Chapter 5: In Which Correspondence Is Held

Dated: November 21, 3012 TA

Dear Luna,

I wanted to start writing to you the moment I returned to Aldburg after we parted. But what would I write? What stories would I tell you? I have many stories I could tell, of course, and I wish to share them all with you, in time. Alas, It would have done little good to write after such a short passing. Aldburg stays rather boring. Small bands of Wildmen from Dunland occasionally make their way through our borders. They will steal from our crops or torment families not within the walls of the fortress, but that is something we have always dealt with.

My days brought me back to Edoras not long after you had departed. Eowyn grows more and more restless inside Meduseld. Grima Wormtongue claimed to have caught the housekeeper stealing from my uncle's food stores and she was fired from her duties. There is no base to dispute his claims, however. And now Eowyn is tasked with the duties of housekeeper on top of the ones already entrusted to her by my uncle. There is not much I can do but offer my support. Uncle is often behind his desk, managing the country's ledgers and stocks. He has not the time for me these days.

Theodred wished me to tell you he means good on his word to check into Edoras more often since the trifle with your Imrahil Prince. Alas, he also says that the Fords of Isen, which are under his patrol as Second Marshal, have been newly populated with wolf-like creatures. He has yet to kill or capture one, and he is not entirely sure what they are yet. But I can vouch for his good word, as I met with him in Edoras. Eowyn says Theoden's mood is foul when Theodred is not around. That worries me, as it does Theodred. But there is little we can do. Theoden is handling things as best he can. We are best suited to assist him from our posts.

I do wonder what little worries plague you in Dol Amroth. Does your mother find her hands full with flus and colds as winter draws near? And are you ready for the cold to start rolling in? Does it get cold in Dol Amroth? I can't imagine so, at least not as cold as it does in the Mark. Lothiriel mentioned it never grows cold enough for snow there. That your winters are filled with little more than rain. Have you ever seen snow? Nasty stuff. I do not recommend it.

How faires your father? I suppose well enough. He mentioned the winters were his easiest days. I do think of him often and how impressed I was with his horses. Not Rohirric steeds, obviously, but gorgeous mares and a striking stallion you had brought with you on the trip. Tis a pity your father was born an Amrothian. It is not often I envy the horse skills of a foreigner.

I plan to return to Edoras for Yuletide. No doubt that will please Eowyn greatly and annoy Wormtongue more. I wonder what Yuletide is like in Gondor. No doubt those stuffy events Lothiriel relentlessly compared Rohan's celebrations to.

I do not mean any ill words towards Lothiriel, of course. I hope she is in good spirits as well. As for her brother, I will bite my tongue on that subject for now.

Please give your father my best. I expect it will be sometime before I receive a letter in response from you. No doubt Yuletide will be long over once you receive this, yet I still wish you a merry celebration.

With Bema's blessings,

Eomer

Dated: February 14, 3013 TA

Dear Eomer,

Alas, Yuletide had come and gone when I received your letter, but I do not complain. I am glad to have received it at all. But as for the celebrations, they were merry indeed. No doubt you would find them "stuffy" but Yuletide is a time of year I treasure. The music played in the royal halls is happier. Prince Imrahil's spirits are at their highest. Even the most sour person in Dol Amroth, the prince's librarian Ulfion, sings along with the carols. This year, Prince Imrahil filled the halls with the most lovely Euphorbia I had ever seen. Their striking growth of red leaves absolutely covered the royal hall. Of course, there is no medicinal use of them, but I can appreciate a plant for its beauty just as much as I can for its usefulness.

Lothiriel danced the night away of course with every arm that would have her. I watched her twirl around the hall and could not help but remember how I never got to share a dance with you. I am sure you would be pleased to know I denied Amrothos a dance. I denied every offer.

The winters here are cold enough, I will tell you. I do not like the cold. I never have. I think it is mostly that I do not like being restricted by the heavy clothes one must wear when it is cold out. And, to clarify for you, no it does not snow in Belfalas and the winters are indeed, full of cold rain. I, however, have seen snow. Are you surprised? It snowed excessively every winter in the land I was born in. I do not remember it well, but the memories of it are there.

You mentioned patrolling the lands in your letter to me and I remembered you were to take up the Marshal title when came your next birthday. When will that day come to pass? It probably will by the time this reaches you. Definitely by the time your next letter reaches me. Assuming so, I wish you luck in your new post. No doubt it will allow you to aid King Theoden and your sister in a greater capacity. Your tidings from Theodred bright me comfort. As far as I know, Lord Denathor was not angered by the outcome of our trip. According to Amrothos, he seemed to care very little. Of course, Amrothos hears these words through Denathor's son, Faramir. How many mouths has this news traveled through? How accurate is it, I know not. I am just the stablemaster's daughter.

Your writings of partoling the plains for Dunlandings reminded me of the sea patrols that take place here. The Corsairs of Umbar occasionally skew the horizon of Dol Amroth's waters. Belfalas turns many more men into Naval soldiers than it does cavalry and I hear stories from the fisherman that know the swan sailors. I know little of the Wildmen of Dunland, but the Corsairs of Umbar, I know of all too well. Of course, they wouldn't dare try to port here, but it is clear they are traveling back and front from Umbar to some coast north of Dol Amroth. I shudder at the thought of meeting a Corsair. Give me a wildman any day.

I passed along your tidings to my father. As winter draws to a close, he grows busier and busier. My mother spends most of her time in the library with Ulfion, helping him write his book on plants and their medicinal properties. She says he also wishes to write a book of tea recipes. The two of them are constantly brewing different concoctions. All of the Evermind we picked in the Greenwoods was gone within days of her sharing its petals with Ulfion. Alas, my mother not needing my help, leads me to spending my time in the barns and pastures with my father, cleaning tack, training the mares, helping birth the new young. I cannot complain, though. As grueling as the labor is, I love the horses. Father says he will be using Pepper come her next heat cycle. That gives me pause, as I will not be able to ride her if she is pregnant, but I am happy she will be contributing to the cavalry.

I suppose this is where I will leave you, for now. Do keep me informed of your uncle's and Eowyn's health. I think of them from time to time and I wish them nothing but wellness.

Until the tides shift,

Luna

Dated: January 4, 3015 TA

Dear Luna,

Oh how I treasure your letters. They are a small amount of peace in my life as the duties of Third Marshal have completely consumed me. In the year we have been writing, My anticipation for your next correspondence consumes me as well. I know this is forward of me, but I feel it is important for you to know.

The Wildmen's attacks have increased tenfold. Not only do the pillage, but they now attempt to burn crops as they move throughout the plains. Orcs have appeared as well. I told you long ago that my father had been murdered by Orcs while on his own patrol. I will not pretend to be absent of fear in these times. Orcs and Wildmen have always been at odds with the people of the Mark, but never in these growing numbers. Your writings to me of the growing appearance of Corsairs on the ocean's horizon brings me these same feelings. I am sure you are safe in Dol Amroth, but I cannot say the same for certain with Rohan in these times. Two families have been murdered in the outerlands of the Mark this month. Unfortunately, there is little I can do under my jurisdiction as Third Marshal. These families were in my uncle's territory and though he holds the title of First Marshal in addition to King, he cannot patrol in these times.

Eowyn writes to me that his health wavers much these days and he finds himself aging atop his throne in Meduseld. Theodred has made it up sporadically throughout the year, as you know, but he is not a miracle worker. He cannot cure his father of what ails him, especially if it is simply old age. And he cannot dismiss Wormtongue without proof of committing some crime. It is his right to serve my uncle in his capacity as it was his father, Lord Galmod to serve Theoden and my grandfather Thengel before him.

I imagine you do not have to think of the woes of old age with your Prince Imrahil. I suspect him to be a man who will grow into a century of age and still have his mind at the end. You did not write to me last time of Lothiriel. I hope that is not due to some kind of distance between the two of you.

I am glad your mother enjoyed the package I sent. Whenever I see patches of Simbelmynë on patrol in the fields, I try to make camp there and allow myself a few moments of peace to gather some. I brewed a path of the tea recipe you sent me from your mother and the librarian of your royal house. I do not often indulge in tea, but I was impressed and surprised to learn these simple overgrown flowers could make something like that. In return, I have enclosed my aunt's recipe for honey cakes, the same served at the banquet you attended with me two and a half years ago.

As always, I look forward to your next response. I look forward to hearing about your life, for it is not mundane to me as it is to you. I look forward to a kind greeting from your mother and a word from your father. You cannot know the comfort you bring me in these correspondences, Luna. Please write as soon as you receive this. I could not stand a delay.

Yours in anticipation,

Eomer

Dated: May 23, 3017

Dearest Eomer,

I hope this letter reaches you swiftly, for the tides of my life are to change drastically as I frantically write you this letter.

Prince Imrahil is sending my mother and I to Minas Tirith first thing tomorrow morning. The Orc attacks coming from the Black Gates of Mordor threaten the support posts and cities outlying our capital in Gondor. Denathor's eldest son, Boromir defends these forts best he can with the welcomed assistance of his younger brother, Faramir, but as Imrahil has explained, it is not enough. Ioreth, the leader of Minas Tirith's Healing Houses is overwhelmed with the soldiers that pass through her doorstep. Gondor has not seen death like this in centuries. Even the Umbarian Corsairs have begun deep sea attacks on Belfalas's ships. Elphir, the eldest of Imrahil's children, has been at the helm of the navy, doing what he can to defend our ships.

I do not wish to leave my home in these times, but the hardest part about this will be leaving my papa behind. He will still be needed to train and produce horses of Dol Amroth's cavalry. No doubt Denathor will be demanding support any day now. I have never seen my mother so distraught whenever it is mentioned that we are leaving, for a return does not seem at all likely in the near future and the possibility of him coming to the White City is an even further stretch.

How do you do it? How do you live leagues away from your uncle and Eowyn, even Theodred stationed at the Hornburg? How do you continue so casually not knowing what has happened to each of them at the end of the day? I know I am not to be parted from my mother, but my heart weeps for my coming separation with my father. It weeps for every coming separation. You know Lothiriel and I have grown apart this last year as the duties of Princess have consumed her. But to be separated from the one I still call my best friend...can a heart ache more?

I know you are reading this letter and wondering How your next will reach me. Unfortunately, correspondence with civilians has been halted as letter-carriers and messengers are not permitted to travel through the Pelennor Fields to reach the White City. Denathor has deemed it too dangerous. Not only will I not hear from my father for the unforeseeable future, but my correspondence with you will end at this letter, dear Eomer. When next I find an opportunity to send anything to Rohan, I will take it. Perhaps I will befriend a messenger with letters for Theoden from Denathor and I can sneak one to you in his pockets. Alas, I can only dream. And in dreams will my thoughts of you have to preside for now.

My father has agreed to receive letters from you to me in Dol Amroth, should you choose to continue writing, as Imrahil cannot fathom a messenger ban in Belfalas. Of course, I will not be able to receive them, but I can hope for the comfort of your words as a return gift when the time comes.

Please understand the pain this causes me. These last few years of correspondence has meant more to me than you will ever know. In these letters, we have formed a bond that cannot and should not be broken by the pulls of oncoming war. I pray to Ulmo and Orome alike that you live through each day of your patrols. That you find comfort in small things like the cushions of a bed, or the sweet taste of your aunt's honey cakes. Perhaps I will find small comforts in Minas Tirith and hope that, all those leagues away, you are finding peace in this war, through the small comforts. These letters have been my source of comfort over the last few years. Now, I am determined to find more to be grateful for in the coming days. I can only hope you do the same.

With all my love,

Luna

Dated: August 19, 3017

Mîn dêor−wierðe frêogan Luna,

Writing to you and knowing you may never read the words does not give me comfort. What gives me comfort in these times is believing that you are alive in Minas Tirith. Knowing I can write freely without waiting for a response from you is freeing, but not a comfort.

Alas, I have done what you wished of me. I taste honey cakes and think of you. I brew Simbelmynë tea and think of you. I see my housekeeper's daughter play with blue paint and I think of you. You are my small comforts in these dark times and I cannot even tell you. My messenger Ceorl was well aware of the ban to Minas Tirith. Only my uncle's personal messenger is allowed to travel the roads to the White City and there is no way to sneak a letter in his direction. Not when he is under Grima Wormtongue's command. I fear for Rohan in his care as my uncle grows further and further from his own mind. Theodred wished to take a stand at his father's side, but the attacks on the Hornburg and the nearby Fords of Isen keep his sword in his hands every day now.

It has been almost two months since more than a night has gone by without me slaying an Orc. Every time I see one fall, the memories of my father's face flash before my eyes and anger consumes me. And I return to Aldburg's fortress with no comfort and I struggle to do as you have asked of me. I sink into a hot bath and I think of you. My second in command, Eothain, returns and kisses his wife and I think of you.

I think of the kiss I wanted to share with you all those years ago. I regret holding back and being a gentleman. Perhaps this is selfish of me. I do not care. What I would not give to know now what that kiss would have been like. What taste you would have had on my lips. What it would have felt like to hold more of you than just your hand.

There is some comfort knowing that you may never read this letter. I never would have written that had I known you would be reading it in a months time. I do not think myself a coward, but I tremble at the thought of sharing those secrets with you. Even now, my hand shakes as I write these truths I never intended for you to know. But you told me once you admired my courage. Shall I share another?

In the early days of our correspondence, before Orcs and Wildmen and Corsairs, I imagined traveling to Dol Amroth. I imagined you falling in love with me through these letters we shared. When I arrived, I would court you in a manner befitting a Gondorian Lady. I would ask Callum permission to marry you. I would grant him and Melyanna travel to Rohan whenever pleased them. I would have worked with uncle to strengthen Rohan's relationship with Dol Amroth so that Imrahil would have reason to visit with your parents or Lothiriel. Before the days of Orcs, Wildmen, and Corsairs I had a plan, Luna. A plan that will never come to fruition with this war that overtakes the lands of Men, even as I try to write this.

Wormtongue does not recognize this as a time of war. He counsels my uncle to rely on the assistance of Saruman the White who resides at Orthanc in Isengard, heading the Gap of Rohan. Gandalf the Grey, once a trusted advisor to my uncle, has been banned from Rohan, as all travelers have been. Lathspell, Grima called him. A public enemy to Rohan.

Oh how I wish for the comfort of knowing a response would come from you, yet I know it does no good to even write those words. This is not your fault. I know you do not wish to travel to Minas Tirith.

That is where I will leave this letter. I have already said more than I ever promised myself I would.

Mid hold mîn frêondlufu,

Eomer


Grima lowered the letter from his eyes and looked back at Ceorl. "You've done well bringing this to me, boy."

Ceorl kept his face still as stone. "Of course, my lord."

"Any future correspondence Lord Eomer makes outside of Rohan, I want delivered to me. Theoden King worries for his nephew's priorities. Those lie with defending Rohan's lands from these awful attacks, not in silly love letters to Gondorian nobodies, understood?"

"Of course, my lord," Ceorl repeated. "Is there anything else I can do for the King's House?"

"Little more than keep your mouth shut on this matter to Lord Eomer. I would hate for your poor mother to find herself in the path of an Orc or a Wildman just happening to be roaming on the outskirts near her farm. Now, run along. Deliver your master's silly letter." Ceorl did not hesitate before nearly running from Womrtongue's office.

"Hama!" Grima barked towards the door.

"Yes, my lord?" the old doorward said, stepping gingerly through the door frame.

"Another name is to be added to the travel-ban list. Immediate arrest made if she finds herself inside Rohan's borders."

"The name, my lord?"

"Luna, Daughter of Callum. A citizen of Gondor. Make her warrant equivalent to that of Gandalf the Grey. I will write to Lord Saruman. Our closest ally must know the name of Rohan's newest enemy."