "To think that I almost kill you that day at the plains…"
The elf smiled softly.
"This is your first night as a King in Edoras, and you should enjoy it" stated Legolas.
"All you need is to find a girl" Gimli said, while drinking his ale. "A fine girl. I would introduce you to some friends of mine, but I don't think you are into dwarf women…"
The three laughed soundly.
"And what about you, Gimli?" asked the man.
"There is a fine girl already for me, lad. She's waiting in a vast hall in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. And she'll be glad when I come home" replied the dwarf, before drinking more ale.
Before he knew it, Prince Imrahil was at his side, again.
"I suppose your business is over" Eomer said.
"Yes, yes" the Prince agreed. "Over at last." The questioning look in Eomer's face made him say "I will tell you soon about it, my friend. Very soon, in fact". And he sighed. "Well, what I was saying? Oh, yes. When I assumed the rule of Dol Amroth I…"
And the night went on and on, and Eomer thought that, after all, he was not alone. In that room, the guests were not only foreigners from very distant lands and races, but friends that would be always ready to give him some advice. Eomer King, right? It did not sound that bad. He somehow felt like a child again, expecting his coronation day…
"I will not fail you, Theodred, uncle", he thought. "I will be the king you both would have wanted me to be".