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 44

As it had come to Aragorn's attention that Dunelendings had crossed into Rohan in mass, attacking both settlements and small villages, causing the road to Gondor to be unsafe it had been his first thought to confer with Éomer. The problem being a great concern to them both he had not been surprised to receive the message that the young King was headed for Gondor with an Eored. Knowing that this together with his own men would be quite enough men to pose a serious opposition to the enemy Aragorn felt confident they should soon have the problem set to right.

Éomer he knew still strove to rein in his temper in order to avoid costly mistakes from anger. It was that anger that had caused his father to be lured into an ambush and killed. While Éomer had always been somewhat hot tempered he was learning more and more to temper it with judgement and Aragorn felt proud over his fellow regient's accomplishment.

It was however quite obvious that the council they were forced to endure, as men more interested in politics sought to advise them on the matter wore on him. At the peak of summer the sun was ruthless and a heat induced haze seemed to have settled over the city. Even the children seemed reluctant to play at midday, prefering to seek out whatever shadow they could find.

Garbed as he was, Aragorn found it stifling in the stone palace, and he could easily tell that Faramir felt the same way. While neither man had said a word he felt it was safe to assume their Rohan friend agreed with the sentiment. Knowing that as soon as the council was over, they would ride for battle, Éomer had not shed the habits of a Rider. He came in armour, though such was not always his habit in more peaceful times Aragorn felt it wise. The Rohirric were proud of their heritage and of the might of their riders. Their King would not be seen riding for war council and not be ready for it.

He stood now, watching as Aragorn signed a document that had been brought to them, having been required to sign a few himself he had scowled so hard at the poor clerk Aragorn feared the man would not dare to enter again. Faramir had seemed amused, but not without sympathy as the young King had shaken out his hand. His hand was still well used to the sword, and uneasy with the quill. While his script was neat and easily read, it was also painstakingly slow and had never come easy to him. The Rohan people did not use their language in writing and so very few knew how to read and write. With the responsibility as well as privileges of the royal line, Éomer had been a reluctant student. However Aragorn could not fathom that he would ever find enjoyment in the written word. In Westron, he could express himself as eloquently as Faramir should the need be. There was no mistaking his meaning for his Rohirric accent was faint. In either language he was well versed in explicatives, more so than Aragorn in the two combined.

That he was less adapt at writing was something Aragorn tried to avoid drawing an eye to. Most of his upbringing had been focused on the sword and horses, there had not been much time for learning a neat hand, and certainly none for leisurely reading. Not in a country threatened by constant war, and where books were scarce. In truth, that he was as proficient as he was Aragorn felt was noteworthy. Aside from his slow pace in shaping the ink, the only hindrance to reading the documents were his occasional confusion about what parts made up a word. It was not unusual for them to contract a few extra letters than what was needed.

It was in large why he had adopted the habit of letting Faramir, who had a swift neat hand write up all that was needed for them, claiming it to be to indulge his own reluctance for writing at length. It was bad form to bring attention to the fact that a fellow regent had just added three more letters to your name. For his own sake, he found it amusing and a trait he though fondly of, but advisors, clerks and self important nobles tended to disagree.

Putting down the quill, Aragorn for once not caring if a drop of ink would stain the table. Nary a wind moved the curtains, and the air in the room was stifling. "We have, I think, accomplished all that we will be able to at this moment," he started softly. "It is hot and we are all weary. I think a respite is well in order. Why do we not remove ourselves from the city for a time? I seem to recall a spot along the river which would make for a quite nice place for us to cool ourselves."

"Part sloping, with a bit of a cliff?" Éomer asked and Faramir gave him a surprised look.

"It would be the place," the Steward stated, but I did not know you knew of it."

"It was your brother's doing," Éomer gave him a sheepish smile. "I believe Lord Denethor found his impatience quite vexing while seeking to resolve important matters. As he found my presence vexing for my mere attendance, he bid of Boromir to remove us both. He said he oft took you there, it is a good place, easy enough for the horses to get into the water, deep enough they may swim.

It brought a smile to Aragorn's lips that he would rate a swimming hole based on the suitability for the horses. Amusing he found it, but not surprising. To the Rohirrim, their horses were never far from their mind. "As long as we are all in agreement, I say we take ourselves there, I believe the respite from this heat would be beneficial to us, if only for a time."

"Aye, indeed it would," Éomer agreed. "Firefoot shall certainly be glad for it, your stone stables are near as stifling as your stone houses."

"I shall inform them of our leaving, and arrange for a small meal to take along," Faramir decided. "I think we shall find it easier to eat by the coolness of the river."

"Do that, and I'll have your horse readied for you," Aragorn offered as he and Éomer headed for the door.

The King of Gondor waved the stable master aside, prefering to prepare Brego himself, and noting with mild amusement that Éomer did not do anything with Firefoot aside from giving him a piece of carrot. Instead, he grabbed the tack for Faramir's large bay and started saddling the gelding.

"In this heat, it's kinder to him without the saddle," Éomer shrugged as if he could sense Aragorn's question. "He shall be glad to be without it, and I do not expect we shall meet with any trouble."

"And even then, I do not expect it would hinder you overmuch," Aragorn smiled, softly. He was well aware of the Rohir's skill. Éomer was outmatched by few, he was indeed a horse lord.

Indeed, when Faramir once more joined them, a basket in hand, Éomer easily mounted by taking a hold of Firefoot's neck and swinging himself upon his back. Accepting the reins to his own horse, Faramir mounted in a way as proper for a Gondorian Lord. His father he knew, would have been horrified by the sight of a King riding bareback. Boromir however, would have certainly approved.

Leaving the citadel and the shade cast by the Mundberg the sun bore down on them once more. Aragorn had to reach up a hand to wipe sweat from his brow, and he was dressed more appropriately for the heat than was Éomer, though the Rohir did not seem overly bothered. He had never lost his habits of readiness and vigilance, and Aragorn oft was grateful for it. There were many threats still, to not be ready was folly.

It was close to an hour at a leisurely pace before they came within sight of the water. Brego tossed his head, eager for the cool shade a stand of trees provided. Beside him, Faramir's gelding quickened his pace. The horses clearly longed for the coolness of the shade and water as much as the riders did. Here there was also a fact that could not ever be denied, Firefoot was loyal to a fault, but he was also a horse with his own opinions and wants. Never had Aragorn seen one more skilled than Éomer in the handling of horses, but he also knew that Firefoot had ways of enforcing his own will.

In battle the horse would never hesitate to heed his master, even in standing his ground against a Mumakil. When Firefoot disobeyed his master, it was not because Éomer had no control over his horse, but because he had never wanted to curb Firefoot's free will and spirit.

No doubt the horse remembered this place as well as his rider did, for he broke out into a gallop, even had he used saddle and reins Aragorn did not think Éomer would have been able to halt his horse. It was a simple matter of brute strength, something of which the horse had more of than the rider.

The cliffs overlooking a part of the water were not high, nor were they hard to access. As a boy, riding to swim with his brother Faramir had leapt from them and into the water countless of times. They provided an excellent diving platform. The water underneath ran deep enough one did not need to worry about injury.

Tis it would seem was what Firefoot remembered, for he galloped up the short sloping cliff and leapt out into the water. Causing a huge splash which could be seen even by the two men not yet having reached the waters edge.

Instantly Aragorn spurred Brego on, while he was certain that Éomer could swim, to do so in armour as he still wore was exceedingly more difficult. Leaping from the saddle at the waters edge he was just in time to see Éomer break surface before being pulled under again by the weight of his armour. Firefoot, not more than two yards from him lifted his head to blow water from his nostrils.

Taking two strides out into the water Aragorn was aware that Faramir had dismounted beside him and was gazing intently across the water.

Once more, the surface broke, but this time Éomer managed to throw an arm around the neck of Firefoot, the stallion tossing his head in seeming delight.

Coughing and gasping for breath, Éomer still managed a string of curses that brought a smile to Aragorn's lips. Giving a sharp whistle he tried to get the attention of the stallion, only to be granted a quizzical look in turn.

"I had not expected that," Faramir mused softly beside his liege.

"Nor it would seem, did Éomer," Aragorn shook his head, relieved now that it seemed there was no risk his friend would drown. Though the armour might certainly weigh him down, Firefoot would not let it happen. "It would seem your horse remembered this place as well as you did," he called softly as he noted Éomer had got close enough to shore to touch bottom. "Are you hurt," he asked with more concern.

"Nay," glaring at his horse, who having discerned that his master was safe and sound ashore, took himself back into the water with delight. "Though that great big ingrate shall be when I get my hands on him."

With a laugh of relief Aragorn moved to undo the buckles of the armour. "It would seem it was more out of excitement than malice," he smiled. "Your horse I think was simply over joyed at the prospect to cool off and a bit of play."

"He does seem to enjoy himself," Faramir declared, moving to undo the straps of the pauldron on his brother by law's other side. "And you did I think, leave off the saddle in order to allow him a bath?"

"He knows better, the bloody mule," Éomer glared at his horse as he struggled with the wet armour. "He only thinks he shall get away with it as you are here. You spoil him rotten and has him thinking I won't take him to task in your presence."

"And worst of all," with the cuirass and coat of mail removed, Aragorn slapped him on a wet shoulder. "He is right in his surmise."

Sighing softly, as a man defeated, Éomer nodded, "aye…"

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.