Disclaimer: The characters, events and places you recognize are copyright to J.R.R. Tolkien, his estate and heirs, Peter Jackson, New Line Cinema, and their licensees. Any characters, events or places you don't recognize are my own creation and copyrighted to me except as noted in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter.
Thanks again to Rhyselle for the beta-reading and the patience to brainstorm with me over Ims for hours.
A Hidden Hope – Chapter Four
By Dancingkatz
Late February T.A. 3019 - Edoras - Theodred's Bedroom
Eowyn had spent nearly four days tending to her cousin, leaving the bedroom only long enough to take care of her personal needs, grab a bite of whatever was on the kitchen fire, and to give her daily duty and greeting to her uncle, who seemed to be completely unaware that she was kneeling before him.
She shared with no one her carefully harboured hope that Theodred would survive this. He was aware of her more often, though he seemed to grow no stronger.
Any other woman would sit and sew while sitting vigil with an injured and possibly dying man, but Eowyn was no seamstress. Instead she sent for water and other supplies and began cleaning Theodred's armor.
She had shoved the armor along with the saddlebags that had been removed from Brego into the corner of the room after she stripped it from him and the blood and other accumulated detritus had dried onto the ornately decorated leather and metal. But before she started on the armor itself she extricated the padded gambeson that he wore beneath it from the pile. It really wasn't in any condition to be worth repairing, but sometimes warriors kept good luck charms or a medal or other personal effects sewn into the padding. Generally, whatever it was would be placed so that when the gambeson was worn the special object would be over the warrior's heart. She didn't know if Theodred had put anything in his gambeson, but she wanted to check before sending the garment to be cleaned.
There. A slit had been cut into the lining and re-sewn with red thread. Taking her knife, Eowyn carefully cut the stitches and pulled them free. When she slipped her hand inside she was surprised to feel not the carved wood of a good luck charm or the cool metal of a medallion but the soft slickness of silk and the gently rough texture of embroidery. She pulled the item out and stared in wonder at what could only be a favour from his lady.
The green silk was edged in gold bullion and the white horse of the Mark was couched in tiny seed pearls below an intricate knot-work design. The knot-work design was made of strands of golden hair and anchored with pearls and gold thread. Further knot-work in coloured silks made a border around the entire piece. His princess had obviously spent many long hours making the love token.
She carefully folded the favour and slipped it into the pocket of her skirt before setting the gambeson aside and rising to check on Theodred's condition.
He was asleep and it seemed to her that his color had improved. Before turning back to the armor Eowyn tucked the favour inside the neck of his nightshirt to lie over his heart. She blinked back tears, this time for herself, rather than him. Lucky Theodred, to find someone to love him so much…
March T.A. 3018 - Helm's Deep
Edlyn rolled her eyes as she saw Deor and Ceorlaf heading towards the mares' barn. Over the past few weeks they'd been making nuisances of themselves, showing up at odd times during the day with lame excuses for their appearance on the scene. At least she'd had a respite when they went out on patrol the previous week but now that they'd returned they were more annoying than ever.
She turned her back on them and continued working with Léohtstyrr. The foals were nearly six weeks old and had already outgrown the phase of eat-sleep-eat to the beginnings of eat-play-eat-sleep—with play beginning to be the most dominant behaviour. She was introducing the filly to a head collar and lead. The training wasn't difficult but time consuming, especially with Æðeltungol coming alongside his sister, curious about this new game. Their mother was involved, too. As Edlyn clipped the lead rope onto the head collar and began walking towards the mare, she whistled for Idesgrǽg to walk forwards.
Gradually, the filly got the idea that if she walked alongside Edlyn she could still follow her mother and the leather straps of the head collar wouldn't press against her nose or jaw. Edlyn made sure to praise her and took off the head collar before Léohtstyrr got tired. After a delicious scratch behind the ears the filly was more than happy to have a bit of lunch and a nap in the early spring sunshine. Then Edlyn turned to Æðeltungol.
"Well, my handsome one, did you see what you have to do?"
It appeared that the black colt had, because he took to the head collar as if he'd been born with it on. Æðeltungol happily accepted the scratch behind his ears and when she removed the head collar, nuzzled her hand before joining his sister in a nap.
"Planning to take over from old Jahric, sister?" Deor called from where he leaned on the paddock fence, referring to the keep's oldest horse trainer, who was nearly crippled from arthritis and old age.
"No, she's angling for different position entirely," Ceorlaf interjected with a smirk.
Edlyn glared at her brothers as their banter grew coarser. Spotting the bucket of dirty water from where she'd groomed Idesgrǽg earlier, she picked it up and hurled the contents at them before storming off.
Ceorlaf and Deor took exception to getting drenched and started after her, threatening revenge. However, they were each seized by the collar and their heads were bashed together before they got more than a few yards from the paddock. Stunned, they looked up from the ground where they'd been dropped to see a very angry Second Marshal standing over them.
"I find it difficult to believe that your father permits you to speak that way to any woman, much less your sister. As it is obvious that you have no concern for her reputation, I shall have no concern for yours. Report to the stable master. You have middens duty for the next month. Go!"
When they sprawled there gawking in surprise and dismay, Theodred told one of the Riders who had been standing nearby. "Assist them on their way, Bréowine."
"Gladly, your highness." Bréowine hauled the two brothers to their feet and shoved them towards the stable master's quarters. "Get on, you! Or would you prefer to be urged on by the flat of my sword?"
Theodred turned to the waiting Riders and gave his orders concerning the disposition of the evening watch before striding off in the direction Edlyn had taken. He hadn't missed the stricken look on her face when she realized that he was standing behind her brothers.
It was approaching sunset when he located her. She was sitting in one of the embrasures of the curtain wall and it was only the light of the setting sun glinting off her hair that allowed him to spot her. Knowing where she was, he returned to the keep to have some words with his men and to get some food and drink to take to her.
He was still furious at her brothers and he was likely sharper than he had intended when he informed his men that disrespect of women would not be tolerated. He knew that in Minas Tirith and likely many other places Rohan was believed to be a place where the horses were better respected and treated than the women and children. It was a reputation he was ashamed of and if he couldn't change the root behaviours that had led to it in his own keep, he didn't deserve to lead it. The rumor mill having done its work, every man in the meadhall knew that Erkenbrand's sons were in disgrace and that similar actions or words would land them hip deep in the middens beside them. His point made, Theodred left the hall.
After stopping by the kitchens, he walked back to the curtain wall and found that Edlyn hadn't moved from the embrasure. Night had fallen but the moon shone full over the pastures before the wall and gate. Theodred made certain she could hear him approach. It was a long fall to the ground from the embrasure she'd chosen and he didn't want to surprise her into losing her balance.
She didn't look at his face but took the hand he offered and let him help her down to the paved walkway behind the rampart. She was shivering and he dropped his cloak over her shoulders. She pulled the green and gold wool close as the breeze freshened. "Thank you."
Theodred spread out the contents of the bundle he'd carried under his arm on the pavement. "Sit down and eat."
Edlyn paused for a moment before doing so. She looked tired and upset and thoroughly miserable. He handed her a cup of mead, having poured it from the skin he'd liberated on his way out of the kitchen pantry. She took it in a trembling hand, started to raise it to her lips and suddenly sat it down as tears spilled from already reddened eyes.
"I-I-I shouldn't…Deor and Ceorlaf were…"
"Wrong." Theodred had intended on making sure she ate and then escort her to her quarters but her renewed tears changed his plans in an instant. He gathered her into his arms and crooned reassurances as she cried. "They treated you despicably and will be paying for it by spending the next month up to their hips in ordure. Hush, you've done nothing untoward. I truly appreciate the work you are doing with Idesgrǽg's foals. I would do it myself if it weren't necessary to be out on patrol so much. I don't want them running completely wild. I have plans for those two and they'll need to be used to being handled."
He was patience itself and gradually he got her to eat. Once the food was finished they sat, their backs to the rampart and watched the moonlight dripping silver on the sides of the mountains that backed the Coomb as Theodred talked about the other foals that had been born in the weeks immediately after the First-born had arrived. "I noticed that Léoma, finally dropped her foal, I think she's the last of this year's crop."
"No, your highness," Edlyn told him, her voice soft and her head leaning upon his shoulder. "Æblǽcan hasn't foaled yet. Don't you remember? She got out of the barn and Brego caught her late in the season."
"Ah, I had forgotten. I dread the thought of what any foal of Brego's will be like." Theodred looked down at the golden head on his shoulder and couldn't help giving in to the urge to drop a gentle kiss upon it. "Edlyn, could you not find it in your heart to call me Theodred?"
She was silent and he thought that she might have fallen asleep, but then he heard her whisper, "Yes, Theodred."
The two words washed over him like a benediction and a part of his heart that had long been closed tightly opened up like a flower to the sun. He stayed there in spite of the cold stone and wind, reveling in the knowledge that this woman was the one Bema meant him to have as wife, until he knew she was soundly asleep. Then he picked her up and carried her, still wrapped in his cloak to her family's quarters.
Erkenbrand was awake and smoking by the fire when Theodred carried Edlyn into the apartments. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of his daughter asleep in Theodred's arms but only said, "I couldn't help but hear about this afternoon's events. You should have made it two months instead of just one. I told Deor and Ceorlaf they could sleep in the barracks—if they were allowed in by the other men—otherwise they could find a sty to sleep in."
The older man rose to his feet and led the way to one of the doorways off the main room. "Go ahead and put her down here," he said, gesturing towards the bed that stood against the far wall. Theodred laid her down, still wrapped in his Rider's Cloak, gently touched her hair, and turned to see Erkenbrand's frown.
"I know the significance of a woman spending the night wrapped in a Rider's cloak, Erkenbrand. I'll wait until she knows her heart before speaking to her or letting my father know, but I intend that Edlyn will be my wife." Theo's voice was soft but his conviction was unmistakable.
Erkenbrand looked down on his sleeping daughter, who reminded him so much of his late wife, the golden strands of her hair not any less bright in the lamplight than the gold embroidery that decorated the edges of Theodred's cloak. In a voice made rough by memory he told his prince, "There is no other man living that I should better like her to wed."
Author's Note: The significance of a woman spending the night in a Rider's cloak is borrowed from ZeesMuse with permission. It appears in her wonderful story, "Rider of the Mark." If an unmarried woman spends a night wrapped in a Rider's cloak she is bound to wed him. In my story it is an old tradition and seldom followed, but when it is, it is considered to be quite romantic.
Glossary:
Æblǽcan: variation on Old English for "pale" - pronounced (roughly) ahb-lay-kan
Léoma: Old English for "ray of light" - pronounced (roughly) lay-oh-ma
Idesgrǽg: Old English for "lady-grey" - pronounced (roughly) ee-des-grayh
Æðeltungol: Old English for "noble star" - pronounced (roughly) ay-thel-tuhn-goal
Léohtstyrr: Old English for "bright-star" - pronounced (roughly) lay-oat-stir
Gyldenides: Old English for "golden-lady" - pronounced (roughly) gill-din-ee-des