CHAPTER 31
Where there's a will, there's a way.
It had required a strenuous effort to regain some sense of control and normalcy for the people of Romen. One fortnight had passed since the fateful days of heavy rainfall and the families had started returning to their homes to begin the hard work of restoration that lay ahead. The waters had receded enough to assess the damages to some extent, and the numbers had been grim. A significant part of the harvest was ruined, enough to bring hunger upon them come winter. Though some fields may recover their fertility in a season or two, there were also those that likely would not in any foreseeable future. Most people were preoccupied with their own challenges and in their focus, failing to see the larger implications. For this, Aema was partly grateful, as it offered her time to find solutions before the realization dawned upon most. It was not that they were ignorant, they simply focused on their task, as she focused on hers.
Alise had retired for the night as Aema lingered in her high-backed chair in front of the hearth, letting the rounded flame's waving calm her. In her hand, the note Éomer had sent her rested. She had read it many times over, it said:
"Winter's hold cannot last forever." Nothing more, nothing less. He always had been oddly poetic in his emotional straightforwardness. She thumbed the parchment, thinking that she had long awaited a metaphorical spring that had still to arrive.
He had shown enough concern to send his thoughts, a notion she carried with her throughout her trying days. As the king of Rohan, she could only assume his days were as busy as hers, yet in a shadowed corner of her mind, one she did not like to admit, nor visit, the question why he had not come lingered. Somehow, she had managed to grow used to his presence whenever she needed it most. He had been a pillar of strength for her throughout it all and his absence now was deeply felt. She refused the thought to venture further and decided to retire. The room had grown dark during her quiet contemplation and come morning she was due to visit the northern banks to see the damage the flood left behind with her own eyes.
As Aema, flanked by a couple of her guards had ridden north in the early morning, she had begun to see the devastation as they slowly inched closer towards the riverbank. Where the crops should waver in the winds, ripe for harvest, they lay scattered and wilted, not even animals nibbling on the dank, dead produce. Many places were in disarray with debris scattered, and fences thrown about the ground. Most buildings showed the waterline far up their walls, the wood saturated and swollen, all in desperate need of repairs.
She sat in the farmer's humble kitchen and had enjoyed a fresh piece of honey cake the goodwife had graciously baked for the occasion. They were a sweet older couple, hardened by years of labor, weary from the events that had transpired, yet generous and earnest in that way that hard working people often were. Their cottage was small but welcoming.
"However, we will get through this I don't know. And my boy, my strong boy, buried somewhere in the south, wasted in a war far away."
Aema refrained from correcting the heartbroken mother, it was not the time nor place to correct her regarding the war, though it did pain her how most people had not fully understood what had been at stake and that though the war had been far away, they would have been next, had the dark forces not been hindered, had Gondor not hosted the battle they seemed so detached to.
"We will do what needs to be done and whatever we can." Aema said, trying to encourage the couple who obviously faced struggles.
"I'm afraid we already are." The soft-spoken farmer spoke up. "But the tasks are too many and we are too few."
"What troubles you most?" Aema asked the man.
"The fields. Aerating the soil. I need to get through all of them once the water has truly sunken away, and I am but an old man milady."
His wife interrupted him:
"If we weren't such an insignificant corner of this world, perhaps the greater kingdoms would come to our aid now, the way our boy rode to theirs. But no one minds that now, not once their wars are won, our boy is gone, but all that is of small matter to those who enjoy plenty."
Aema again had to fight the urge to defend her allies and friends. None of whom were what the woman painted them to be. But again, she reminded herself of the price this mother had paid, how far away from her world it all lay and what struggles she still faced.
"We are not alone in this world," she said at last. "And you are not alone. I ask you to trust me, we will get through this too."
"Aye, majesty. We stand with you, as we stood with your father. This family is a loyal one, don't you ever doubt it." The man said.
After she'd said farewell to the couple and made it all the way back to her manor well past sunset, the evening tea by the fire brought some much-needed warmth.
"Was it that bad?" Alise asked.
"I'm afraid so Alise, and this was just the north farms mind you. As you know, they say it is the same around all the riverbanks."
"But how will we make it through the winter with so many crops ruined?"
Aema eyed the woman while pursing her lips, she could send word to Gondor, and Rohan, ask them for aid, request for help to replenish the food stores, perhaps send men to help her farmers restore their fields and barns. Alise rose to coax the ember back to flaming life as the evening had grown late.
Romen held less than half the people of the city of Minas Tirith, Gondor at large was so vast in comparison, she preferred not to compare at all. Aragorn would spare much of what she needed, if only she requested it.
"Gondor would provide us aid, I'm certain of it." Aema said at last, and Alise turned around to watch her in the dim light.
"Would our people accept their charity?"
"Their brothers, husbands and sons died upon Gondorian soil, I believe they would accept it as compensation for the uncompensatable, as survival when the alternative is so dire."
Alise placed a hand upon her arm.
"And what of Rohan?" she asked and Aema's eyes fell away. "Did our men not die under their banner too?" A silence settled between the women; the crackling of the revived fire was the only thing being heard.
"Alise…" Aema began but her words failed her, and Alise crouched down beside her.
"Did he not lay his heart out for you?"
"It's been so long now; a heart can be fickle."
"Has your own proven fickle?" Alise said, and again, Aema failed to answer. "It is not my impression of the Rohirrim, nor the lord himself, that they would waver on such matters, milady. Did he not send word to you?"
"Yes, five of them to be precise." Aema said, drawing smiles from both of them.
"Well, he was never particularly garrulous."
"You can be in Edoras in a few days if you ride out." Alise said at last. "Go to him."
Aema eyed her friend. Alise let a soft hand trail the thin chain around her neck until she had fished out the ring from her neckline. Aema could feel how she weighed it in her hand, her eyes falling to it before again locking with hers.
"Go to him…" Alise repeated while slowly releasing her hold of the ring and leaving it to rest atop her chest where her own hand soon found it.
"I thought you wanted to box his ears?" she said with a quivering smile.
"It will be easier if he's around…" Alise chuckled. "I can have you ready for the ride in a manner of hours, you know I just need your word. Though I know not what five words you received, I do now you would not take to a parchment in that manner if it contained mere courtesies." She paused. "Do sleep on it." Alise gave her a friendly peck on her cheek for good night before leaving her to her thoughts.
She sat on her bed, clutching the ring in her hand as her thoughts traveled southward. Alise was right. Not only was she aching to see him again, but to a man such as him, her request was more appropriate to deliver in person. Outside the night had enveloped her land, the window seemed like a black, gaping hole, nothing more. The shadows swaying across the walls from the flickering hearth.
"Éomer…." She whispered into the dim room, her stomach turning while contemplating whether he'd welcome her. Perhaps the time apart had made him come to his senses. Maybe her absence had allowed reason to remove her, pushing her into a well-hidden, dark corner where she'd stay as faint memory. Perhaps Alise was right, perhaps he was far from fickle. She wondered if his words were supposedly his outreached hand.
Her eyes drifted towards her bower door. She could be in Edoras in a few days if she made haste. From there, a messenger could bring her word to Gondor in a matter of a few more days. Her people were proud and simple, yet far from foolish. They had proven the value they placed on community, would they then not extend the community to include their allies, she struggled to see how they would take issue with it under the circumstances. The longing to once more lay eyes on Éomer had been reawakened by Alise's words. It had slumbered during the days; she had lulled it to sleep through distractions and hard work. Yet all Alise had to do was point in his general direction and all that had been deeply buried began stirring anew. The path lay open, and she seemed unable to hinder herself from following it. She could be on her way before the sun tipped over its peak the next day. With a fluttering feeling in her chest and a trembling smile into the dark, she threw herself down onto her bed. She wished to fall asleep swiftly, to hasten the arrival of the new day.
