Éomer grunted as he lowered himself into the bath, his first in what seemed a lifetime. They were finally back at Meduseld. The clean-up of Helm's Deep, followed by a visit to the Wizard Saruman, had taken the best part of a day. All they had gained from Saruman were whispered rumours and a dark stone that Gandalf had claimed and kept hidden from all. The cleansing of Helm's Deep had not been without difficulties. Every familiar face, every child, who lay dead in the mud or upon the ramparts had felt like a knife to the gut. Ailith had eventually collapsed from exhaustion. Éowyn had confessed to her brother that she believed their friend had not rested since the evacuation from Edoras; always she had been required, when others slept her services were needed elsewhere.
And speaking of Ailith, she had just entered the room.
She didn't knock, she didn't pause on the threshold, she just barged straight into the room as if he was fully clothed and not sitting stark naked in an over-sized tin basin.
He swore and clung to the edge of the bath. "Ailith, I am trying to wash," he said stiffly.
"And?" she replied, moving further into the room. "I'm a physician. I've seen more naked men than you women."
She smirked at his discomfort and turned to shut the door.
When she turned back he was still clinging to the edge of the tub as if it was about to be swept away by a flood, glaring at her furiously.
"Physician or not, you are both female and one of my oldest friends. I would rather not be so... vulnerable," he said. She rolled her eyes but hurled his cloak at him from where he had discarded it. He caught it and spread it over the bath so he was shielded from her. "Are you wanting something?" he asked.
She held up a shirt. "Éowyn has repaired the seam. She's busy with preparations for tonight so I volunteered to take it to you."
"Could you not have repaired it?" he grinned.
"Were you wanting a shirt or a rag to mop the floor with?" she asked and threw herself backwards onto his bed. The room fell silent, save for the quiet lapping of the water against Éomer's bath as he moved. Éomer watched his friend. Even from here he could see the shadows creeping under her eyes. Her mouth twitched several times and her clenched hands relaxed, revealing eight small, red semi-circles on her palms from where her nails had dug in.
"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly. Her nose wrinkled.
"Exhausted. All I want is a calm moment, is that too much to ask? I've had to unpack, update my inventory, let myself by led off by Cahal when he discovers something interesting to show me, shift benches around the Golden Hall and, just to top it off, that insufferable nag Dernhild keeps cornering me to lecture me on my unladylike conduct and to enquire when I am going to find myself a husband."
She groaned and rubbed her hands across face before rolling over onto her front. Her hair tumbled across her face and she smiled at him sleepily. "It never stops," she said.
"A calm moment would be most welcome," he agreed. Maybe it was just the way she was lazily sprawled across his bed with her hair all tousled but she had never looked so desirable.
"Dernhild would probably have a coronary if she found me in here right now," she added as she sat up.
He grinned and attempted to quell that little voice in the back of his mind willing her to lie down again. "Actually, I think she would probably end up collapsing from lack of breath from gabbling about it to anybody who listened," he said. "Have you decided what you are going to do with Cahal?"
"Yes. He is going to return to the Fortress with myself and my men when this business is finished," she said. "We can give him a good life there."
"And you? Are you truly feeling well again?" he asked. Her gaze hardened. When she had collapsed, it had been screaming after uncovering a Captain of the Elvish army. She had been carried into the Hornburg to rest, muttering, "He caught me, he caught me," repeatedly as she went. Folcred told Éomer afterwards that the Elf had been the one to bring her back to her Fortress after she ran away from home, all those long years ago.
"I just wasn't expecting to Haldir again, especially not like that," she said stiffly. When he tried to press the matter, she snapped, "I do not particularly want to talk about it!"
She stood up and crossed to the door.
"I'll see you tonight," she said, leaning against it.
"Make sure you sort your hair, or Dernhild will think you have a potential husband hidden away somewhere," he called after her. She laughed and left the room, smoothing her hair as she went.
He pulled the cloak off the bath and leant back. He shut his eyes and sighed deeply. She was unbelievable.
His eyes flew open.
By Béma, as she left the room, had she flicked her hips at him?
Ailith tried to keep an eye on Cahal as he weaved through the legs of the crowd. It was an impossible task; eventually she gave up and trusted that he would keep himself safe. Her eye was caught by another young head, this covered in sandy brown curls, moving towards the table with the ale. The boy lifted two tankards down and dodged swiftly across the Hall to another. Ailith watched in case they handed the tankards to a Rider but was appalled to see them chink the tankards together and drink deeply with no-one about them challenging them. She angrily pushed through the crowd but stopped when she saw their faces. The faces of adults, good-natured and mischievous, but adults nevertheless.
"You are Halflings!" she exclaimed.
"We prefer the name Hobbits," the eldest of the two said rather indignantly. "Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, pleased to meet your acquaintance."
"Or, Merry and Pippin to our friends," the younger said, sticking a long pipe into the corner of his mouth.
"Ailith," she replied. "Forgive me for staring but... one of my favourite stories concerns a Halfling." She paused and then corrected herself. "A Hobbit," she said, the word feeling strange on her tongue. The two exchanged a look and then burst out laughing.
"Oh, old Bilbo would be so flattered to know that his story is told by people he doesn't know!" Pippin hooted.
"You know him!" she exclaimed.
"Of course we do! Every Hobbit in the shire knows dear old Bilbo!" Merry agreed. He kicked Pippin playfully. "Stop smoking! You will go through your barrel in no time at this rate!"
Ailith left them bickering and walked towards where Éomer was standing drawing mugs of ale and placing them on a table.
"... and no regurgitation!" Gimli crowed happily and ploughed straight into his first tankard. Ailith watched as Legolas picked up another and steadily began to drink.
"Oh, Éomer, you haven't," she said exasperatedly. He looked at her with a wicked grin.
"It's tradition. Our friends here are to be made honorary Riders, they must be able to hold their own on all types of battlefield. Have you never attempted the Ancient Challenge?" he asked.
"I like having a functioning liver!" she snapped.
One of the men watching Legolas and Gimli made a sound that sounding an awful lot like a chicken squawking. Ailith's head whipped round, her eyes narrowed.
"Just clearing my throat," the Rider grinned. Éomer wrapped a hand around her waist.
"Relax, this is supposed to be a celebration," he whispered in her ear and then raised his voice so the others could hear. "Perhaps the Lady would like to place a small wager on who will be the victor?"
"Legolas," she said without hesitation. Éomer looked at the table. Already, Gimli was pulling ahead of his companion.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"The Lady made her choice and she stands by it!" she said sweetly. "The Elf."
"Heheheh! It's the dwarves that go swimming, with little hairy women!" Gimli slurred, bouncing up and down on his bench. Éomer and the Riders laughed heartily and even Ailith struggled not to let out a chuckle.
"He's going to go soon," she laughed, leaning into Éomer. "Prepare to lose."
"Something is affecting me!" Legolas announced. He held up a hand and looked at it in confusion. "A slight tingle, here in my fingers."
"You were saying?" Éomer said, raising an eyebrow at Ailith.
"Wha' did I say? Pa always said Elves can't hold their liquor!" Gimli slurred. As they watched, his eyes slowly crossed and he fell backwards off the bench.
"Game over," Legolas said. "Thank you for the trust, Ailith." He gave a small bow to her which she returned with a mock-curtsey.
"I win!" she sang at Éomer and, patting him fondly on the cheek and laughing merrily, she moved off into the crowd. Éomer watched her weave in between people in that glorious blue dress of her mother's. She still looked exhausted and her hair was not braided, instead hanging loose down her back, but she looked every bit as lovely as she had that night at the Fortress. He followed her.
She had paused in the centre of the Hall to watch Merry and Pippin dance and sing on a table.
"What do you want for your prize?" he said in her ear as he came up behind her.
"I'll think of something," she said. Her heart beat faster as she felt him wrap his arms around her again.
"Get off me, you lummox. Someone will see!" she said, playfully digging him in the ribs.
"Good point. If Dernhild was to see then no doubt she would no doubt faint from sheer joy at the gossip possibilities," he grinned. "The Third Marshal and the female Rider."
She glanced over her shoulder at him and then moved towards a door to a back corridor, knowing that he was following her.
Even before the door had fully closed behind them, they were in each other's arms. A little bit of desperation, a little bit of longing for human comfort in the face of all that had happened and a little bit of feelings long kept suppressed all came together as she locked her arms around his neck, his hands caressing her back and hair.
As Éomer's lips trailed down her neck and collarbone, she let out a small sigh. She didn't want this moment, this beautiful calm moment, to ever come to an end.
Two little references to The Hobbit in the form of Bilbo and Gimli's Pa. :) I nearly burst into tears about three times while watching that film, I just loved it so much. And I am getting me a Bofur hat from somewhere.
A very merry Christmas to you! :)