Here is Chapter 8!
Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR in the least, nor any book dialogue contained in this chapter; I only own the characters I made up, like Derimir. Henceforth ALL LYRICS AND POETRY USED BELONG TO AND WERE WRITTEN BY ME. I put this in caps because Fanfiction is now paranoid about posting things you didn't write.
Chapter 8: The Heir of Rohan
What's fated to be somehow will find a way
No matter if the road seems ever so broken
Or the shadows ever so deep
If we change because of faithless warnings
Then regret is all we'll ever feel.
Éomer sat at the king's board in the great house, along with Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. Éowyn was there as well, serving food and drink, and Éomer noticed with a grin how her eyes kept darting discreetly over to Aragorn, who sat on Éomer's left. Théoden sat on his right. Gandalf, in turn, sat to Théoden's right, and the two companions of Aragorn were beside the ranger. In the events that had followed the renewal of Théoden, such things had occurred as the exile
At the moment, conversation concerned the treachery of Saruman and Wormtongue, and was occurring primarily between Théoden and Gandalf. Éomer found his mind drifting at times. His thoughts were busy, with wonder and excitement, so that he simply could not concentrate on the discussion. He would occasionally pay attention at times when Théoden said such things as "I owe much to Éomer; Faithful heart may have forward tongue." He did, however, have the opportunity to converse much with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.
"It felt wonderful to finally rid this hall of Wormtongue's betrayal," Éomer said to those beside him, regarding them with grateful eyes. "You do not know what joy you have brought me. I knew after meeting you that you would help bring redemption to Edoras."
Gimli raised an eyebrow. "That we would, or that Aragorn would? I seem to recall a death threat."
Éomer could only smile sheepishly. "For that, I apologize, my friend. Though Legolas was quick enough to defend you."
"I would do so without hesitation for any of my friends," said the elf.
"And that is a valuable friend to have," Aragorn said in response, to which Éomer nodded his agreement.
At that point, their conversation stopped, for Théoden turned from his private conversation and addressed all of his guests. He had just granted Gandalf a kingly gift in giving him Shadowfax, lord of the horses. Now he made the offer to the others. "And to you my other guests I will offer such things as may be found in my armory. Swords you do not need, but there are helms and coats of mail of cunning work, gifts to my fathers out of Gondor. Choose from these ere we go, and may they serve you well!" The king's expression was warm and hospitable as he called forth men to bring some of the objects out of the armory.
As Éomer stood with his three friends looking over the armor, hismemories drifted back to all those times that he had polished and fixed the weapons and attire. He felt a certain pride at seeing Aragorn and Legolas arrayed in the mail of Rohan and Gondor. How the helms and mail gleamed, with their inlaid gems and refracting colors! It made for a regal display. Gimli took only an iron and leather cap while Gandalf was content with the gift of Shadowfax. Gimli's cap was one which had belonged to the king himself, and the other went back to the tables as the dwarf and the king conversed lightly about it. Théoden joined them a short while after and accepted a goblet of wine from Éowyn.
"Ferthu Théoden hál!" said the king's niece, bearing the wine with a joyous gleam in her eye. "Receive now this cup and drink in happy hour. Health be with thee at thy going and coming."
Wine was then passed to the guest, but Éowyn lingered by Aragorn, and she handed him the cup with hands that trembled slightly. "Hail Aragorn son of Arathorn!" she said, smiling.
"Hail Lady of Rohan!" Aragorn replied with a neutral expression.
She fancies him, Éomer thought with a grin. He wondered fleetingly if Aragorn had a woman. He supposed such a man must have a lover...if not, perhaps his sister would find herself a fine suitor.
I wonder when it is that I will find love, Éomer wondered. Then he thought back on all those family members and friends that he had lost. In the past, my fiercest love has led to my fiercest pain.
As all reflected on earlier conversation, the intense situation of danger regarding Saruman's offensive against the Mark was made evident. The Riders of Rohan would have to leave...and it was probable that most of the people would leave as well. Edoras was no longer safe. Even in the joy of the day, the threat was a damper on high spirits, and lingered in the air, creating a atmosphere that bordered between apprehension and celebration. It soon began to tilt more towards the first as Théoden openly addressed the subject. It happened after the drink and festivities had pretty much ceased. Théoden walked forth to the doors of the hall, where a crowd had gathered, common people among lords and heralds.
It was in the words that followed that Éomer's life changed in his mentality.
"Behold!" Théoden said, his voice clear and ringing. "I go forth, and it seems like to be my last riding. I have no child. Théodred my son is slain. I name Éomer my sister-son to be my heir."
All eyes turned to Éomer, who stood at the king's side. It was but a single sentence in a speech that seemed to be an obvious decision and held little important to those in attendance...but it was so much more to the one to whom it was directed. Théoden gave his nephew the slightest glance and the hint of a smile.
I am the heir of Rohan, Éomer thought to himself, unsure of what to feel as so many emotions threatened to overcome him. He looked out at the crowds. Everything seemed to change perspective; no longer were these simply his kinsmen, his fellow citizens of Rohan whom he had sworn to protect. They were the people he would one day rule. In a millisecond, everything had changed. Abrupt change...the story of my life, he thought. He felt the eyes of those behind him. Éowyn laid a gentle hand on her brother's shoulder and gave him a fair smile.
"If neither of us return, then choose a new lord as you will," Théoden continued. "But to someone I must now entrust my people that I leave behind, to rule them in my place. Which of you will stay?"
A silence followed Théoden's words, and the men in high positions exchanged glances, wondering to whom leadership would fall. The king turned to the lords.
"Is there none whom you would name? In whom do my people trust?"
Unexpectedly, Háma stepped forward. He spoke rather quietly. "In the House of Eorl."
Théoden looked slightly confused. "But Éomer I cannot spare, nor would he stay." After all this time, he still knows me well, Éomer thought as his uncle continued. "And he is the last of that House."
Háma turned rather to Éowyn, smiling warmly. "I said not Éomer, and he is not the last. There is Éowyn, daughter of Éomund, his sister. She is fearless and high-hearted. All love her. Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone."
Théoden seemed content with the idea. Éomer felt Éowyn's grip on his shoulder tighten, and he laid a gentle hand over hers. This is what she wants, he thought. To have power and influence rather than to simply serve men. Yet...is it? Something about Éowyn's expression when he turned to her revealed something else. A moment later Éomer realized what it was.
She wants to come with us. She wants to fight.
He thought back on all the times he had practiced with her, and her natural talent with a sword. She is an excellent fighter...
"It shall be so," Théoden said, seating himself before the doors as he looked to his niece. "Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Éowyn will lead them!"
Éowyn knelt before the king as many eyes bore down on her. Théoden gave to her a sword and corslet. Éomer watched as his sister unsheathed the blade the slightest bit, looking over the steel as it glinted in the sun. He thought he saw a faint smile on her lips.
"Farewell sister-daughter!" said Théoden as he looked down at Éowyn. Then he turned his gaze upward and looked over the people of Edoras who had gathered there. "Dark is the hour, yet maybe we shall return to the Golden Hall. But in Dunharrow the people may long defend themselves, and if the battle go ill, thither will come all who escape."
Éowyn looked suddenly distressed, and lifted her bowed head. "Speak not so! A year shall I endure for every day that passes until your return."
Aragorn stepped forward, and Éowyn's eyes drifted over to him. "The king shall come again. Fear not! Not West but East does our doom await us."
Éomer sensed a double meaning. As the gathered lords and heralds and chiefs turned and began to go once again into the Golden Hall as Théoden had proposed, his gaze lingered on the heir of Isildur, whose expression was impossible to read as he walked over to where Legolas and Gimli stood, exchanging a few quiet words with them that Éomer couldn't hear.
He saw, upon descending the stair, that Éowyn stood alone before the huge double doors at the entrance. He hesitated, and then decided to stay back a moment. Aragorn glanced at him but continued on with Gimli and Legolas. Soon, the merry voices died down, and all Éomer could hear were the sounds of his footfalls as he went to stand beside Éowyn.
"Today has been a day for change," he said quietly.
She gave a small smile. "It has been a day of kings. I congratulate you, my brother. One day it is you who will rule Rohan and see to its prosperity."
They were silent for a few moments as walked out the doors and stared out at the horizon. Éomer knew that his sister had mixed feelings—she was overwhelmed by her sudden attraction to Aragorn, and yet excited by it. Éowyn had always been drawn to solitude due to those that misunderstood her. Éomer draped an affectionate arm about her shoulders.
"When we leave," he said. "It is you who will be as ruler here. I know that you can keep our people safe."
She sighed deeply, never removing her eyes from the sky and landscape before her. "It is an honor, indeed, to be able to have some part in the well-being of Rohan; that I might have some part in this while the men go to fight."
"You will have your chance," he said without hesitation. Even if the opportunity to fight was not placed before her, Éomer knew that she would find a way to eventually be part of battle. And, at times, when the fighting was going ill, he knew that her excellent sword-arm could be of great use.
Éowyn said nothing in return.
The muster did not take long. For years the army had trained and prepared for battle such as this, so they were ready only minutes after being summoned; their drive was all the greater, for hearing the voice of the king commanding them served as an inspiration. Thousands of men there were. They were mounted already on the saddles of their horses, holding their heads high and their spears upright with pride. Éomer could not help but smile at their readiness to serve as he swung a saddle over his stallion, Firefoot's, bare back.
A little ways away, he saw Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli beginning to ready the two horses that belonged to them, and decided to go over and converse with them some moments before the departure. Gandalf stood apart from them as he spoke to some of the Rohirrim. Éomer noted how uncomfortable Gimli looked, and led his own horse over to where they stood.
"Hail, Gimli Glóin's son!" he said with a welcoming smile. Before all this started, he needed to make amends with the dwarf concerning his harsh words towards the Lady Galadriel. "I have not had time to learn gentle speech under your rod, as you promised. But shall we not put aside our quarrel? At least I will speak no evil again of the Lady of the Wood."
"I will forget my wrath for awhile, Éomer son of Éomund," the dwarf said, some of the fear of riding subsiding from his eyes as he concentrated on conversation. "But if ever you chance to see the lady Galadriel with your eyes, then you shall acknowledge her the fairest of ladies, or our friendship will end."
Éomer consented with a laugh. "So be it! But until that time pardon me, and in token of pardon ride with me, I beg. Gandalf will be at the head with the Lord of the Mark, but Firefoot, my horse, will bear us both, if you will."
Gimli was pleased by this, and Éomer pulled the dwarf up to sit behind him. Gimli's only request was that Legolas ride at their side.
Éomer wanted nothing more than to have his new found friends by him as they started out on a new journey. "It shall be so! Legolas upon my left, and Aragorn upon my right, and none will dare to stand before us!"
Then Gandalf came over, inquiring as to the whereabouts of Shadowfax. Éomer watched as his men told the wizard that the creature ran free over the plains and was astonished when Shadowfax came at Gandalf's whistle. His white mane was pure in the sunlight, and he sped toward the assembled Rohirrim with a speed that few horses could match.
"Were the breath of the West Wind to take a body visible, even so would it appear," Éomer whispered to himself.
Théoden then make the announcement public that he was giving Shadowfax to Gandalf as a gift, and named the wizard a lord of the Mark and chieftain of Eorlingas. A great cheer rose up. Gandalf spoke his thanks, then cast aside the grey hat and garments that he wore to reveal white robes that matched his rare stallion. He mounted Shadowfax and they were as one.
Who is this, but one of the Valar themselves, come to Middle-Earth to lead us forth to salvation?
Éomer was in awe and did not even realize that a smile reflecting that wonder was upon his face. In his heart he felt more joy than he had ever thought possible. For all of this to happen in a single day...his dear uncle's redemption, his freedom from imprisonment, the muster of the Rohirrim...
Théoden cast a look back at his nephew, a private, loving look that only father and son could understand. For that moment there was no one else in the world. He has truly returned to us...
And Éomer felt inside of him the same determination and inspiration that he could see in the eyes of the Riders of Rohan.
Aragorn gestured to Gandalf. "Behold the White Rider!" he cried out.
Thousands of voices rose in unison. "The White Rider! Our King and the White Rider!"
Éomer took up the call, letting himself become one in the exhilaration, in the motivation. "Forth Eorlingas!" And their many spears and swords were thrust forward in the air as inflection to the words. Up above, the trumpets sounded, drowning out the sounds of the war cries. Even the horses were caught in the moment—in an unusual unity with their riders, they reared, neighing and tossing their manes in the wind.
Théoden raised his sword arm, and all gazed upon the king's blade for half a moment, before spurring their horses forward; a host so great that the ground trembled beneath them and the wind changed its course.
Éomer looked back, and glimpsed one last time at Éowyn; she stood alone before the doors as the leader of Rohan. He vowed that he would survive this battle and return to her.
Voice in darkness reaches out to answer Destiny's Call...
This was his destiny. Éomer felt the bursts of wind rushing past him, sweeping him along with the crowd, and could hear nothing but thundering hoof beats that resonated for miles on end. He was a Rider of Rohan, the Heir of Rohan.
And at the moment, there was nothing more in the world he would have wished for.
Sorry for the late update! Really hope everyone liked this chapter.
Coming Soon: Éomer stands as part of the defense at Helm's Deep. Yet with the casualties and intensity of the war, will his own morale fall? Éomer must learn to accept loss once more as many of the Rohirrim are taken by death, and overcome trepidation so that his sword can ring true in defense of the Mark.
This chapter was shorter. Optimistically thinking...maybe you guys will have liked it and found it interesting:)
As usual, please R & R, and Happy Fourth of July to all Americans!
Oh, and I'm no longer allowed to do review replies. :(