Eomer was ecstatic! They were ALIVE! The Halfling had WON! He sang a song of joy, joined by like chorus of coarse voices from parched throats! The Dark Lord was NO MORE! He embraced his shield brother Aragorn and both had watery eyes...
Eomer noted that a blood-splattered high-ranking Gondorian was patiently waiting to be noticed. He tore himself away from The Ranger's tall, muscular body and unshaved cheek and walked up to the man. The noble bowed and greeted him courteously.
"Westu Hal, Eomer Kunnik! I am Midhon son of Erynor. I bring you a missive from the Steward."
He handed over the letter.
"The Steward instructed me to express his most heartfelt apologies for the unfortunate incident in Minas Tirith involving your sister the..."
"WHAT! WHAT INCIDENT!?" The King of the Horselords was bellowing in the man's face, talks with Gondorian lords which Aragorn had asked him to participate in instantly forgotten.
An hour later the King of the Mark and his closest retainers were galloping towards Cair Andros, to cross the Anduin there. They rode horses supplied by the apologetic Steward – this being the term used by Midhon – and which the high-born courier had brought along with him. The Eorlings kept their destriers as spares. Eomer left the army in Erkenbrand's hands with instructions to treat the wounded and return to the Mark as soon as the men's and horses' condition allowed. The agitated King of the Mark spiritedly declined any assistance offered by Gondorian lords – even those he had previously befriended - shouting gratuitous and occasionally cryptic insults at them. The most obscure of these invectives was the description of the Prince of Dol Amroth Imrahil's daughter as a "sway-backed she-moose" - most likely some literally-translated Rohirric idiom.
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Elfhelm looked at the dishevelled group that was led into his hall. It was led by a dirty woman in a mix of high quality and practical garb. Her facial features identified her a high born Gondorian. She was flanked by a girl at the cusp of womanhood and a slightly younger boy, both broadly sharing her features. Two middle aged men-servants - judging by their bearing and clothing - rounded off the group.
The woman curtsied and began to introduce herself:
"I am Aredhel, daughter of Arahelon. We come to beseech you for sanctuary as my children and I have fled Gondor. My husband had warned me that the Steward will judge his acts treasonous and urged us to flee the realm. He feared for our lives in face of Denethor's wrath as the Steward is well known for his vengeful nature. Having been sent to the Vales of Lamedon in the Ered Nimrais for safety we had but one route to take – directly north over the mountains."
Elfhelm impassively nodded for her to continue. The trails over the White Mountains they must have used were fit for mountain goats, not people. No wonder they looked worn and weary. And so early in the year! They had been lucky not have frozen to death or being killed by an avalanche.
"Is there mayhap any word of my husband? He wrote saying he would take the road to Rohan. He is Hurin the - "
She was interrupted by Elfhelm's roar,
"He is the abductor of maidens! A poisoner! Fit to be an orc! The vilest scum to walk the earth! He is dead! He was executed for abduction of maiden, forced marriage and conspiracy against the throne of the Mark!"
He was interrupted by a high pitched wail coming from the woman and was distracted enough from his own fury to see her anguished and terrified face.
"Don't kill us! Kill me! Spare the children! Please!"
She screeched as she went down on her knees before him and made a move forward to prostrate herself before him. He knew of this - rarely used - Gondorian gesture of supplication.
To his horror he saw a bump in her front. The thought of her throwing herself on her belly and miscarrying brought back a vision of his wife, Rymenhild, her skirts soaked with blood and her eyes glazing over in death.
He lunged forward, but one of his guards was faster and caught the Gondorian woman before she plopped herself on the floor.
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"You're alive ... you're alive ... " - the King of the Mark sobbed, crushing his sister in his arms. Eowyn hugged him just as fiercely and with equal emotion.
"My brother ... my brother ... my love ... but try not to break my barely set arm, you bear of a man ... "
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"So, Sister mine, what are your wishes. I will grant you anything you want." – Eomer begin. He was so glad she had not died at Pellenor – he had forgiven her riding there in the first pace – and then survived abduction by treacherous Gondorians that he would give her anything!
"First, I wish to stay here, in Aldburg."
"With Feefee?" Eomer grinned, using her old nickname for their cousin from the times when Elfhelm was too much of a mouthful for her to pronounce.
"Yes," she nodded, also with a faint smile.
"Meduseld has too many shadows for me to bear to walk its corridors. Aldburg holds much better memories for me. Here I will heal in mind and body."
"Aldburg it is then. Would you be up to a certain task to lessen my burden?"
Eowyn looked at him eagerly.
"You had been regent before. Now you could be Underking for the Eastemnet. I am going to have my hands more than full with the Westfold alone. It is a complete ruin."
She nodded, a flash of excitement in her eyes. Eomer almost wept - he had not seen so much life in those plumbeous spheres for many, many years.
"I can do that!" – the White Lady of Rohan, wearing blue that day, exclaimed.
"Just don't rush out to ride down every orc band, like I did in my time," he added with a smirk.
"Leave orc chasing to Elfhelm."
She patted his arm reassuringly and picked up her case:
"Second thing, marriage." – she drew breath.
"Now that the wimple silliness is over, now that you had freed me from the Steward's son, I may marry, but after everything that had happened - not soon. I am well aware that alliances will be sought and my hand asked for, but please put off any suits for at least a year. I may consider suitors but no sooner than in spring."
"You will never marry against your will, even if I myself have to marry some revolting rickets' ridden repelling rat from Gondor." – her brother promised her.
She hugged him in reply.
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"Two matters at hand, Elfhelm."
"Yes, Sire?"
"One is the Steward's son. I've a mind to put him to some use." – Eomer announced.
"So you will let him live, after all? The way you shook him and shouted at him the day you arrived I thought the crows would have something to feed upon. I almost put the carpenter on sharpening the stake" - Elfhelm said mirthfully.
"He is ... innocent, I feel, of the ... incident. But still he was cause of harm done to my sister and I can't forgive him that. I will use his military experience – he was a renowned leader of men of Gondor, after all."
Elfhelm could only nod – he had trained with the man and his skill with the sword was extraordinary. And had been leading companies of men against Mordor for years.
"I will send him with an eored into the Wold. Furthermore he himself pleaded with me to put him to some good use, to give him relief from his burden." - Eomer continued outlining his plans.
Eomer glanced at his cousin and waited for an explanation.
"He judges himself to carry the blood of the men and woman you executed on his head. He does not blame you for it, aware of how damning the evidence against them was. But he wants to protect those who cannot protect themselves as to pay back his debt to them for saving him from the block. The Denethorsson considers his duty to be defending his people. Now that he is banished from Gondor, from his people, he will gladly defend the Children of Eorl, as he put it."
Elfhelm nodded. Before Eomer could continue he interjected:
"Any substance behind his death sentence? He said that there was none, but you'd not expect grass to tell a horse that it is lush and tasty."
"The little time I had to speak on this with Aragon was that Denethor has a mind of steel and a heart of stone. He would do whatever he considers best for Gondor – be it sacrificing his sons if necessary. Meh – wielding the knife himself if need be. Absolutely ruthless. Holds a grudge like a dwarf and is as cunning and vengeful like a Dunlander."
The king's cousin shuddered inside at such a picture. He returned to the issue at hand and thought out loud.
"Good idea with the Wold. It could use a good man ... with me here, with you at Edoras and Erkenbrand in the Westfold. No one there. Send the Denethorsson to Maredenn and – " - Elfhelm was cut off by his King.
"Why there?"
"There used to be a Hall there." – the Horselord explained.
"All that is left of the family holding that estate is a four year old boy in my care in Aldburg. His grandfather left him here while riding for Mundburg. The grandfather died at Mundburg alongside Theoden's huskarls – he was Theoden's old friend. So the Gondrian may protect the holding, maybe restore it if necessary. He'd been educated in more than just warfare, you know, he had been raised to rule and govern, that is easy to see. He even asked me for the library!" – Elfhelm added the last in a mix of awe and mistrust.
"And send that Aredhel woman with him. Please ... " – Elfhelm implored.
Eomer chuckled
"Falling for her, old dog, and afraid your control will slip while she's in mourning, eh?"
Elfhelm was serious, though.
"No! She hates me! And her children even more so. I had that Hurin put to death, after all. She makes my porridge turn when she or her brood glare at me."
Eomer turned sombre and thoughtful.
"I think I have a better use for her. With "Oyoy" - he winked at Elfhelm - "here, I need somebody to run Meduseld. She managed the Citadel in Mundburg. She surely can run the Golden Hall."
"Won't she poison you?" – Elfhelm was doubtful and displayed his newly acquired wariness of herbal blends.
"I think not. I've talked with her and she hates Denethor more than even you. The Steward wants her in Gondor, by the way. That alone makes me inclined not to send her to him, not that she is guilty of anything that idiot husband of hers had done."
"If it suits you" - Elfhelm shrugged.
"And take Gerbil with you." – he added.
"Who?" – the startled Eomer asked.
"Gerbil, the son of one of the Gondorians I condemned."
"Bergil." – Eomer corrected his cousin.
"Oh, whatever."
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Indeed the Steward's son had gone through Aldburg's library with the speed of a fire through a dry steppe. Not that there was much to go through as it numbered exactly eight books. The selection of titles – some of them familiar – and of topics, as well as a few being in elfish tongues clearly identified them as having belonged to Thedowyn. He was now eying the last unread title – a tome of sonnets in Quenya. He idly wondered whether – true to common wisdom - elfish poetry always mentioned - or at least hinted at – of maidens being kissed there. He'll soon find out. And then he would move on to the last thing to read in all of Aldburg – the record of horse bloodlines in the Eastfold and Eastemnet.
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Eomer approached his shield brother polluting the air with his pipe while sitting on the steps of the Aldburg Hall.
"And what of your dealings, Aragorn?"
The Dunadan was not eager to answer.
" I and Denethor have ... come to an arrangement." – he finally uttered.
Eomer King's bushy unibrow rose in question.
"I will busy myself with re-establishing the Kingdom of Arnor while he rules Gondor until his death. And he is to pay me a yearly stipend to keep me away. It is worth half of what he expects to gain from there being no more Mordor to fight. The north cannot rise by its own means so I will take what I can. And I'm to succeed him if the Council wills it so." – he shrugged dejectedly.
"That's less than I want but more than I could had forced him to give." – Isildur's heir concluded.
"And what if Denethor refuses to pay?"
Aragorn shrugged again.
"Then I wait until he dies ..."
"And what about the woman who gave you that jewel?" – the King of the Mark rivaled his subject from the Fens in his tenacity for talk about personal matters. He truly was the leader of his people in everything, gossip-mongering included.
The King of Arnor winced and Eomer could see the pain in his wind chiselled face.
"We both wait until he dies ... "
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Watching the son of Denethor ride away into the rising sun, Elfhelm smiled. He had added a personal touch to the man's punishment ...
Two weeks earlier...
"Karl, do you have anybody at home waiting for you? Such that your absence be greatly felt?"
"Not tha' much, my Lord. Tha'rs da missus an' yon'est brats. Lass o'sissteen an' gurl o'eight. Elest lad's wiff me an' taller 'n'me" - he added with a father's pride.
"In a fortnight's time the son of Denethor will be sent into the Wold to show his quality. He was a captain in his homeland, so he surely is capable. The question is - will he be ... proper?"
Elfhelm could see the Fenlander's narrowed eyes and knew his opinion without asking.
"I am requesting your help. Will you join my eored for a year and a day and ride with the Gondorian? As Senior Rider you would answer only to the Lieutenant and Captain."
For a heartbeat Karl hesitated - he'd become a Lord's Man! The scum of the earth ... yet in Good Cause. He nodded his agreement.
Elfhelm beamed at him happily.
"Take a fortnight's leave then, my good man, and ride to your family. The Denethorsson will not ride out without you."
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And so the White Lady of Rohan raised the stirrup cup for those who rode out from Aldburg. First for Eomer King and King Aragorn riding to Edoras. There they would separate, with the Dunadan and his followers - the Hobbits, Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli, plus all those of the Grey Company who survived the dual carnage of the Pellenor and Morannon - continuing to Isengard, to pay Saruman a visit. From there they were to strike out west, following the Greenway to Bree. Meanwhile Eomer would finally occupy the throne of the Mark and in passing install Aredhel as the chatelaine.
Then Eowyn raised the stirrup cup for the son of Denethor who – with Karl from the Fenlands stuck to him like a burr - rode under a two-horestail banner with an eored of veteran Riders to the Wold to protect the land and people from the depredations of marauders orphaned by the fall of Dol Guldur.
Gazing from the Hall's platform into the sunset, the Wraithsbane gave a thought to the Steward's son. Her former husband. She snorted with amusement. What a silly marriage it had been! With the passing of the Shadow she was now capable of laughter and merriment where previously she would have not seen any. Maybe he was not as handsome as his brother, the one offering her honey glazed rolls at the picnic just before the nightmare began, maybe he had not attracted her the way stallions draw mares to them ... yet there was something alluring about him. Alongside all his skill as a warrior and leader of man there was something gentle about his manner, Eowyn sensed a warm generosity in him. Tempting her like a smooth to touch blanket she could wrap herself in. Someday. Maybe.
The Steward's son had begged her for an audience and pleaded forgiveness for his misguided men and his brother. The Denenthorsson explained that it was an unfortunate mix of circumstances, that the plan was to get them across the border and have the marriage annulled immediately. Him she could forgive - he had been strapped to the back of a bolting horse and had no say over how things had evolved. The thought of seeing him again next year was not unpleasant in any way. But she could not forgive his brother. Not for using her so, in a manner worthy of Grima. Not yet. Maybe never.
Eowyn slipped her arm around Elfhelm's waist and leaned into him. She was happy, safe and content.
THE END
AN:
Timeline:
15.03.3019 TA - Battle of Pellenor Fields, all sorts of interesting things happen
18.03.3019 TA - the Army of the West aka Forlorn Hope sets out for Morannon
19.03.3019 TA - Denethor sentences one of his sons to death, conspiracy to save said son
20.03.3019 TA - aborted execution, courier sent to Hurin's wife, wain leaves Minis Tirith
22.03.3019 TA - courier reaches Mrs. Hurin who immediately gathers children and takes to the mountain passes
23.03.3019 TA - Elfhelm intercepts wain, executes Gondorians, sends couriers to Eomer
24.03.3019 TA . - the Umbar Expedition sails from Harlond
25.03.3019 TA - Elfhelm and newly weds arrive in Aldburg, Battle at Morannon, Eomer gets a letter
28.03.3019 TA - Aredhel and children arrive in Aldburg
30.03.3019 TA - Eomer arrives in Aldburg
20.04.3019 TA – many partings
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I'm using horsetail banners to denote military rank among the Eorlings.
One tail is an eored leader/captain
Two tails is an appointment to lead several eoreds
Three tails is a Marshall
Five tails is an Underking
The King rides under white horse on green field banner – who would have thought they would be consistent, eh?