Spoils of War
Chapter 8
The inclement weather kept even Eowyn and Faramir indoors, and Eomer was visited by his sister during a break between meetings. "How does it go?" she asked, settling in a chair across the desk from him. "Will trade be possible?
He leaned back and gave her a shrug. "Perhaps, eventually. Much of what they want to offer is not something we have great need of at the moment. Once we are better recovered, I am sure our people will enjoy more variety in their choices. For now, I am mostly concerned with finding traders of the necessities that we need, and finding something that we have which will prove acceptable to them in exchange." He paused in thought and then added, "I am thinking that if the Dimholt proves useful for travel, we might be able to get things to the Westfold more quickly than bringing them from Minas Tirith. From what Aragorn told me, the pass through the mountain should be wide enough for wagon loads. The difficulty is the switchback road leading up the mountain from our side. It will not tolerate very large wagons, so that may limit the size of anything brought in that way."
Eowyn nodded her understanding, then asked, "Are they interested in the wool we can offer? Until we rebuild our herds, horses are not our best trade, though we could bring stallions to Gondor and charge a fee for them to breed their mares."
"I had thought of that. There is considerable interest in the breeding, if they cannot merely buy the horses, though a trained animal will bring much more money. And, yes, they were interested in the wool, though moreso in Minas Tirith than here in the south where it does not get so cold," Eomer explained.
Eowyn shoved to her feet and smiled at him. "Good luck with all of this. Do let me know if I can be of any help to you. And do make time to enjoy being here. The work cannot be ignored, but you could use some rest and entertainment!"
He snickered at her. "Though I notice you are never around to see that I get it! I assume Faramir is well? I have seen little of either of you, except at meals and not always then!"
She turned toward the door, laughing over her shoulder at him. "Faramir is very well, and you will continue to see very little of us – we are, after all, on our honeymoon."
"That should have ended months ago!" he called after her as she disappeared out the door.
He could see a servant approaching with the next tradesman, and he settled back into a more serious demeanor, but he was grateful for the interlude Eowyn had provided him.
xxx
Eventually, the summer storm did pass entirely, and by the next day the sun had returned to warm the shores once again. Having spent the morning in meetings with tradesmen, Eomer was ready to be outside in the fresh air and sunshine.
He strolled onto the balcony of the library, working his shoulders to ease the tenseness there. It was not long before Imrahil appeared, greeting the king as he came to stand beside him. After several minutes of companionable silence, the prince ventured, "Eomer, you have been very quiet since arriving here. Does something trouble you? Are the trade negotiations not going well? I am happy to offer my assistance in any way that you desire."
Eomer looked down at his hands grasping the railing, a wry smile twisting his mouth. Should he tell his friend that his troubled spirit was not the result of trade relations, but rather Eomer's relations with women, and in particular the prince's own daughter? He thought that unwise. Imrahil clearly had never learned of Eomer's botched marriage proposal and he preferred that it remain so. He could only think on it now with embarrassment; that would be greatly increased were others to know of his foolhardy behavior. And, truthfully, he did not think there was any advice that Imrahil could offer, regarding his own daughter or as pertained to Eomer's grandmother. No, he would have to work things out on his own.
"You are kind to offer," he finally responded, "but I do not believe there is any help you may give. I just have a great deal on my mind and must determine how I wish to proceed." He straightened and gave his friend a reassuring smile. "You are merely to blame for providing so peaceful a spot and so much free time for me to give free rein to my thoughts!"
Imrahil chuckled at the remark, though he wished it had revealed his friend more accepting of guidance. But, he knew the Rohirrim well after all these months, so the young man's attitude did not surprise him. Eventually Eomer might seek Imrahil's counsel, as he had done on several previous occasions, but it would be done in his own time and way. Until then, the prince could only make sure the king felt comfortable coming to him when that moment arrived.
Clapping Eomer on the shoulder, he reiterated, "Well, I am happy to help. Know that, and if matters change, please do not hesitate to make use of me." He moved away and Eomer watched his course through the library and out into the hall.
After several minutes of idleness, he shoved himself away from the railing and headed inside himself. Passing through the house, he had no fixed purpose in mind, but sunshine definitely figured in there somewhere. His feet found their way to a garden he had visited more than once while in Dol Amroth.
He had no particular thoughts as he entered the garden, but the sight of it reminded him of the garden at Meduseld. And that thought inevitably made him think of his grandmother…and Lothiriel. His mouth twisted in grim amusement – he was supposed to be a good king to the Mark when he could not even adequately manage his own life?
While his thoughts meandered, so did his feet, and he arrived at a bench situated beneath a shade tree. Settling on it, he smiled at the magnificent view it afforded of the harbor. Certainly the people of Dol Amroth knew how to focus on the picturesque. Any time he had come upon incredible scenery – and there was much of it here – there always seemed to be an accommodating bench nearby where one could sit and enjoy their surroundings.
There was a branch that had broken loose and fallen from the tree. It was resting partly against the end of the bench, and he reached for it. Though he had not had any purpose for doing so, once it was in his hands, he automatically fished out his knife and made some small, careful cuts to the wood. It had been a very long while since he had indulged in this amusement, but his fingers still remembered what they needed to do, even if the knife was not especially suited to the task. Settling back, he idly worked on it, with occasional glances up at the ocean.
"Theodred was very good at carving wood," Morwen said quietly, eyeing the branch he was working on. He had been so absorbed by the view and his work that he had not noticed her approach – something very rare for him.
Without looking up, Eomer paused, rubbing his thumb thoughtfully along the length of the wood. After a moment, he replied, "I know. He is the one who taught me, when I came to live at Meduseld. I think he understood it would help me grieve if I had something to focus on outside of myself."
She shuffled over and seated herself nearby. "Dear Theodred. How I miss him, even now."
Turning his head to look at her, Eomer said, "He always spoke most warmly of you. Not in front of Eowyn – it upset her – but he often mentioned you to me as it did not seem to bother me so much to listen."
"Did not seem to bother you…even though it did?" Morwen asked.
Eomer looked away from her perceptive eyes, then gave a shrug before nodding acknowledgement.
When he fell silent, Morwen remarked, "I would have thought your father would have been the one to teach you wood carving. Eomund was quite talented also, though he had little time for it."
"No," Eomer sighed, ducking his head, "no, he did not teach me. He said that he would, but somehow he never found the time."
Morwen nodded in understanding. "I suppose that is not so unexpected. Your father had seen the increasing destruction caused by orcs, and lost many friends and comrades to the battle. He became near obsessed with removing the blight from our lands, whatever the cost. But I do not think he ever truly believed that the cost would be his life. He always expected to return home to Theodwyn and you children at the end of the day. In that, he clearly miscalculated."
Looking back at her, Eomer quietly questioned, "Why did you leave the Mark? I would truly wish to know."
Sensing the truth in his words, she nodded again. "Yes, and you should." For several minutes she was silent, considering what to say, then began, "I never intended to leave for good, but then much in life does not turn out as we expect. Within a span of years equal to your life, I lost a great many people who were most dear to me. First my birth family – both my parents, my brother and his wife – and then many members of my own family. Elfhild, Thengel and two of my daughters were taken, so when Ethelwyn fell ill I hastened to Lossarnach to care for her, and eventually her child, as it turned out. When they also died, I had not the heart to go anywhere or do anything. My home in Lossarnach is the same house where my family first lived upon settling in those vales, and it gave me some comfort that nothing else did. Before I recovered from those sorrows, Eomund and Theodwyn were snatched away and I simply could not face going back. When I came to tend Ethelwyn, I fully expected to one day return to the Mark and live out my days there, but…it did not happen. Now it simply seems too late to uproot myself for what little time I may have left. Having lost Theoden and Theodred just recently, I found when I was there for the funeral that Meduseld no longer felt very much like home to me. Other than you and Eowyn, no one I once loved was there, though I heard the whispers of their voices in the halls. It was almost more than I could bear."
"You…hid it well," Eomer responded with a husky voice after regaining control of himself. "I never suspected the toll it was taking."
She eyed him closely. "None did, except for Lothiriel. She is quite insightful. I suspect that is part of the reason she was so eager to restore the garden – in hopes it would cheer me some for the duration of our stay."
Eomer nodded but did not comment. It would seem he had underestimated Lothiriel, in more ways than one. This was just further evidence to feed his regret.
"Did it help?" he finally asked, not wanting to dwell on his thoughts.
"Perhaps, a little. I think, in many ways, it was good to go back, for it gave me the chance to say the farewell that I never truly did the first time I departed. And seeing the garden regaining its beauty gave me hope for the Mark, hope beyond its new king." When his mouth twisted with rue at her words, she amended, "I do not mean to suggest that I think you will fail as king, Eomer. I just saw with my own eyes how very much ground you need to cross in the recovery. I was pleased to see the regard the Eorlingas have for you, and I am confident you will rule well and wisely. The garden…it simply helped me to believe the challenges you faced were not insurmountable."
"Thank you," Eomer told her quietly, surprised by the vote of confidence in him. "I will do my best."
"You will do fine," she assured him. "As I have come to know you, I see that you inherited the best qualities from both your parents. Eomund's impulsiveness is tempered by Theodwyn's practicality. You are proud and stubborn, yes, but then most Eorlingas are – but you are willing to consider other possibilities. That is a very good thing as we enter a new age of Man."
He rubbed his face wearily. "I hope you are right. There are times when it all seems completely overwhelming to me. Riding, fighting orcs – that came fairly easy, but ruling a people and seeing to their needs is not what I expected to do with my life."
"All the more reason for you to choose wisely when selecting a wife," Morwen said with a smile. "Do remember what I told you before. If you are unhappy in your marriage, everything else you face will be made all the more difficult for you." She turned her gaze away from him before adding, "And now I will leave you to your whittling. There is time to get in a visit with Morlach before supper, and I want to take him a treat."
He rose and offered his hand to help her up. "Perhaps you would permit me to escort you?"
A glint of surprise flashed in her eyes, but she merely smiled. "I should like that very much, dear boy."
xx
If anyone wondered at the change between Eomer and his grandmother, no one commented on it at supper that evening. Likely Eowyn remained too distracted by Faramir to pay it much mind, but the king caught Lothiriel watching him several times when she thought he did not notice.
She had been right all along. Had he known Morwen's full circumstances, he would have been sympathetic to her situation from the beginning. He could only wonder why he had waited so long to learn the truth for himself. It would not be easy, but he would make certain that Eowyn knew the truth also. This feud needed to end. The Ring War was ended; it was time that their personal war also did.
For one thing at least, Eomer was grateful – he did not glimpse any gloating in Lothiriel's eyes. She had earnestly desired this and was only glad of it. He was not sure he could have acted similarly if their positions were reversed.
xxxxx
Eomer could not remember a time in his life when he had spent so little time in the saddle. Consequently, when Amrothos proposed their riding to Edhellond to meet tradesmen there, rather than having them come to Dol Amroth, the suggestion was most welcome to him.
He only had Eothain accompany him as Amrothos was taking a small contingent of guards. Their horses were in a separate barn from the Dol Amroth mounts, so Eomer and his captain had readied their stallions before going to meet up with Amrothos in the courtyard. They arrived first, and as Eomer pulled on his gloves, he noticed Eothain was not doing likewise. While their hands were toughened through use, they both customarily wore gloves and so it surprised him to find his friend without them. "Where are your gloves?" he asked, taking a last tug on his own before turning his gaze fully on Eothain.
"I…do not have them with me," Eothain said evasively, gathering his reins and stepping up into the saddle.
Eomer was not to be put off by the uninformative response. "I can see that. Why do you not have them with you?" he persisted, favoring his captain with a raised eyebrow.
Realizing there was no avoiding an honest answer, Eothain sighed. "I…lent them to Lady Lothiriel, and she has not yet returned them."
Whatever Eomer might have expected him to say this was certainly not it. "Lady Lothiriel? I was not aware you were particularly acquainted with her, and what would she need with your gloves?"
With another sigh, Eothain made the explanation he clearly could not escape. "I…wandered down to the shore after my morning ride yesterday, and found Lady Lothiriel there. She was struggling with Queen Morwen's little dog – he had gotten into the briars. His fur was full of them and she was attempting to lead him back to the castle, but they were bothering him so much that he was resisting her. I think she would have picked him up but for her bare hands, so I offered to carry him. But when I reached for him, he snapped at me and she was afraid I would be bitten, so she declined my help. I thought the least I could do was to lend my gloves to make her task easier. That is all." The big man shrugged sheepishly, looking somewhat embarrassed.
Certainly this was not a tale Eomer had thought to hear from his friend, but more than that he felt a strange stab of annoyance pierce him. No…not annoyance. He searched for the appropriate word, and then was not pleased when it came to him…envy! He was envious of Eothain's coming to Lothiriel's rescue rather than him! It was ludicrous…but it was true all the same. He turned toward his horse before Eothain could discern his feelings. Now was not the time to look too closely at his thoughts or desires…especially those he had not realized existed.
Amrothos had ridden up just in time to catch a snatch of the conversation – enough to know it had been about Morlach. With a snort, he exclaimed, "That beast is evil! There is no controlling him. I do not know how Lady Morwen and my sister are able to tolerate him!"
Eomer raised an amused eyebrow at his friend as he rested a fist on his hip. "I had no difficulty getting him to obey. You only say that," he answered mildly, "because you were unable to control him. Not everyone has that problem!"
He snickered as Amrothos scowled at him, demanding, "Really? Are you saying you actually like that dog, then? And just how do you get him to obey you when he listens to no one else?"
Eomer shrugged. "Perhaps he is a dog of the Mark and he answers only to his king?" Eothain burst into laughter at this, causing Eomer to cast him a chastising look and add, "Clearly the dog shows better deference for his king than do some others that shall be nameless!"
"Well, so far as I am concerned, the Mark may keep their nasty little dog! I have no use for him here. I will not be sorry to see him disappear on the boat homeward, regardless of my sister's opinion on the matter," Amrothos avowed. "Evil…" he muttered again under this breath, signaling the guard forward as he led the way out of the courtyard and down the hill.
Eomer and Eothain grinned at one another once more before falling in on either side of the young man, as the guard took their place at the rear. It was a pleasant ride along the coast, with blue skies and a warm breeze, and they covered the distance to Edhellond in good time. When at last they returned toward the castle, Eomer thought it was one of his better days, though he could not definitively identify why he had found it so pleasant. Perhaps it was simply that just at this moment, life and the future did not seem quite so overwhelming and impossible.
Realizing he had inundated Eomer with meetings, Imrahil had scheduled a dance to keep things relaxing for his guests. The prince had intended to hold several such gatherings, but circumstances and the weather had played against them. Now Eomer and his party would be leaving in another week.
Eomer had ventured into town briefly on the morning of the dance, mostly just to stretch his legs, and he had found the shops filled with ladies, apparently buying new finery for the evening's event. Many of them eyed him beguilingly, but if they thought to excite his anticipation for better knowing them, they were mistaken. It was not long before he felt like prey being stalked by hunters, and he beat a hasty retreat back to the castle.
He had been surprised that the branch he had been carving was still in the garden later that same afternoon, and on a whim he had taken it to his room. When he returned there after his outing to town, his eyes fell upon it and he carried it out to the balcony and settled in a chair he placed there. He broke off smaller unusable twigs and scraped away the bark, then carefully broke the long branch into shorter ones that were easy to work on. His first finished effort was a small, rough-cut horse, that stood lopsidedly on his knee only a moment before falling over. Still, the exercise of producing it had helped him recover his skill at carving, and he now felt up to a greater challenge. Not really sure what he wanted to make, he made a few tentative cuts before laying it aside and brushing the cuttings off him.
Rising, he leaned on the railing, staring out over the garden toward the sea, then stretched. So much idleness was strange to him, and even whittling had not kept him occupied for much more than an hour. He wandered out of his room, again strolling through the castle as he had the day he first arrived, and it was not long before he found himself in the solar.
Once there, his restlessness eased, so he sequestered himself, enjoying the view and the solitude. His thoughts drifted back to earlier that morning and his visit to town. The women he encountered there had disturbed him, though it took him a while before he realized why that was. He needed to find a wife – that much had been firmly established – and dances were the likely place to meet someone, so it seemed odd that he had such trepidation going into it. Only as he considered his unease, did he understand that he did not like these calculated attempts to win favor. It felt too much like choosing the best livestock for purchase. But even more than that, it was too reminiscent of how he had treated Lothiriel when he offered for her hand. What had that been but an unfeeling, calculated attempt to form a treaty between their two houses? Had she felt so appalled to be approached in that way as he felt now? He was not unused to women being attracted to him and flirting – barmaids did it often enough – but this was something far different, and it left a bad taste in his mouth.
He had been looking forward to the evening until now, but presently he very much wished he could avoid it. It was unlikely to be possible so he would have to endure as best he could, but those women were apt to be very much disappointed with his response to them tonight. He could dance, though it was not a favorite activity, and luckily he had made it a practice to dance very little so it would not seem unusual to his friends. If these were all the marital prospects he could expect in Dol Amroth, he might as well head for home now. He had seen nothing to entice him to stay.
TBC
Spoils of war - Any profits extracted as the result of winning a war or other military activity.
Halgeth – "tall woman" – maidservant to Morwen
Zimran – "adorned man" – Forlong's heir (Tolkien never named him so I did)
Minleoth - "my song" - name given to 1st dau of Thengel & Morwen
Ethelwyn – noble joy - name given to 2nd dau of Thengel & Morwen
Tamleoth – "gentle song" - name given to 3rd dau of Thengel & Morwen
Morlach – "black fire" - Morwen's dog
Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg (also used in previous stories, ie. Juxtaposition)
Haldor - "sound door" – Eomer's manservant
Ungaphel – "daughter of shadow" – backbiting Dol Amroth noblewoman
Pethraen – "wandering words" – airheaded girl flirting with Eomer
Gaermith – "grey sea" - Lothiriel's horse that pulled a stifle
Frame of reference (details from Tolkien with gapfiller by me):
Aglahad, Prince of Dol Amroth, had two sons: Angelimir (the heir and grandfather to Imrahil) and a younger brother who was the father of Morwen. Morwen was born about 2922 and married Thengel in 2943. They had Minleoth (b 2945, m 2975, d 2989 – no children); Theoden (b 2948, m Elfhild 2976, d 3019 – one son, Theodred, b 2978, d 3019); Ethelwyn (b 2951, m 2982, d 2994 – one daughter, b 2986, died 2994); Tamleoth (b 2956, never married, d 2992); and Theodwyn (b 2963, married Eomund 2989, d 3002). Thengel became king in 2953 whereupon he and his family moved to Rohan, where he died in 2980.