For main Disclaimer and Author's note, see chapter 1

Chapter 11

The home Faramir had built for himself and his wife in Emyn Arnen was a fine place that suited their needs well. It was clear to everyone that Faramir had thought much of his wife when it was constructed, for the stable was near as magnificent as was the house. Built out of stone to be more easily defendable there was a large garden on one side, a stone courtyard and the stable with more smaller buildings to the side. While the stone stood stronger, much inside the house was warm wood. Carved pillars so that Éowyn would feel the better at home. Horseheads as those in Meduseld in the wood by the rafters, the white tree of Gondor etched into the stone. It was a home where Gondor and Rohan both felt welcome. The large hall had green drapes hanging on the stone wall, and furs laying on the floor. Aragorn had seen their bedchamber but once, and it was a splendid room. Warm furs by the finely carved bed, the horses more prominent here, and he knew Faramir had done this for his wife. The headboard was carved with running horses, the mantelpiece over the hearth the same. He had taken her from her people when he wed her, but he had never sought to make her less than a Rohir.

There were more bedchambers for guests, one of which he had known Faramir had meant so that his wife's brother and his own cousin would always feel welcomed. The wooden pillars by the outer wall had carved horse heads. The chamber had one door into the house, and one out into the garden. Over both doors the wooden frames were carved in horse heads. The drapes hung to soften the stark bareness of the stone wall were the same green as the banner of Rohan. This had been so that their family would always be welcomed like family. Lothiriel would love the garden with the stone seat and a small spring feeding fresh water to the flower beds, but also a source of water if attacked and under siege.

Their home was beautiful, but also practical and a place of warmth and welcome.

When Éomer's horse had appeared without its rider in Minas Tirith Aragorn had truly feared for him, and though there had been no attack aimed at the King, his plight had been no less dire. Stopping to ask for water on a small farm he had been the victim of the farmers supreme idiocy. Never warning the man that had stoped that his well was dry, and that nothing save some slender branches covered the one he was digging, Éomer had stepped unknowing onto the branches.

Injured in the fall and finding himself on the bottom of a well from which he could not climb up his anger had been palpable, and the farmer had decided he feared his ire too much to help him up. Arguing his case he had only meant for to leave him there until he was more reasonable and willing to forgive the incident. As Éomer's anger had never lessened for being forced to remain in the pit, the farmer had proceeded to leave him there, and to add further insult, had sought to make Firefoot pull his plow.

In this they were fortunate for it was that which allowed Firefoot to escape and make his way for Minas Tirith, to find help for his master.

At the time which they arrived Aragorn had almost feared it was too late for Éomer had not been given enough of either water nor food. While he would not surrender to reason and allow himself to be taken on a stretcher or even wagon, it was clear the ride to Emyn Arnen had nearly been more than he could manage. His ankle broken and his knee injured Aragorn had splinted his leg, and while the Rohan had with difficulty pulled himself into the saddle, by the time they arrived in the courtyard he was unable to dismount without aid and it took Aragorn and Faramir both to aid him into the house and the bedchamber.

It was pain and famish that sapped his strength so badly, and little enough they could do about it. Broth and bread was provided, but for the pain all that Aragorn could offer was cold compresses on the splinted leg.

Knowing the reason for his refusal to take any healing brew Aragorn would not argue with him, it would only cause further distress and mistrust between them. It was not Éomer's fault but something that had been done to him as a child, and Aragorn knew well how deep those acts could scar.

Settled in the bed, with cold compresses on the leg and one his brow for a fever caused by pain and neglect Aragorn was content to leave most of his care to his sister. Èowyn was distressed over the harm that had befallen her brother, and as they had brought the farmer with them to hold him responsible for his careless act, Aragorn felt it was best to keep him far away from Éowyn.

Had they allowed her free access to the foolish man, he would at the very least most likely have found himself gelded. Never before as far as Aragorn knew had a man been put on trial for being an idiot, but given the danger he had presented to anyone arriving at his farm, it was needed.

A messenger had been sent to Rohan to fetch Éomer's wife as they knew she would want to be with her husband, though Aragorn was much relieved he was improved enough by then to at least sit up in bed against the pillows. Grating already about his immobility, though struggling to accept it and be pleasant towards his hosts in spite of it.

It was not so strange that he was slightly irritable Aragorn mused. Starved still and yet at every turn told he must not eat his fill as he wanted, but take it slow. With no distraction from the hunger and pain unless someone was with him. Had it been himself he would have made use of the library Faramir kept by his study, a quite fine collection of books, but this was hardly suitable for the young king of Rohan.

As one of the royal line Èomer had been taught Westron and could express himself as eloquently as in his native tongue. He had been tutored how to read and write it as well, no doubt through the blood, sweat and tears of his tutors…. The land of Rohan while having a way to write their language only very rarely used it. Most documents needed by the King would be in Westron, but they were few and far between in a country where a man's word was binding. There were only a handful of books in all of Meduseld, and the ink would dry in their bottles as it was not used. As Éomer had once bitterly pointed out when Aragorn noted how slow his writing was, he was neither illiterate nor an idiot, but they had little use for it, and his hand was slow and painful on every document he wrote or signed. He knew well enough to read and there was no fear he would not understand the meaning, but it was not natural for him and would never be a thing he might do for pleasure.

To give him a book to occupy his mind while his body healed would have been a mockery and an insult. It was kinder to leave him with no other company than his own thoughts. Even so he was not a demanding patient, or strove not to be. He kept his tongue civil and his tone as pleasant as he was able. There was no anger directed towards those who tried to take care of him, only frustration over his own weakness that dampened his mood and cast his thoughts in heavy darkness.

After a mere few days his appetite failed him and Aragorn had to admit to worry as melancholy threatened to overtake him. The doors to the garden were opened in the hope to lift his spirit with the sunshine and fragrance of flowers and grass.

While it seemed to work, Aragorn felt it was only because he sensed a means of escape…

When Aragorn entered the room with a bowl of soup he found him struggling to manage his unyielding leg to make it outside into the garden. Shaking his head he sat the bowl down on the table and walked over to him. "I would not advise it, if you had a fall now, you would only injure yourself further. You need to rest Èomer, no matter how aggravating you find it."

"I am fine," the stubborn reply came in a short tone though he did not attempt anything further as Aragorn laid an arm around his waist to steady him.

"Be glad it was me, and not your wife or sister," the king of Gondor stated.

"There is not much my sister can do to me at the moment, to make me feel more wretched than I do already," Èomer snorted. "I had only thought to get some air."

"In a little while, we can aid you to do so," another week or so and Aragorn would deem it safe as long as he had someone to support him.

"I am uncertain if I believe you," the reluctant patient muttered as he was eased down on the bed again, a pained groan escaping him as Aragorn lifted the unyielding leg to help him settle.

"The word of a king," Aragorn smiled softly. "As soon as it is safe for you to do so." He sought to hide his worry from his friend, though he did worry. Not just about a fall, though that could indeed cause permanent injury. He worried about forcing him to remain inactive as well. The mother of Éomer and Éowyn had died from grief it was said. Once their father had been killed in battle with Orcs, she had given up. She had taken her children with her to Edoras and lingered there for a short time. What little Éomer said of her had only offered him a little understanding, though Éowyn spoke of her more. She had been a woman of somewhat poor health, and the birth of her first child had not been easy. Though a few years later to allow her to regain her strength, the birth of the second child had not been much easier. Once her husband had died they said it was grief that caused her to follow, though what Aragorn knew was that depression and melancholy of that magnitude was often inherited by the children. It would not have been grief alone, it would have been an illness of a mind plagued by sickness as well as the body was.

If their mother had suffered from this malady, it was possible, even likely that her children would be to some extent affected as well, even if they did not know it yet. Éomer's dejected demour from being bedridden certainly leant credit to the theory.

His words failed to install any sense of cheer in the young man, and he did not eat much of the food.

"I beg you, do not attempt this again," he urged as he took the bowl, nearly full still though now cold and unappetizing.

"I am weary, I shall sleep I think…" Éomer decided, pushing Aragorn's hand away as he moved to help him lie down.

There was nothing Aragorn could do then but to leave him and hope good sense would prevail, though at this time it did not seem very likely. He was at a loss of what to do, and how to ensure that the young warrior did not attempt escaping his bed, when in truth he feared him remaining in it the same.

It was still a dilemma heavy on his mind the next day when a commotion from the garden caused him to move to the door. A horse, neighing in the garden though no horse should have been taken there. Going to investigate he found himself smiling.

In the doorframe to his room, steadying himself against the wood, and cursing in his native tongue stood Éomer, while in the garden Firefoot danced about, neighing loudly as if to alert the others to his foolhardy behavior.

"Even your steed it seems, knows to want to keep you safe, horsemaster…" Aragorn smiled softly as he stood beside him.

"A damnable traitor…" Èomer gave his mount a glare.

"He must have escaped the stable," Aragorn paused, leaving the young king where he was to scratch the horse between the air as he always seemed to enjoy. "He's been very restless."

"He should go back to the stable and mind his own business," with a last glare at his horse Éomer allowed himself to be guided back inside.

"Given how this is the same creature, who took it upon himself to fetch you aid before, I would not speak against him," Aragorn chuckled. It might be in poor taste to laugh, and he was still concerned, but it would seem that trying to escape the watchful eye of his own mount put Éomer in better spirits. He was less dejected and more determined, something Aragorn felt was a good thing.

"If he did not plot against me, I would not have to," Éomer muttered, stifling a groan as Aragorn examined the splints. Pressing down on the calf and around the knee Aragorn shook his head.

"If it pains you this much still, you should not attempt to walk, you only strain it."

"I've endured worse," Èomer muttered, jaw set stubbornly. "Tis of no matter."

"It will be once your sister finds you out," he felt no shame for the threat, for Éowyn's fury was one thing that Éomer would not want to risk. At the same, he was glad if he would try enough to show he was still fighting.

Had the curses Éomer mumbled under his breath been directed at him he might have frowned, but it was clear it was over the situation and his own helplessness, so Aragorn merely patted his ankle and offered to find him something to eat. He'd lost weight and muscle tone and it would do him no harm if he ate some.

He also decided it might be for the best if Firefoot's stall was not closed.

Something that proved true the next morning as he was walking down the hall with Éowyn and Lothiriel. The queen of Rohan was carrying an apple she had meant to take to the stable when a loud neighing carried in through a window opened to the yard. Putting his head out the window to investigate the cause Aragorn shook his head and smiled fondly to himself.

"My idiotic brother is attempting foolishness again I take it?" Éowyn asked.

"Our young friend and king is attempting to free himself from our clutches," Aragorn stated with a chuckle. "For while I take your meaning, it would be poor manners of me to refer to a fellow regent in such a way."

"He is my brother, I may refer to him as I see fit," Éowyn determined.

"I feel so terribly sorry for him," Lothiriel shifted her eye between them. "It wears on him to be forced to remain abed. He does not mean to cause any trouble or worry."

"Have no fear, my lady, no one thinks differently," Aragorn placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. It had worn on the young queen to learn what had befallen her husband. To find out how he had been hurt, and then entrapped for so many days while she had not even known had dealt her a hard and cruel blow. After she was wedded to Éomer, Lothiriel had gained much more confidence and self assurance than she had had as the princess of Dol Amroth. She had truly grown, but her husband injured had brought back some of that shy, slightly insecure nature she had shown before. "We all worry about our friend, and truthfully I am glad for this, for it shows he's in better spirit. Even if I am equally glad of Firefoot and his willingness to alert us."

"Firefoot is always loyal to Éomer," Éowyn agreed. "Even sometimes when he might have wished less so. I know my brother well, he was always the same. He will not want to burden anyone with caring for him, at the same, he feels very lonely and it may make it difficult to care for him. It would oft be easier if he allowed it better, but he is my brother and I love him regardless."

"He is very sweet and attentive," Lothiriel smiled softly, comforted that no one was irritated with her husband as they continued. "Though I know he can seem loud and brash at times."

"As a King, he needs to be," Aragorn smiled. "He is young and forceful, but he is wise and he is fair. Théoden would have been proud of him."

"Our Uncle always was, even when he did something absolutely foolish…" Èowyn smiled fondly as she thought back to their youth. "As was Théodred, he thought of us as his younger siblings, and while you might not have known it, and Éomer never realized, he absolutely doted on us." She opened the door into the garden, shaking her head as Firefoot gave a loud whiny as he saw them. "Brother, have you not yet realized that is futile? she questioned when her brother came into view. The young King was supporting himself against the doorframe, giving a start at his sister's voice. With an amused snort Aragorn noted he had been much too busy cursing his horse's behavior to take note of their approach. He caught himself, but he looked unbalanced enough the King of Gondor lengthened his strides to reach him and take his arm to steady him.

"My horse is a traitor…" he glowered at the animal who shook his body from head to tail before walking closer and nudging his shoulder in seeming reproach. As Éomer failed to give him the correct amount of attention and scratches he strode over to Lothiriel instead, accepting the apple she had with much delight. "You have turned my steed against me, wife…." Éomer muttered. "Tis would seem his loyalty can be bought for a mere apple…"

"I have done no such thing, husband…" she put just an edge in her words as Aragorn with a laugh started to turn his friend around to help him back inside. "All I have done is to reward him for his loyalty to his master, even when said master is behaving most foolishly…" Lothiriel finished and Aragorn noted how Éomer's head dipped just a little in shame as he seemed to be muttering expletives under his breath.

"Two or three more days, then I think it will be safe for you to get up a little," he soothed. "At least it should be so if we are with you."

"In two or three more days I shall like as not have taken root, or reached the point where I no longer care," Éomer muttered as he was settled back into the bed. "And no doubt by then my horse shall have conveniently forgotten whom his master is."

From the doorway Firefoot could be heard to give a whinny, tossing his head when Aragorn looked that way. He had a feeling the horse missed his master and would be relieved when they did allow him out into the garden. Truthfully he felt that the two or three days he had given Éomer was much too early. He would have thought it wiser to wait much longer but knew this would not be possible if they were to keep him in good spirits. The memory of a small toddler, quiet and sullen as he regarded the world around him might have influenced him somewhat. Theodwyn had not had the energy to deal with an active son. She had often been short of temper with him, either leaving him to his own device or telling him to sit quiet and wait.

Having seen the small child sit for hours at the steps leading into Meduseld he had felt sympathy for him. The carved wooden toy that had cheered him so much back then would however not work now. In the garden he could at least while away the time by teaching Firefoot some new trick that would no doubt drive everyone else out of their mind wondering how the horse did it.

If it caused Faramir to be as confused as he oft felt himself, hence ensuring that his Steward could not smile in amusement over him, Aragorn decided he might just decide to speak for the young King being allowed up earlier after all…

A Temporary Ending

Please review, the Cricket is hungry...

Secondary Author's note: It has come to my attention that I had used an incorrect reference, I have apparently mixed up Rohan, and Rohir, my apologies. For my own sake, I wish to say this, I am dyslectic, it is very hard for me to negotiate spelling and grammar. Also, I have not yet been able to procure a copy of the Lord of the Rings books, so I've had to take my findings from the net. Unfortunately, this means I might adopt the mistakes of others.

I apologize, I wish to be correct, for this I often research, but if there is an error, I do not mind being informed. However, I must say this for me and for others. This comment was made to be hurtful rather than helpful. There is no need to be rude about it, it does not encourage to better writing, it discourages writing at all…