For Author's note and Disclaimer, see chapter 1

Chapter 2

As the Queen of Rohan steered her horse up the streets of Minas Tirith the people on the streets bowed their heads to her and Lothíriel smiled softly at them in turn. With Gamling by her side she was making it for the highest circle, smiling as she came to the stable yard there and saw the lady in the flowing gown of pale yellow. "Éowyn, sister…" she greeted her with warmth.

"Lothíriel, have my uncouth cur of a brother forsaken you?" Éowyn asked, looking behind her as if expecting to see the King of Rohan there. Since his horse was following idly behind Lothíriel it would not have been an unreasonable assumption.

"Nay, but the Captain of the Citadel Guard requested our men were housed in the barracks on the lower level. Éomer did not wish me nor Firefoot to suffer the sun and heat and bade me to continue without him," she smiled. "He did send Gamling with me, to ensure my safety, though I am sure I would not need it."

"You would not, but it is only proper," Éowyn decided. "And you, my sister, now ride like a true Rohan, or at least as close as one not Rohan born can ever be expected to." Éowyn ran a critical eye over her blue dress, cut for riding in a way her dresses had not been before.

"I fear I was a very poor rider, and I felt ashamed. Your brother was most kind though," she smiled. "After he very near scared me to death while demonstrating his own skills, he improved mine," she took the reins of her own horse, trusting her husband's magnificent steed to follow her as indeed he did.

"And Firefoot will heed you?" Éowyn seemed surprised at that. "He will obey only one master."

"And that is only my husband," she agreed. "But as we both love Éomer dearly, he will allow me to care for him to some measure." She reached out to scratch the horse behind the ear, and Firefoot leaned his head into her touch with pleasure. "But he has suffered me on his back only once, and that was when Éomer lifted me to sit afore him. And I fear Firefoot was most displeased with him for my clumsiness."

"But he allowed you?" Éowyn frowned. "My sister, he will not even let me ride him. The only one to ever be allowed to ride him aside from Éomer was our cousin Théodred, and I think it was only because Éomer bade him to. Our Uncle gave him to Éomer when he was still an unborn foal, and my brother slept in the stable for a fortnight before he was to be born, and then a fortnight after as well. There is no measure of the true value of a horse from his line." She shook her head, amazed by the way Firefoot seemed content with Lothíriel.

"Éomer never told me he slept in the stable," Lothíriel gave a delighted giggle. "But it is no surprise to me that he would do so. I know the bond between him and Firefoot, and I would never seek to impose upon it, but I feel very much safe with Firefoot near me, and I know it was an honor he suffered me on his back if so even once, and he was not at all too pleased about it. I feel no jealousy for their bond, for I know they have shared much hardship together."

"You put me in a poor light, sister," Éowyn shook her head sadly. "For at a time, I fear I did… I found it most unfair that such a gift was bestowed on Éomer when I knew it would never be on me. I would not see how being born a man would make him the better."

"I have brothers of my own, I was not always pleased with my role," Lothíriel shrugged as they entered the cool stable and Firefoot gave the stable hand a suspicious look. Dancing away as the young man approached him. "Firefoot, Éomer would want you to behave," she chided the big horse gently and he tossed his head with a snort, stomping an impatient hoof on the stone floor.

"I was shield maiden," Éowyn shook her head. "I did not like the role of sewing and cooking, I was at times jealous of my brother, and I fear I sometimes took out my anger over the perceived unfairness on him."

"If you did, I do not think he harbors any ill feelings for it," Lothíriel decided.

"My uncle was our King and liege, and my cousin was his heir," Éowyn shrugged. "There was no other but Éomer I could seek vengeance for the slight on, and Éomer could be somewhat bruteish at times. But I learned my lesson to never seek to lay any claim on his horse," she gave Firefoot a rueful look. "If he allowed you, even once, you know not how fortunate you are, for he will not suffer me ever I fear… as I once sought to do so for my own winning."

The sword she carried was a practice sword and Éwoyn at times scoffed at that. It was not fair that the one her brother carried was a real and finely crafted one. Gúthwinë was a real sword, she would like as not never carry a sword that had a name, and it chafed her pride. It especially did so at times like this day when she had been scolded because her needlework was not fine enough. She was not always what was expected of a lady of the court, but neither was she a man, and it was not fair that it was all so easy for her brother. He was gifted with both sword and horse.

Firefoot was no ordinary horse, not even for a Rohan horse, Firefoot was of the Maeras, the finest line of horses there was, and not even born when their King Théoden gave the foal to Éomer.

It angered her, and she kicked angrily at the straw lying by her feet. She would tell herself she would not have minded so much if it had been only because Éomer was the older. She could then have believed the same honor would come to her in time. It was not so though, it was only because he was a man.

She was allowed to train and she was allowed to ride, but she was never allowed quite the same honor as her brother, and it caused her no little grief and anger. To see him walk into the Golden Hall, so proud and sure of himself. She scoffed at the image of the sun gleaming on the helmet on his head. He had not worn it long enough to think so much of himself as she was certain he must do.

He was not much more than a child himself, he had not seen enough winters yet to be a man, but Théoden doted on him, gifting him the horse as if Éomer to had been his son, and not just his nephew, the same as she was his nice.

It did not help her mood to walk to the stable and see Firefoot there waiting for his master. As patient as Firefoot ever was, for the horse had spirit. Éomer had trained him well, she had to admit, for at times she was not sure if Firefoot saw himself as a horse, or if he believed himself to be far above all the others in the stable. Only to Snowmane and Brego, Théoden and Théodred's horses did he seem to defer.

Wearing saddle and bridle already he stood easily with no rope to hold him. Tossing his head as if impatient at times, regarding the stable hands with a wary eye if they came too close. No, Firefoot did not think himself a mere lowly horse she knew, Firefoot was lord and master of the rest, to full of pride, just like her furiously aggravating brother. Had not Firefoot escaped the stable and sought to take himself into the hall the winter when Éomer was sick with the fever, and had not even Théodred at the time been forced to defer to the will of the horse? Firefoot would know where his master had gone, and would not let himself be stopped.

Firefoot was regarded highly of all the Rohirrim and it was not fair, and she told herself in her anger she should have every right to such a horse that her cur of a brother had.

Angrily she strode to the horse, did not Firefoot suffer her to brush him when the stable hands were not allowed? Did he not let her give him apples from her hand, and did she not by birth have the same royal lineage as he brother did? Not the rights that Théodred had as first and only son of the king, but the royal blood just the same, and was she not a shield maiden that should be in every way Éomer's equal?

She would prove her worth, she would ride Firefoot up to the hall, bring him to her brother as he would not let himself be led by just anyone. She would have him waiting there for her brother when he came out for his patrol and they would be forced to admit that she was every bit as much a rider as her brother was.

Her mind made up she checked the sword by her side, and swung herself in the saddle.

Firefoot tossed his head with an indignant snort, and turned his big head to look at her, snorting again as she commanded him forward.

He did not attempt to throw her, but lumbered into an uneven gait that made it difficult for her to find her seat in the saddle. Before she could check him, he took the bit between his teeth, and turning big reproachful eyes on her once more he strode behind the stable.

As she tried to turn his head, to command him with her knees as she knew he was well trained to do the magnificent horse paid her no heed. Instead he made for the dungheap, and by bending one knee and shifting his weight to the side he unseated her at the very edge of it.

Taken by surprise she found herself unseated as she had not been in many years, not only that, but tossing his head once more he gave her the most disappointed look before turning to make his way to the front of the stable again.

As she climbed to her feet with her skirt stained and her cheeks burning with rage and shame she came around in time to see him scratch his neck leisurely against a post.

Furious and humiliated she made for the Golden Hall, well knowing the evidence of what had transpired, at least in part, was clearly seen and read by all that laid eyes upon her.

Seeing her brother standing there, looking so tall, proud and smug was more than she could bear and she stalked over to him. Théodred stood by his side, frowning as he beheld his cousin, and Théoden on his throne gave her a look of concern, but she only had eyes for her brother. Her insufferable brother and his insufferable attitude of insufferable perfectness and she would not stand for the unfairness of it all for a moment longer…!

"Éowyn?" Èomer noted her disheveled appearance and started to reach out a hand to her, concern on his face as well now, and he had no right to seem worried for her when it was all his fault for being first born and man at that anyway.

"You despicable cur!" holding her practice sword by the hilt she swung it down to strike his booted foot with the scabbard.

Not having been at all ready for the attack he gave a howl and snatched the foot up. Her anger might have been somewhat appeased by the act, if she had not seen her scabbard break. It was a fine scabbard, two horse heads at the tip of it, and as she struck his foot, the tip of the scabbard struck the floor and one of the horse heads had snapped off to skid across the floor. Angrier even that she had destroyed something she did treasure she swung the sword and scabbard up, hitting the helmet on his head with a heavy blow that jarred the bone in her arm.

The metal on metal and the loud ring satisfied her anger somewhat as he dropped to one knee with a cry and clutched at his head with his hands.

"You hateful...boy…!" she gave his chin a kick for good measure, though the way he was still holding his head she doubted he even knew it as she stormed out of the Hall and towards her chamber. The heavy shin guards would have protected him from any real harm, and as thick headed as he was she doubted she could have done him any harm, and it felt good to vent her anger.

Throwing a look over her shoulder she saw Théodred help his cousin back to his feet and she stuck out her tongue his way before turning around the corner.

Èomer was fumbling at the helmet strap, ears ringing when it was lifted from his head and he blinked to bring his cousin into focus. "How did you anger her this time, pray tell?" Théodred mused as he watched his cousin sway slightly.

"I have done nothing to her!" Éomer cried with indignation as he sought to place his foot on the floor and lifted it again with a wince, near falling as his head was spinning still and aching with the blow. Théodred put a hand to his shoulder to steady him and he grasped his arm in turn the better to not have to put any weight on his foot.

"Éomer," Théoden sighed softly. "You will learn my lad, that sometimes all that a man needs to do to anger a woman, is to be a man. Like as not, whatever slight you have done to offend her so, you would not be able to reason for yourself if you tried a hundred years."

"That is insane," the young man cried out with indignation.

"My lad, it is the way of the world, and the sooner you learn it the better for you," Théoden shook his head as he regarded the boy, for he was a boy. Wearing the armor of the Rohirrim, he was not much more than a child still. Younger than he should have been, but Wild Men were terrorizing their farms, Orcs had come to move across the land and the people needed to see their leaders ride to their aid. Éomer was more skilled than some with twice his age on the back of a horse. He had proven his worth with Gúthwinë, though Théoden would rather neither of the lads in front of him would ever have had to do so. "Can you ride lad, or do you need the healer?" for looking at him Théoden noted he seemed most reluctant to put his foot down, and Théodred still steadied him from time to time with a hand on the shoulder and a bemused look on his face.

"I can ride!" Éomer's voice was sharp with anger. The indignance of youth and Théoden shook his head, sadness laying like a heavy burden across his shoulders. Not much more than a child, and already trying so hard to be all that was asked of him. Théoden knew how his sister envied him, but what Éomer was yet to see was that his sister also feared for him. She had seen their father rally to their banner, and be carried home under it… They had both seen what the loss did to their mother, and Éowyn most certainly feared losing her brother the same way. No doubt some of her anger and envy was born out of a deep seated fear. She truly loved her brother, and Èomer rode to fight for land and lord, and it would be days before Éowyn knew if he had survived it or not.

"Then do so, and when you return I think you shall find your sister has had time to calm herself….." He certainly hoped so, for she had a strong arm. "I will see you on your return, Éomer."

"My Lord," Èomer bowed his head before he turned. Swaying slightly as he did so and Théodred shook his head with an amused smile as he pressed the helmet into his cousins arm. Shaking his head as he watched him limp down the hall, wavering slightly from side to side after every few paces.

"I hope his head clears before he tries to mount his horse," he shook his head as he smiled at his father. "And I am ever so glad that I am protected from my cousins temper. Father, mayhap you should have word with her? Éomer is striving very hard to gain the respect of his men, and I am not certain it shall be easier for them seeing him beaten about by his sister…"

"Most of the men have sisters of their own, I do not think he will lose much standing," Théoden mused. "But I will have a word with her, once she has had time to calm herself. Éomer is a valuable Rider, I will not have him compromised because she feels slighted."

"But neither are you willing to turn her anger upon yourself," Théodred laughed. "I do not blame you father, for I admit to feeling the same way myself."

"Go make certain he really is well enough to ride, and I will worry about my niece," Théoden decided. It was hard to be young, and not for all the horses on his lands was he willing to go through it again…

Éowyn shook her head as she regarded her brother's horse again, she had at times been unfair to him, but she told herself that he had not been above flaws himself.

"I think that Firefoot is oft forgiving, as long as you do not try to do any real harm to Éomer," Lothíriel smiled gently as she scratched the big mule and Éowyn noticed how Firefoot not only allowed, but seemed to delight in her touch. "Shall we find you an apple my friend? Tis a hot day and we have ridden far, and I will not tell my husband if you do not."

"There is a barrel of them in the stable, and cool apple cider for us to refresh yourself, for I'm certain you suffer the heat as well," Èowyn decided.

"Most certainly so," Lothíriel agreed as Gamling unsaddled their horses and she selected a couple of fine apples from the barrel. Giving one to Firefoot she gave one to her own mare. "And if I know my husband, he will be grateful if there is some bread and cheese as well. We did not wish to burden the horses, so we only brought what was needed."

"I will see to that it is brought into the garden," Èowyn decided. "It is cool enough there, and the air is fresh. And we shall have a most delightful visit."

"And I am very much looking forward to it," Lothíriel smiled as she patted the horses a last time before following her sister from the stable. A mug of cool cider and a little bread, cheese and fruit would be just what she needed to refresh herself after the ride. Then she would most certainly enjoy the time with not only Éowyn, but her cousin Faramir as well.

A Temporary End

Thank you all who's read and reviewed, the Cricket is thrilled...

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.