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

Chapter 18

As the last meal of the day was served in the great hall Théoden King looked across the table. They did not stand on ceremony in the court of Rohan as he knew many others did. The meal was usually a loud and merry affair, and at any time halfway through someone might come to join them. The Rohirrim were raised to see to their mounts first, and no Rohan would ever leave his horse in the stable, uncared for, to get to the meal earlier. No, they would see to their horses and ensure they were cared for properly, and only then would they seek their own food.

Many times when he rode with the Eored afore he was crowned king had he come to the table well after everyone else was done, picking through whatever was left to make his own meal. Many times had he seen his own son do the same. Théodred took after him, he was proud to say he recognized a lot of himself in his son. His mild temper and merry humour, his proud bearing and fair judgement when dealing with their subordinates.

Only a few things would truly anger Théodred, a man or woman who would mistreat a horse, as it would anger anyone Rohan born. Should they abuse one of the noble steeds where the King's son and heir bore witness to it, they would soon know they had erred. Any and all threats to the throne of Rohan, as was the duty of any man in their Eored. Sworn to protect the crown, no man would stand for such an act.

More personal to Théodred was his two younger cousins. Éomer and Éowyn, and Théodred did indeed dote upon them. While the girl was now ten years of age, and a fierce girl at that, happy, rambunctious and carefree. Éomer was turning fourteen and was quiet, sullen and sombre though growing very close to Théodred. Had not his son been able to reach through to the boy as he had, Théoden would have truly feared for the son of his deceased sister. He was supposed to enjoy the last few years of boyhood before he would be forced to be a man, but instead he strove to be one already.

He held such an anger towards the Orcs that was the cause of his father's demise that Théoden truly feared for him. He was not certain the boy would be able to keep a cool head the first time he faced them, and truly feared he would act rash and thoughtless, possibly enough so to be killed himself. He hardly ever smiled, and did not speak of much unless prodded by someone. Nor did he seem to spend much time with the other boys his age, aside from weapons practice and riding.

Théoden well recalled the argument he had with the boy when he turned a full forteen, unusual for the boy who always strove to show the proper respect for the king, he had instead lost his temper completely. Having known since he was a mere child toddling behind his father that he showed a real aptitude for horses, even more so than most of their kind, Théoden had wanted to cultivate this. As was only right for a boy of the royal line, Éomer had had his own pony before he could barely walk, and learned to ride well before he could even mount it himself. Standing on boxes to groom it, crawling up to sit on its back to brush the neck, and falling down into the straw of the stall an endless number of times as he did so. Théoden had seen him climb up to sit on the wall of the stall to brush his father's horse when he was only three, and curled up on his back to fall asleep, brush in one hand, a mere year later. The horse standing absolutely still, as if well aware that a fall from the greater height could have very well injured the tiny child that did not even reach full the length of his legs.

Èomer had always been a skilled rider, more so than most of his age, and he had progressed well in his sword training as well, but he had not adjusted well to a life without his father and Théoden worried for him. Presenting him with a horse of the line of the Mearas as young as he was, was almost unheard of. Only for the king's true heir had it been done before, but Théoden had felt it the right thing to do.

Not only did his nephew's skills as a rider near outshine his son's, but the boy needed something to draw him out before Théoden lost him as he had lost his mother. Éomer had been too young to understand how the grief that consumed his mother had caused her to turn away from her son. He had been wounded deeply when she would not speak to him but sat brushing and braiding Éowyn's hair.

His anger and despair had caused him to act rashly, and to present a real danger to himself, and that Théoden could not allow. Noting how the boy handled both Brego, and his own Snowmane with the skill of one many years older, and earned their trust, he had promised the unborn foal to the boy, to ensure he knew Théoden saw his worth, and it had worked.

He felt he had truly reached the boy, and that Éomer had taken his meaning. He certainly spared no effort in training and caring for the horse, and Firefoot being of the noble line, and Éomer small for his age was ready for a rider younger than many other horses. There were times Théoden felt the boy would have been happier living in the stable than in his chambers, and he had encouraged it, perhaps too much.

No one was allowed to join the Eored as young as he was, but as it seemed to be good for the boy Théoden had allowed him to travel with Théodred, after all, was not Théodred the one whom he was the closest to? Since his son and heir sometimes spent months away from home, Théoden felt it was good for Éomer to be with him when he could, and then they had their fated argument as Éomer felt he was old enough to join the Eored full.

He certainly had more skill than some of the riders, and his sword arm was strong, but he was not fully grown and Théoden king felt his heart freeze as he watched the child in front of him, not a hair on his chin, tunic too short in the sleeves as he had finally grown a little more, chin jutting out as he made his request with his short sword on his belt.

Harsh words had been spoken on both sides, Théoden out of fear he would lose the child as he had lost his sister and father. Éomer's feelings hurt as he felt he was treated like a child. To be fair, Théoden knew he had little in common with the other boys his age, and felt himself an outsider, he hoped to find a place better suited to him with the riders, but all Théoden could see in his mind was a lifeless body with broken limbs and bloody wounds. In anger, after the boy dared defy him he had sent him to his chambers, and in anger the boy had stayed there until finally they reconciled days later.

Théodred, his pride and joy had helped negotiate the peace between them, and a compromise had been reached. Théoden acknowledged Éomer's skill, and Éomer was forced to admit he was not yet strong enough. There had been no remaining friction between them, so when his nephew's chair at the table now stood empty Théoden did not know what to make of it. If the boy had been training with his horse, it was not unusual for him to be late and come in more dust and mud than boy, but the afternoon had been spent training with the bow and spear.

As he pondered the situation, he noted his son taking the empty plate in front of the unused chair to start filling it with food, cold cuts of meat, bread, and turnips. "I would think you know something I do not, son…" he mused.

"Aye father," Théodred offered a slight smile. "My cousin is in the stable, and he would not leave there."

"Is all well with Firefoot?" if something was wrong with the horse, then it would indeed be impossible to make Éomer leave. As was true with his old horse, Bragi, who was now getting old but still a very fine horse. With Firefoot to train, and Éomer in truth having surpassed what he could learn from such a horse he did not ride him as much anymore. Mostly it was leisure rides into the country for some fishing and swimming which they both still enjoyed. Éomer had taken the horse out for a full day last winter, into the bitter cold, and what they had been up to Théoden did not know, but they came home both covered in snow. Then to his young nephew had also been late for his meal, and Théoden had found him in the horse's stall, clothes still wet, and asleep as soon as he had finished caring for his horse. Aye, Éomer took the care of his horses most seriously.

"The horses are all well," Théodred assured him, easing his worry. "Éomer could in truth have been better father. Which would be why he will not leave the stable. I suppose I could have forced him, but I did not feel it would be to anyone's benefit."

"Aye, sometimes it is not," Théoden agreed. "I would assume you know the matter then? Or have you been sworn to secrecy?"

"Nay, but I know as much from others as I do from him," Théodred shook his head as he put a large dollop of honey on the plate, adding a spoonful of mustard to the cold cuts. "Eartwearm proved again he is a bully and a coward, he attempted to cut Éowyn's braid… I doubt he would have had the courage to go through with it, but there is no more certain way to anger Éomer beyond reason…"

"Aye, that is very much the truth," Théoden sighed, glancing to the hearth where his niece now played. She had a doll, clad in a fine gown, and a finely crafted wooden sword, and he was not certain if the doll had been rescued by the imaginary orcs, or slain them by herself. Éowyn was a very fierce young girl of ten, and she was very envious of her brother's weapon training and skill with horses. The two siblings were very close, and loved each other dearly, but Éowyn had a temper and did not hesitate to unleash it on her brother. Older he might be, but Éomer had yet to come out the victor against his sister.

Eartwearm was the son of one of the Captains, and thought much too much of his own worth for it. A bully and a coward as Théodred had said, and much envious of Éomer, feeling that all the boy had been given was only because of his blood tie to the king. He deemed the younger boy unworthy of it all, and if so all the boy had was a honey cake, Eartwearm wanted it for himself and would attempt to take it from him. Several altercations between them seemed to have resulted in the older boy using Éowyn to provoke Éomer to lose all reason. It was that very trait that Éomer needed to master before he could be trusted to join the Eored, for it was that trait that Théoden feared would get him killed. "Eartwearm is well twice his size, if only a few years older than Éomer, and I would his father took a belt to him. He needs to learn some manners that one… I would assume Éomer did not fare well against him then?"

"Indeed not," Théodred sat back with a sigh, toying with an apple before he stuffed it into his pocket. "All sense seems to desert him, he knows he can not take that bully, and he knows very well Eartwearm is much too cowardly to risk your ire by carrying out the threat. But he will not think it through. Instead he acts without thought or reason, and had not the stable master intervened I fear it would have been even worse for him."

"Tis not like Éomer to hide in the stable only for a fight gone bad though," Théoden mused. Boys were all but encouraged to fight. It was believed it strengthened them and made them better soldiers. That did not mean they were allowed to do as they pleased. An older bigger boy targeting a younger for easy sport would not be tolerated.

"Tis not only what Eartwearm did to him, but what Éowyn did for his attempt to protect her," Théodred shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "She did not much care for it Father, as she felt she could have stood her own ground and he should not have interfered. She had her sword and shield at the time, and used both on him, and I believe threatened him with further retaliation should she lay eyes on him again tonight."

"Ah, it would seem to make more sense then," Théoden sighed, shaking his head as he beheld his own offspring. "Would that you had had a sister, son, and I might have known more of how to handle that girl now. Do try to get the boy to eat, but please remind him he is a boy and not a horse… Tell him I want him inside before nightfall, it shall be cold tonight."

"I'll tell him father," stuffing a goblet in his other pocket, and grabbing a pitcher of ale from the table Théodred stood. "But I think he fears the wrath of his sister more than he fears the cold…"

"That is not an entirely inadvisable opinion," Théoden mused as he shook his head, refilling his own plate as he watched his son go. What he was to do about the children he did not know, though he loved them all dearly. He would truly not have minded a daughter of his own, or a second or even third son if it came to that. The children had proven to be a great joy in his life, if he felt they might also be the death of him… He recalled hearing his own father say much the same once, and now he knew what he had meant.

He allowed Éowyn to play where she was, and sent her to bed later. He heard Théodred enter his own chambers late in the night, but he did not hear Éomer and when he checked his chambers they were empty. Sighing he pulled on a robe and made his way through the golden hall where the dying fires still cast a warmth and faint glow. He had thought it possible that Éomer had sought refuge there rather than in his own chambers. He could not see him though, and so excited the doors onto the stone patio outside, turning to the doorwarden there. "Has my nephew come in this evening?"

"Nay Sire, we have not seen him," the man shook his head.

Nodding slowly, and tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robes Théoden went inside again. Though he knew he would get no rest unless he found the boy. Instead he went to back to his chambers and took the fur lined blanket from the chest. It was not yet cold enough for it though it had kept him warm through many a cold winter night. Carrying it over his arm he went to the stable, past the smaller stalls into the back where the stalls were larger, he passed Snowmane a carrot, and scratched Brego on the nose as he found the stall beyond them. Instantly he was greeted by bared teeth and a mighty snort as Firefoot stomped a hoof and laid his ears back. In the corner of the stall the bundle in the hay shifted, tensing as if he was apprehensive of what was to come.

"Did not Théodred convey my wish that you should come inside ere nightfall, or does the word of your King mean so little to you?" Théoden laid his hands on the low wall of the stall, a cautious eye on the grey stallion. Like Éomer, the creature had not grown into his full potential yet, and was still somewhat unpredictable. It would have been a folly for anyone but his master to try sleep in his stall. The risk of being trampled was too great, but for Éomer it was safe enough.

"I'm sorry, Sire…" Éomer's voice was thick and hesitant as he sat up, head down. "I did not wish to disobey you, my Lord…. But I truly had no desire to meet anyone either…"

"Aye, I thought it might be so," he nodded as he kept his eyes on the horse. Firefoot was not at ease yet, on guard still, and Théoden while not fearful of the horse knew to respect him. "And I spoke partially in jest, sister son, but tis cold and I truly did want you inside in your own bed…"

"Can I please stay here?" Éomer was yet to look up. "Please, my lord, I'm warm enough…. I swear, and I really would rather be alone…"

"Come here," Théoden sighed softly. "I'll have a look at you before I cast judgement on the matter."

The way the boy hesitated told him all he needed to know. "Èomer, come here, or make sure your horse allows me to enter."

"Firefoot would not harm you, Sire," the boy mumbled, though he started to straighten.

"That may be, but he certainly is protective of you," Théoden mused as his nephew climbed to his feet, displaying two black eyes and a split lip, with clear evidence of a nosebleed on his tunic. "So, what of this was due to Eartwearn and what is from your sister?"

"Couldn't tell," he shrugged, laying one arm around Firefoot's neck with a wince. "It was all one or the other."

"Eartwearm was only trying to goad you, he would not have committed such an act," Théoden shook his head. "A bully he is, but far too cowardly to want to face what I would have done to him for it."

"I know, Théodred told me," Éomer picked at Firefoot's mane, selecting a few tresses that he started to braid. Sighing softly Théoden turned to pick a brush from a shelf on the wall. Taking it with him into the stall he started brushing the muscular side. Firefoot gave him a suspicious look, but after a mere moment he relaxed into his touch.

"So is your reluctance to come inside due to the bully, or to your sister?" Théoden wanted to know. Firefoot was already perfectly groomed, but it was a relaxing action and the horse certainly seemed to enjoy it.

"Both I would say," Éomer decided. "And my own shame for allowing him success, but I could not do nothing. To simply stand by and see how far he would go, I could not do that… It would have been just as wrong as my action was."

"I suppose it would have at that," Théoden agreed. To stand and watch as his sister was being tormented, no, Éomer could not have done that. "I am very proud of you for looking out for your sister Éomer, even when she does not wish for it. And while I wish you learned to temper your actions, it is not easy. You are indeed right, you could not have stood idly by. Though attempting a fair fight with a bully like Eartwearm will only cause you pain…"

"Aye, I certainly know that," the boy gave an undignified snort and Théoden smiled to himself.

"So what of coming inside?" he ran his hand over the grey coat, smooth as silk, the boy had clearly brushed it before for there seemed to be not a speck of dust on the horse.

"May I stay here?" Éomer looked up from the braid he was shaping. "I am not hiding Uncle, even if I know it must look so. But Éowyn is angry and I know some of the others are laughing and it makes me angry. There is a peace out here…"

"Come in for the morning meal my lad," Théoden ruffled his hair, smiling again as he ducked his head. "But aye, you may stay here. we all need some peace sometimes, and it's good you do not give in to the anger."

"Well, I suppose I did at first, but I try not to," Éomer sighed. "I know I must not, for it serves no purpose but to do the enemies job for him," he repeated the words he had been told so many times. Shoulders sagging, bottom lip jutting out. "It's a whole sight easier to say it than to do it…"

"That it is lad," Théoden agreed as he excited the stall to put the brush away. "I have no doubt you will learn Éomer, you are growing into a fine young man, you truly are. And you'll have to forgive an old man for sometimes wanting to keep you a boy a moment longer…"

"I thank you for the trust, Uncle," he gave a wistful smile as he patted the neck of his horse. "And thank you for letting me stay here, Sire."

"Tis my pleasure, sister son," he knew that Éomer spoke in part of the horse. The boy knew the value of the creature, and not just in gold or jewels but in the symbol it was of their land and what he had been entrusted when he was given it. "Stay warm," he put the blanket over the wall of the stall.

"I will Uncle, thank you," Éomer took it with a small smile as Théoden left the stable.

When the king returned in the morning, meaning to fetch the boy, he found him still asleep. Firefoot lay in the straw, Éomer curled up next to him, and the blanket over them both.

A Temporary End.

Thank you all who's read and reviewed, the Cricket is very happy!

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.