Sunniva poured the last steaming bucketful of hot water into the wooden tub and turned to look at Éomer who was busying himself with removing his armor. She idly picked up a wash cloth and hung it over the side before searching for a lump of soap.
"The battle went well I trust?" she asked.
Éomer glanced up from his task. "It was more of a raid" he said with half a smile. "The Orcs were not expecting us; we killed all but a few." He paused, turning his gaze to the shuttered window. "It was a good victory all the same."
Sunniva nodded. "Come now, get in while the water is still hot and I shall wash your back." She turned her back to him as he continued to remove his layers before he gingerly slid into the warmth of the bath.
"You do not change," Éomer laughed, "you still think me a child" he chided teasingly.
"Who else will tend to you? Until you find yourself a wife I have to be your mother." She paused, feeling her tongue had been too loose.
Éomer glanced behind him at her sudden silence. "You speak the truth Sunniva; you have been like a mother to both myself and my sister."
Sunniva relaxed and soaped up the cloth before setting to scrubbing the dirt and sweat from his back. "Have you thought of visiting Gondor?" she finally pried, "Perhaps you could visit your sister and visit Prince Imail of Dol Amroth."
Éomer glanced back at her his expression darkening. "The counselors have been in your ear again" he said a little too grumpily.
"Yes, that is true, but it is also true that I want to see you happy with a wife, a Queen for our lands."
"I have not even seen the maid Lothíriel clearly, Prince Imail keeps her tightly bundled, how am I to decide to marry someone I have yet to even talk with!" He splashed at the water like a moody child.
"Perhaps if you asked Lord Faramir to accompy you the Prince would not feel so protective, after all they are kin" she continued, ignoring his small outburst.
Éomer gave a small nod, "I'll think on it." He furrowed his brow, "Let's not dwell upon such things, talk of something else."
Sunniva became still as if deciding silently if she should bring up a question, Éomer sensed her thoughts easily.
"What holds your tongue Sunniva?" he asked, amusement creeping back into his voice, it was a rare occasion when Sunniva did not speak her mind.
"I wonder my lord," she began hesitantly, "has little Aedre done something to displease you?" She paused, feeling the muscles on his back tighten. "You used to always call for her and now it is only me or one of the other serving girls, I thought her quiet nature pleased you."
"No, she has not displeased me" Éomer said stiffly.
"Than what troubles you about her?" Sunniva asked boldly. "She does her work well enough," she paused again, "I thought… perhaps her appearance…"
"No, it has nothing to do with her looks" Éomer snapped. "I just grew tired of her being unable to speak."
Sunniva eyed him with suspicion knowing he was keeping some part of the truth from her. Éomer felt her gaze and looked back at her, his eyes darkening. "Fine, send for her to clean the mud from my armor, she can then take it to the leather worker, it needs mending." He paused before adding more, "The time away has probably lessened my irritation!"
Sunniva gave a soft chuckle, "Your anger always did work faster than your lips." She patted his shoulder before standing up straight and passing him the washrag. "I'll send her up with some fresh broth and a mug of warmed Mead."
Éomer heard her footsteps leave the room and with a scowl of annoyance carried on with his washing.
---
Aedre jumped at the touch of a hand upon her shoulder and turned to see Sunniva, the older woman smiled warmly before picking up a nearby bowl and spooning hot broth into it.
"See Aedre," she beamed, "I've just come from Éomer King, he is not displeased as we feared."
Aedre looked on, watching the woman busy herself with preparing a tray for the king, she frowned slightly at Sunniva's words. The truth of the matter was that it was Sunniva that had feared Éomer King's displeasure with Aedre, not Aedre herself.
"He wants you to take him his meal and you are to clean his armor, carefully now though." Sunniva stuck a cloth into Aedre's apron string before placing bowl of wax on the tray the food was to be carried on. Aedre tried to control the rising sickness that had begun to cling to her stomach as Sunniva stuck a red hot poker into a mug full of Mead causing the contents to bubble for a moment. She pushed the tray into Aedre's hands and gave her a kindly smile.
"Off you go." She flapped her hand distractedly before turning back to another chore.
Aedre quickly left the kitchen, hoping that her visit would be at least brief; if she worked fast perhaps he would not pay her presence much mind.
She warily entered his chambers and instantly saw him standing by the fire, rubbing his long hair between his hands in an effort to dry it. He looked up as she entered, his eyes connecting with hers for a moment before Aedre broke the contact and hurriedly put the tray down nearby. Avoiding looking at him again she picked up the bowl of soft wax and pulled the cloth from her apron, making for the discarded armor sitting in a corner. She pulled away some of the fur rugs so as not to stain them and then sat herself down upon the cold, hard ground, pulling the large piece of chest armor between her legs to gain better access for cleaning it. She attacked her job with vigor, rubbing forcefully but gently, removing dirt and blood and bringing out the gleam the armor held secret underneath. She was so engrossed in making herself focused that she did not hear his footfalls coming towards her and when she again reached for the pot to renew her cleaning wax her hand enclosed around his. He was sat upon his haunches not two feet from her, his hand wrapped round the bowl, preventing her from taking it. With a small noise of surprise she drew her hand back, her eyes coming to rest upon his face.
His dark hazel eyes held her gaze to his for a moment before her own eyes darted past him as if searching for an escape route. Éomer reached out and tenderly, gently took her hand in his. Aedre could hear her heart beat drumming deafeningly within her ears, the panic threatening to engulf her.
"Aedre." Her name passing his lips startled her enough to shock her into stillness; her eyes flew to his, surprise clearly shining in their depths. "I should not have avoided you for so long a time." He paused and licked his dry lips. "I am sorry; I did not mean to treat you so badly…" He paused again. "The feast, my actions were unforgivable, too much drink made me forget myself." He looked up into her stunned face, his brow furrowed, her expression making him wonder if she had understood anything. "Do you understand my words?"
Aedre seemed to shake herself a little as if only just regaining the power to move her body, slowly she nodded and then after a moment's hesitation she shook her head.
"You don't understand?" Éomer said, trying to understand her meaning.
Aedre nodded and put her hands to her lips, making a motion as if speaking.
"You understand words?" Éomer's brow furrowed deeper.
Aedre shook her head, hesitated and then removed her hand from his; carefully she placed her hand to his lips, making the same gesture.
"You understand my words" Éomer's brow relaxed and a small smile wound its way onto his lips, Aedre nodded, a weak smile also appearing on her face.
"Then what is it you do not understand?"
Aedre glanced around the room and then down at the armor, she began to trace a word in the dirt and grime, pulling back for him to see what she had written, Éomer studied it, the crude writing taking a moment to register the word within his mind.
"Why" he read aloud, frowning. "Why… what?"
Aedre hesitated again and once again gestured speaking and pointed to him.
"Why am I saying these words to you?"
Slowly she nodded, her eyes, he noticed were full of a fearful curiosity. Éomer looked down, searching for an answer but finding his tongue felt dry, when he again looked at her his eyes held a look of annoyance.
"Why did you not fight against me?" He studied her gaze as she digested his words. "If I had not pulled away I feel you would have let me," he paused again waiting for his words to reach her, "even though you did not wish it."
Aedre gave a strange wry smile as if he had asked something childish but as his expression did not change she realized he was asking her in earnest, her smile fell away and she frowned, shaking her head slightly. She brought her hands together as if they were bound and then raised them above her head. Slowly, uncomfortable with his full attention upon her, she lowered her hands back down and placed her hands on her forearms, tracing more thin scars, her eyes again rested upon his, her expression asking if he understood.
It took Éomer a moment to understand her full meaning, his mouth fell a little agape. "You thought if you fought you would be punished?"
Her brow furrowed not quite understanding his words.
"You feared you would be hurt?"
She gave a slow but certain nod.
He hesitated, "Did the Orcs hurt you if you fought, if they tried to…" He trailed off, the mere thought of what he was trying to form into words made his heart heavy and anger stir within his blood. "Did they…" He suddenly found his throat parched, "Did they hurt you if you refused, to do what I nearly… at the feast?" He found his words failed him.
Aedre looked in confusion at him, through her eyes he could see her thoughts processing, trying to make sense of his muddled words. Finally she nodded; curling her hand into a fist she mimed a punch softly to her cheek.
Éomer closed his eyes at her answer suddenly feeling such a wave of pity, a feeling of such regret that it near overcame him.
"I am… sorry" he said in a low voice.
Aedre furrowed her brow but remained still.
He finally re-opened his eyes and looked at her, his gaze studying her face. With a deliberate ease he softly placed his palm to her cheek, she flinched, her eyes widening slightly.
"I will never hurt you" he said slowly, clearly. Her eyes flicked to each of his as she tried to discern his meaning. "No one shall hurt you again little Aedre."
Aedre shook her head slowly her blank look again stating she did not fully understand the words he spoke.
---
Éomer sat leisurely upon his bed, the furs pulled lightly over him to ward off the late evening chill. He yawned and pushed himself up and onto his feet, leaving the warmth of the covers. He walked to the shutters that were latched snugly against the winter winds, with a small smile he lifted the latch and opened the shutters wide, outside the sky was already black, the clouds hiding all stars from sight. Large snowflakes fluttered ethereally down to the ground, sticking and creating a blanket of crisp whiteness across all of Edoras and the plains beyond. The whole city seemed to be encased in silence, no sound of wind reached his hearing though he could feel its cool caress. He began to hum an old lullaby, a song near forgotten from his youth, the hum forming into low, mumbled words only half remembered.
A voiceless song in an ageless light
Sings at the coming dawn
Where the heart moves the stones
There that my heart is longing for
All for the love of you
Your eyes declare a truce of trust
Then it draws me far away
Your lamps will call me home
And so it's there that my homage's due
Clutch-ed by the still of the night
Now I feel, feel you move
And every breath, breath is full
Even the distance feels so near
All for the love of you
The words flowed from him, bringing back warm, mislaid memories of his mother's sweet voice straining slightly at the highest notes as she mended clothing, prepared food for himself and Éowyn, of the blurred remembrance of the story behind the song, about an Elven man's love for a mortal woman he could never live his life with.
The last word fell harshly from him as he became aware that his eyes were straining with tears, the unexpected memory shocking him into sorrow. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and returned his gaze back to the beautiful sight of the snow falling, but still the sorrow clutched heavily at his heart. His family had died before his eyes it seemed, one by one, and now he and his sister were the only remains, she gone far over the plains to Gondor… for the first time in his twenty nine years Éomer felt truly alone.
"My lord?"
Éomer turned at the unexpected voice.
"Are you well?" Sunniva asked, her brow creased in worry.
"Yes Sunniva, I am well." He paused, "You know I dislike the winter fall." He gestured distractedly to the window.
"Then why open your shutters?" she scolded, "It will do naught but bring misery to the heart."
"Sometimes it is good to remember."
"That is true, but not in the dark nights of winter where regret waits for unwary thoughts." She ushered him aside and closed the shutters. She turned back to him, seeing the melancholy etching itself upon his face. "Winter always did make your thoughts dark" she commented, busying herself with stoking up the fire with an iron poker.
"It's when mother passed, the first winter fall."
Sunniva nodded, "I remember too well" she said softly.
"I have never felt such bleakness Sunniva; perhaps it is because Éowyn is so far that the remorse feels so near, last winter fall I was too occupied with being King, now many things seem to weigh heavily upon me."
"It will pass" Sunniva said, placing a hand tenderly upon his shoulder, "It will pass my boy." He placed a hand over hers. "Do not doubt how much your mother and father would take honor in you and all you have done for your lands, you will be a great king, Éomer" she said, using his rarely uttered name, the familiarity of its use voiced only in times of privacy and need.
"I fear I do not know how to serve my people well, a warrior is not a king - ask me to go into battle, to lay down my life… I can do all of these things willingly, but ask me to sit inside a hall of kings and govern my people…" He paused, "I fear I will fail."
"Come now" she said with a warm smile, "Such talk is not fit for such a bleak night; you shall soon see your words have no merit." She squeezed his hand before releasing it. "Your worries will all be for naught and you will feel foolish Éomer King, warrior and king are one - you cannot be king without being a great warrior and you are the most prized warrior in all Rohan." She gave him a playful push and a smile slowly formed itself upon his lips. "It is these dark days and no more."
Éomer nodded, "Your words are wise as they always are Sunniva, perhaps I should make you my adviser." He gave a low chuckle and Sunniva joined him.
"Yes, that would cause quite a stir." She grinned, seeing his mood was lifting slightly. "Come, sit back under your covers, I shall send for some of our Melomel from the stores, perhaps the Cyser - it always used to be your favorite."
Éomer grinned in surprise "I thought we had none left these last years!"
"We have a small amount, one of the girls found it while cleaning out the old Mead." She smiled again before making for the door.
"Send Aedre with it Sunniva."
Sunniva gave a glance over her shoulder before giving him a knowing smile and a firm nod.
---
A/N
Lyrics used by Loreena McKennitt.
