"Arise, Eomer, son of Eomund." Theoden ordered in a soft, but commandful tone. The sound of it filling the whole hall, reaching every ear between the dais and the main doors. "And take up your mantel as Marshal of the Mark. Third of your kind."
Eomer looked up at his uncle and stood his knee up and off the second step up on the dais, gripping his helmet tightly under his right arm, a large spear held proudly in his left hand to steady him. His heart fluttered, and he took a breath, hoping that it would keep the nerves from getting to him. Or from showing on his face at the very least. He had always hoped the day would come when he would be able to greater serve his uncle and the Mark. And now, here he was. The Marshal himself. He glanced at Theoden.
Theoden's smile was kind and proud. He nodded once and stepped down a step, standing on the second step up now, and rested his hand on Eomer's shoulder. "Well done, my sister's son." he mused, his tone private and proud. He rested his hands on Eomer's upper arms and smiled in a small private way. "She would be so proud of you. They both would." Theoden shook Eomer a little and clapped his hands against the rerebraces of hardened, metal studded leather that protected Eomer's upper arms.
Eomer looked at him and nodded once. "Thank you, Uncle." he half whispered, his voice choked up a little, trying to keep his emotions in check.
Theoden looked up at the packed hall. "Hail! Third of the Marshals! Hail the Mark!" he ordered, his voice booming as Eomer turned to face the hall. He held a hand out toward Eomer in a proud way. He looked over his people, mostly higher up warriors and his lords that were in the city. Though there was a large mix of his citizens, cramming into the back and sides of the hall, straining to see their new marshal appointed.
"Hail Marshal! Hail Eomer!" The hall returned, every fist up. To a man.
Eomer watched it unfold, feeling the flop of his stomach again. He stepped up and backwards a step, solidly onto the bottom step of the dais, and raised his spear in a victorious sort of motion.
The cheer that broke from the men was joyous and powerful. All of them willing to fall under his command and proud to die with him or for him as the need arose.
Eomer smiled tightly and glanced over his shoulder.
Theodred smirked back at him and half inclined his head, almost in a motion that seemed to be disrespectful and proud at the same time. They had ridden together since they were children. And as they grew up, traded leading men into minor battles with orcs or the Wildlings.
Eomer smirked back at his cousin and dipped his shoulder in a deferential movement. Despite how close the two of them were, Eomer had never lost sight of the fact that Theodrid was heir to the throne. Even if he was the one in charge of the company, Theodrid was nearby, and Eomer did what he could to make sure Theodrid didn't cut off or swamped. Two men were always assigned to make sure he was never completely alone, but with strict instructions to make sure that he was allowed to fight his own way through.
Crown prince or not, to have the respect of his warriors was an important thing. Only Eomer and the two men he always chose knew. And it would stay that way until their graves.
Not even Theoden knew what his newly promoted Marshal did for his son.
Theodred half chuckled and slipped his arm around the wisp of a girl in a deep green dress next to him in a loose and friendly way.
Eomer looked at his sister and smiled at her.
Eowyn sniffed softly and leaned against Theodred a little, tears of pride shining in her eyes. She half giggled at the look on Eomer's face and quickly used the corner of her sleeve to dry under her right eye.