Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. I am only playing with the fandom for the enjoyment of myself as well as others.
Author's note: Take care that a spew warning might apply and be cautious when handling food and liquids while reading this.
Chapter 66
Entering the royal stable in Minas Tirith the Queen Arwen easily found her husband. It was rare he was in any other part of the building but where their own horses resided. It was early morning, and the stable was quiet and calm, the horses still taking their rest. Soon, they would have their morning oats and hay and would move about in their stalls. Now though, there was barely a trickle of sunlight in the dusk though a stray glimmer of light even now broke the darkness. Dust danced in the sunray, merrily in the early morning light.
"I had thought Éomer would be with you, husband," she smiled softly as she stood by the gate to the stall. Her husband was indeed just putting the brush down as he had tended to Brego.
"He was delayed, Lord Forsewenlic noticed he had arrived, and had some matters of uttermost urgency he wished to discuss with him," Aragorn shrugged.
"And you left Éomer with him," she frowned. "I am not certain I approve. I think you have acted rather cruelly."
"To Éomer or to Lord Forsewenlilc?" Aragorn mused?
"Estel," the name held a warning tone and he gave a guilty shrug. The lord hailed from close to the border between Rohan and Gondor, and so saw fit to meddle in the affairs of both Kingdoms as he so chose. Neither Aragorn nor Éomer could really stand the man, he had few sympathizers in the court, though most saw him as an amusement, as long as he bothered someone else.
"The lord insisted," he shrugged. "And Éomer carries Gúthwinë. I should say he is able to defend himself."
"I still think it is very cruel of you," Arwen stated. "Éomer is a guest, and a dear friend, he shan't be happy."
"That is true, though I hope he takes his grievance out on the lord and not on me," Aragorn mused. "Beloved, I believe Éomer better to handle the man than am I. For I have not yet found a way to discourage him, and Éomer can be very persuasive when he wishes. I have not met many who can withstand that scowl of his."
"Éomer is a guest in our home, and as such will not be able to discourage the man as he might wish," Arwen pursed her lips. "Oh, I am well aware of his temper, husband, but has it escaped your notice he is much calmer these days? You have acted unfairly."
"He is a little calmer, is he not?" Aragorn mused. "Sometimes I forget, I still remember the hot headed young man so clearly. In truth I think I miss him, it was easier times."
"Aye, so it was," Arwen smiled. "I am very fond of him you know, I shan't take it lightly if you treat him so."
"If I may offer my defence, I feel him still very much able to speak his mind if he wishes, and I would rather it's Éomer than Faramir that the fool angers," Aragorn mused. "Faramir still will try and negotiate and placate him, Éomer will not."
"Very well, but even so I should hope you apologize to him," Arwen stated as Aragorn left the stall. "I had wished for to be introduced to Æledwinë and Æfenweard."
"Æledwinë I shall leave to Éomer, but to Æfenweard I shall be able to introduce you," thinking of the two young horses brought a smile to his face. "They are of Firefoot, and there is no mistaking it. Æledwinë shows such spirit, though his colour is near pure black, I should have sworn it was Firefoot himself. I never saw such beauty as Æfenweard, she is indeed remarkable."
"And yet you allowed the poor man to be accosted by Lord, Forsewenlic," Arwen shook her head again. "He is despicable, I do not care for him at all, and I shall have to find some way to make reparations to poor Éomer."
"I feel you raise a valid point, I shall apologize to him," Aragorn nodded. It was a poor way to repay such a gift as he had been given.
As they approached the stalls of the two young horses, both raised their heads. Æfenweard nickered a greeting that had Aragorn smile, then the horse did something that took him completely by surprise. As the roan laid eyes on Queen Arwen, she put one foreleg in front of her, bending down and lowering her head, the other foreleg she cocked and bent back to touch hoof to the ground in an elegant and graceful bow. He chin near touched her hoof as deep as she bowed, holding the position for a brief moment before she rose again and shook her head.
"Oh my!" it was with pure delight Arwen clasped her hands together. Æledwinë watching from the next stall whickered happily as he pranced in his stall. Finally, he came to a graceful if more reluctant bow similar to that his sister had performed.
"Éomer must have trained her to that," Aragorn shook his head in amusement. "I was not aware of the fact."
"It is so sweet, silly, but so sweet," Arwen laughed, her voice like clear bells. "Oh, and to think you were so cruel to him, he really does take such care with the horses. How would she even have known me?"
"How could she not know such beauty?" the voice from behind them caused both to turn their head to see the King of Rohan. "Though I confess I agree fully with your words, my Queen, your husband is a scoundrel to run for safety and leave others to suffer…"
"I am quite cross with him for the matter," Arwen agreed. "He says it was not from malice."
"Nay, from cowardice I would say, for he slunk off like a thief in the night," Éomer snorted. "Leaving me no means of escape for myself. I had not thought you would sink so low, but alas it seems I was mistaken."
"My act was of pure self-defence," Aragorn raised his hands. "I felt you would find some way to rid yourself of the vile creature."
"Aye, though it was not easy," the blonde warrior shook his head ruefully. "The man is incapable of taking a hint, and I was even more straightforward than my own dear wife would approve of, in the end, I fear I had to be quite blunt."
"Oh?" Aragorn found himself raising a questioning eyebrow.
"I asked if he would prefer to shut up for himself, or if I should do it for him," Éomer shrugged. "The rest I refuse to repeat in such delightful company as the lady, but it would seem it finally got my message across."
"Given what I know of the man, I would assume you were more than justified in your words," Arwen stated. "And I am doubly glad for to have your company, I would beseech you, please introduce me to this young one," she indicated Æledwinë where the young stallion whickered a greeting. "Such a delightful greeting as Æfenweard granted me I have seldom been granted."
"Aye, she is a rare beauty," Éomer nodded. "To train her has been a delight, I shall miss her, but she shall be well loved here I know."
"On that you have my word," Arwen stated firmly, leaving no room for Aragorn to speak for himself. "Pray tell me though, how did she know me? She has never beheld me, or will she bow so to any lady?"
"Nay," Éomer shook his head, a rare smile and an even rare hint of a blush spreading over his features. "'Tis is meant for you alone, but I pray do not feel slighted should she do so for Lothíriel, for I did indeed have her to assist me. For the rest, t'was the shawl you gifted my wife. It still carried much of your scent on it, and she knows it now very well."
"I am honoured," Arwen smiled softly. "From a horse lord, I know of no grater honour." Moving forward to greet the young mare fully she stroked the velvet nose. The young horse delighted in her touch, eagerly pushing her nose into her hand for a longer caress.
Finally, with a last good scratch behind the ear Arwen stepped aside. "And this young gentleman?" she queried as she turned to the black horse. "Will you introduce me so that I may greet him?"
"Aye, this black devil is Æledwinë," Éomer nodded. "He is his father's son and he shall see to it that the whole world knows it. Never has anyone but Firefoot managed to throw me so," he shook his head fondly.
If he were to be truthful, Aragorn wondered if Éomer was not truly skilled enough to avoid it. It might be, that though the blonde warrior was not aware of it himself, he would on occasion allow the young horse to throw him for the fond memories he had of Firefoot in his youth. It would not be so strange that he on occasion was swayed by emotions and memories. The Rohirric were a passionate people. It would indeed not be so strange for Éomer to have such fond thoughts of his first war horse throwing him, while he himself might not have felt the same enthusiasm.
Had he asked him, Éothain would most likely have given the same answer, speaking of the spirit of the horse more than the pain of the bruises. With Éomer's introduction, Æledwinë pushed his nose forward for his own greeting. Earning himself a good scratch on the white star he took a mouthful of her dress to chew.
"Æledwinë!" Éomer's voice was sharp. "Cease that, you dolt, have you no manners?"
In a manner that was most peculiar for a horse, the black tilted his head upwards to look at his master, quizzically with a mouthful of dress still in his teeth.
"Oh, there is no harm done," Arwen laughed, though she gently freed her dress. "He really is such a dear."
"He is a menace, as was his sire," Éomer shrugged. "He is also intelligent and cunning, the little devil. Lothíriel will abide to his every whim, and he knows how to make use of it."
"Then you will forgive me for wishing to stay in his good favour," with a soft smile Arwen withdrew two apples from the folds of her dress. Holding one out to each horse.
"I suppose I know better than to object, for even if I do, you shall still see him spoiled," Éomer mused..
"Horses this sweet deserves a bit of spoiling at times," Arwen smiled. "I've ensured that there is food so you can break your fast, I do not think either one of you did before coming here." There was a light tone of chastisement in her voice that saw both men drop their eyes.
"I suppose we should have something to eat before we ride out," Aragorn mused. "Admittedly, I am somewhat hungry." He looked to his friend who shrugged. Oft had the Rohir claimed to be an opportunistic eater who'd gladly partake whenever it was offered, for one never knew when the chance might present itself again.
"Come then, and we shall have a delightful ride later," Aragorn smiled.
"I shall join you in a moment," Éomer shrugged. "When I say Æledwinë is very much the son of his sire, I speak not in jest. Your stable hands shall not thank you if I leave it to them to tend to him."
"And though I have no proof yet, I feel I should do the same," Aragorn smiled. "We shall not be long beloved." It did not take the two men long to bring the horses fresh water and oats. Both already had plenty of fresh straw in their stalls and hay to eat. With a last good scratch to the velvety nose Aragorn started for the stable door. "Time we had our own share of oats," he mused. "Though crushed and boiled as they are."
"If you think I'll suffer that idiot further during the meal, I shall gladly take mine here in the stable where the company is better," Éomer snorted as he followed.
"He usually prefers to break his fast in his own chambers, and if not, I shall see if we can prevail upon the queen to keep you safe," Aragorn shrugged. "I think you stand better in her favour than do I at the moment."
"You did skulk away while I could not," the blonde warrior snorted. There was no hard feelings between the two, this Aragorn knew well. Though he had to admit to himself his action had been somewhat cowardly. It was perhaps fortunate for him that the Rohir did not tend to favour petty revenge. Even so, he knew how to make amends. "After the meal, I think I shall see if I can not persuade Faramir to deal with some of that infernal paper work. That way we may pack our lunch and stay away all the longer."
"My friend, finally you speak sense," Éomer barked a laugh that startled a courtier as the two made their way into the palace.
A Temporary End... Please review, the Cricket is hungry...
Additional Author's note: Some of these stories might not fit into the Tolkien timeline, I apologise for this, I have not yet been able to procure an English copy, and therefor there has been things I was unaware of while writing. Some I've changed, some I've left as I liked them.
Most of the Rohirric I use, is, as I believe Tolkien himself used, Old English. Though some is modern Swedish, as, frighteningly enough, these are quite often the same. In order to give the story a more pleasant flow for the reader, I have opted not to use a glossary at the end, rather, I try to make the meaning very clear in the story.