Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. I am only playing with the fandom for the enjoyment of me as well as others.

Authors note: Take care that a spew warning might apply and be cautious when handling food and liquids while reading this.

Chapter 42

Exhaustion lay heavy on Aragorn's shoulders as he and his Steward made their way along the path of the river. Though not too deep, it was wide and it had taken them some time to find a good crossing. He had chosen to ride with his Steward, Prince Faramir, alone though his advisors would call it reckless foolishness. They would argue that the King must not go around unprotected, but in this he had been most firm. If the King could not take himself a mere few days ride from his capital, then how could he not have failed in his service to the Kingdom.

Truthfully the reason the two men had left alone with no guard was because there had been rumours of trouble rising in the east. The reason he had given for leaving was not to counsel with his Neighbour, but to simply take a few days away from the palace. Faramir had been in Minas Tirith and would now journey home to Emyn Arnen, so Aragorn had simply declared his intent to travel with him for a few days easy company.

A messenger sent had assured him that Éomer would await them in that they could confer. What reasons he had given his own court Aragorn knew not, but he expected it was no more than Éomer had wanted to give. He was still as headstrong as ever the youth had been, and there was not a councillor who could hold out against him when his mind was set. If the King of Rohan wished to go out without guards, then so he did, and one might as well try to stop the tide from coming.

The weariness he felt was not this time caused so much by the journey, but the fact that he feared there were those in his court that had no intent to serve the country. Whispers were all that he had heard, but those whispers made him ill at ease and caused him to fear there were eyes already on him.

He had not been able to give Éomer much warning of the same, though he had wished to. If he did not know whom might be listening though, or watching, certain things were best left out of his missives. Messengers sent to Rohan were frequent enough that none would rise an eyebrow at them, and he hoped the letters he sent were not intercepted. If they were though, he would take no chances. The word asking for the meeting had not been sent on parchment, but through the words of a most trusted messenger.

The country was beautiful, full and green as it had not been for many years when the dark shadow had lain across most of the land. The river offered a pleasant sound as Aragorn looked that way, noting the occasional ring where a fish took a bug. "I think we shall be able to eat well tonight," he decided.

"Aye, should not be too hard to get enough fish," Faramir agreed.

"If we also add what I know you have hidden in your saddlebags my friend, we shall eat even better," Aragorn teased lightly. "If I am not mistaken, you have both honey cakes, and berry tarts."

"Also sweet breads," Faramir offered a warm smile. "Though the apple braid was given me by my wife, made by her own hand. I am under threat to share it with our friend, though I have not yet made my mind up if it would be too cruel to insist upon it."

"I am uncertain if you could convince Éomer to eat it," Aragorn allowed a light laugh in spite of the seriousness of their errand. "If he does learn that his sister has made it, no matter how much he loves her, he shall fight you on the matter. And I fear his sword arm is stronger than yours, nay, I ask you, let us not take such a needless risk."

"I did smell quite lovely when she made it, I had thought to bring it and see if it might prove edible after all," Faramir shrugged. "At least, I had intended to perform my duty to her, and offer it as intended. Whatever my brother by law will choose to do, my hands will be unstained."

"Knowing our young friend, and his penchant for evoking his sister's fury, they might not be as unstained as you would wish them to be," Aragorn chuckled.

"The slayer of the Witch King, one would think he would use caution," Faramir shook his head.

"Caution, as Éomer sees it, is not caution as you might my friend," Aragorn decided, a slightly wistful expression on his face. "Ever has he been such, fearless, impulsive, and yet I would not have him any other way."

"As father was sometimes reluctant to deal with Rohan, even when he claimed great need for their horses, it oft fell to Boromir to do so," Faramir met his eye. "Théoden King sent Théodred, to train him in negotiations and the matters of state, and Théodred in turn oft took Éomer with him. For the same purpose. Boromir grew most fond of him, more so than our father cared for. I think Lord Denethor found him too young and hot headed."

"There has been moments, when Éomer does remind me of Boromir, of his valour, bravery and strength," Aragorn decided. If Boromir had been corrupted by the ring, it had been his love for his country and desire to see it prosper that had been his downfall. Personal gain would never have tempted him, and such a prize would never lure Éomer either.

"I think we have come up on him," he noted as Brego whinnied and received a grunt in reply. Still a stand of bushes blocked their view, but coming around them Aragorn did not even attempt to hold back his laughter. "Hail the camp!" he called out though he knew their presence would already have been noted.

The river lay quiet and inviting, the grass soft and green on the bank. Barely touched at all by man or beast, they had still made themselves comfortable. Saddle and bridle lay in the grass near a tree. Firefoot, also lay in the grass, the mighty grey looking perfectly at ease as he was stretched on his side. Munching whatever grass stood within his reach he snatched a mouthful now and then, chewing absently.

Using the war horse for a backrest, Éomer lay stretched out on the ground, his head pillowed on his belly in a way no one would dare unless they knew the horse explicit. Even then Aragorn knew many would hesitate, as one false move from the horse, even unintentional, would see them maimed or killed. Should Firefoot try to rise before Éomer, a serious injury was most likely to occur, and yet the blonde warrior had rarely looked more at ease.

"I take it waiting has been no hardship for you, brother by law?" Faramir smiled.

"Nay, even if regretfully dire the circumstances, we have been quite content to be away from the stifling maters of court," Éomer shrugged. "Though I must claim I am glad to see you finally arrive from hunger alone."

"I would not have thought you would have starved," Aragorn mused as he dismounted. "Though I am well familiar with the Rohirric's way of travelling light, there is plenty of fish."

"Aye, and no way for me to get at it," Éomer replied.

"Do you not carry a line?" even if he did not, Aragorn had once seen Firefoot beat a fish to death with his hooves and he did not see why the lack of line or hook would see him go hungry.

"Line I have, but casting it as far as the water I can not," Éomer shrugged.

"Have the King of Rohan then got lazy and complacent?" Aragorn baited him. "If he can not make it a few yards to the waters edge for his supper?"

Before Éomer could reply Firefoot moved his head, and found there was no grass within easy reach, and he raised his hind leg, his knee striking Éomer in the side and Aragorn would think he was glad for the thick jerkin he wore. With a grunt of pain that spoke of the force from the mighty horse, Éomer reached out a hand to snag a handfull of thick sweet grass that he held out to his horse. Munching on it, Firefoot seemed content, as Éomer rather than waiting for another nudge tore a handful.

"I have not," the young king snorted. "Though it would seem between you and my wife, my horse has become a lazy glutton."

"T'would seem to me the horses of Rohan trains their riders as well as their riders trains them," Faramir laughed.

"Enough, you lazy glutton, I am hungry and shall want food also," Éomer rolled to his side as if to stand, and once more Firefoot kicked out his leg. A knee in his side caused him to lose his balance and fall down, while a foreleg kicked back struck him in the thigh. Kicking the leg once more Firefoot was able to pin his master's legs down with his own.

"He has you well trained indeed," Aragorn joined Faramir in laughter as Éomer had to pay another handful of grass to get his legs freed.

"Nã mã," Éomer slapped the horse on the side. "Ġenõg, tis enough you big oaf, or I shall soon find out how horseflesh taste…."

It was an empty threat Aragorn knew, as did they all. Firefoot though gave a frightful whinny, struggling to his feet with such speed that Éomer had to scramble to take himself out of the way of a flailing hoof.

It was exactly that reason that made the position so dangerous, though Aragorn suspected Firefoot was well aware of where he placed his hooves, including the one he sat down on his master's foot to draw another string of curses out of the young warrior. Listening carefully Aragorn could not say if there were any new ones, though it was possible Faramir's relaxed laugh might have muffled them.

"Better leave that battle for later," Aragorn advised as he grabbed his horse by the chin. "We have enough to sate the worst of your hunger, and lines to get fish for later."

"I came well stocked from the kitchen," Faramir assured him as Éomer allowed his attention to be drawn from his rebellious horse.

Spreading the cloth on the grass Faramir was not long to indulge his sweet tooth, taking a honey cake while Aragorn sat one aside. It would do well to give to Firefoot later when Éomer's attention would be elsewhere. He had found it was a good idea to stay on Firefoot's good side.

The blonde warrior not one for sweets in the same manner as Faramir and not yet having been warned made to slice the apple braid with his dagger, frowning as the weapon bit into the bread without cutting through.

"That is especially for you, from your dear sister and my beloved wife," Faramir told him around a berry tart. "I thought it looked better than most of hers, but it does seem a little hard."

"Had I not tried to cut it, that would have taken out my teeth," Éomer hefted it experimentally. "Though I do think this time it shall be of use to us." Standing he hefted it in hand and made towards the water's edge.

"We have plenty of food Éomer, you need not soak it to soften it," Aragorn called out to him.

"Such was not my intention," he snorted. "I am far too hungry for jams and tarts, I shall club me a fish!"

Watching him as he strode into the water, apple braid raised in the manner of a club Aragorn shared a bemused smile with his Steward.

"I think I shall see to the fire, I think that he shall not give up ere he has a fish," Faramir mused as he hurriedly stuffed another honey cake into his mouth.

"Aye, I believe you speak the truth," Aragorn decided. "I also think in fairness we should save some of these for him," he gestured to the cloth and the sweet breads on it. "Once his hunger is sated, I would imagine he might care for one or two."

At a soft splash they turned their eyes to the river in time to see the apple braid rise and fall, before Éomer plunged his hand into the water, hauling out a large fish. With a victorious grin he made it back to the shore with it. Pulling his dagger to clean it as he walked.

"For once you may speak the honest truth when you tell your wife that her efforts were greatly appreciated," Aragorn laughed, turning towards Faramir.

"Indeed, though I honestly did not think that would be hard enough to club a fish," Faramir shook his head, snatching a berry tart on his way past. "How could you tell?"

"She threw her pastries at me often enough as a child," Éomer shook his head ruefully. "Split my head open and it ached for days… If anything, I feel sympathy for the fish."

Chuckling to himself Aragorn took the fish from him, "You caught it, I'll clean it and we may all have a nice meal. I believe I have some herbs to season it with. While it cooks, I would counsel you to have some of the honey cakes, if you want any at all."

Throwing a glance at his brother by law Éomer nodded. "Aye, I believe I shall," sitting down and grabbing two, he pretended not to see as Aragorn passed one to his horse while seeing to the fish.

The stallion rather deserved it, he made for an excellent backrest when one was weary, and one that would never fail to alert him to danger at that.

Allowing Aragorn to continue with the food he settled for the more difficult task, ensuring there would be some of the sweet breads left for after the meal.

His brother by law had worse of a sweet tooth than even his sister…

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.