They returned not long after first light filled the city. Market would open soon. She was expected to be at the tent by the opening. Her mother would be hard pressed to run the stand all alone.
Eomer gave a wave when they parted. He to the right, to the royal stables. Eryx walked left down to their home.
Mildritha was a different woman who emerged in her market tent. She cinched the apron tight across herself. Her body yearned to spend the building energy inside. Kneading the dough gave the best opportunity for it. Her palms rocked back and forth in the soft squishy dough. She kept on constant pace kneading batch after batch her mother delivered to her table.
"Yesterday served you well." Her mother toyed the end of Mildritha's tied back hair. She flashed a satisfied grin. "The hall gave us both the fun we needed."
It was not the hall that did it.
Revealing that information to her mother, was not in her plan either.
Mildritha adjusted the height of her voice before she spoke. "Eryx was in need of a ride this morning. He was so antsy."
"He's used to getting ridden." Mildred gave a sigh. Her arms hauled a large sack of flour from behind their stall to Mildritha's table. "Your father made sure to never neglect the creature of a day's exercise."
"Being in the stable makes him feral."
"Spoiled beast."
The horse was a beloved part of their family. He was given daily treats. Never a day went by where he was not given attention and a fair brushing. Riding just became the least of their problems upon arrival at Edoras.
Mildritha took control of the stall when the time came to start baking their loaves. She tended the front for costumers. Daily faces, with names, started to appear. Their friendly greetings became a routine. They asked after her mother and the day's bake. It filled her morning with idle conversation.
The next stall over bustled with people she now recognized. She gave a small wave to Denegyth, who had to nod her head lest she untangle her hands from the weaving.
Close to lunch, a girl appeared. Her linen dress was deep cinnamon. The vibrant hue was not any that came from the local vendor. Her flesh was of pale ivory, so delicate like ice. Pale hair went down to her waist. It fluttered freely in the gentle breeze that flowed through the city's pathways like a river of cool air.
The young girl's eyes landed upon Mildritha. She approached the stand.
"This is the cause of my brother's smile," she stated. Out of nowhere, Eomer appeared. His eyes glanced at the young girl before they turned to her. "You're as pretty as he said."
This young girl was Eowyn, Eomer's little sister. Fair and cold.
"I did not say she was pretty," he said curtly. A strong blush was on his face. "You merely asked if she was, and I said yes."
Eowyn's face glinted in the yellow light. It ignited her hair of pale corn aglow. There was a deepness inside her eyes. A frozen center that did not thaw despite the warming of the days.
She thought back to what Eomer had said of their mother's passing. How it broke them in different ways.
Eowyn's sharp eyes looked upward at her brother. "She still is."
Mildritha wrinkled her nose. "These boys here. They are all about beauty. It is annoying. It would suit me to be ugly to save myself the trouble of their attention."
A devious gurl came to the lady's lips. Eomer blinked in disbelief, or confusion. They were often similar.
"A lady should be proud of her beauty."
"Why? I've done nothing to earn it. It is merely the circumstance of my birth. A lady," she made sure to roll the word off her tongue, "is a person, same as you. How would you feel if I always talked about how gruesomely tall you are? Or how muscled your arms are."
"He'd enjoy that," Eowyn said.
Eomer cleared his throat and flashed his sister a murderous look when he thought Mil could not see.
She laughed. "Fine. I shall make a point to say it each time I see you."
He countered, "Then I'll have no choice to speak of your face and how its shape appeals to me."
"If you're going to bother her, brother, you better make it better than that. I'll bet every guy says that to her."
His head jerked back. "Not every guy."
"Unfortunately." Mildritha's head bobbed in agreement.
Eomer blinked and stepped forward. "Surely not, now."
Now that they kissed? Her tongue stuck to the inside of her cheek to keep from teasing him about the fact that it would not stop if they were married and he were king of Rohan. Men were men, to a fault. The audacity grew with age, not died with it.
She instead thought of what it meant that he brought his sister there. To presumably meet her? To buy sticky rolls?
"It is nice to meet you, Lady Eowyn," Mildritha said softly. "Good to know Lord Eomer has someone to keep him reined in."
There was a surprised lift in Eomer's brows. The young lord had not prepared for the pair of them turning against him on first meeting. A miscalculation on his part as he could not believe they would not join forces to tease him.
Mildritha tilted her head. "Come inside, you two. We've just pulled a batch from the oven."
Eomer dipped inside as he always did. Eowyn followed. Her steps were not as steady as his.
"Here you are." She handed each of them a steaming warm roll. Its sugar was extra sticky as it fell down the sides.
Eowyn's eyes doubled over with the touch of it against her tongue. A smile overtook her mouth.
Eomer simply split his in half. The other was handed back. Her fingers held the stickiness in her hand. Warm bread. It was uncommon they would eat their own wares unless they were faulty. Or stale. But a fresh sticky roll of her own making was a rare treat.
"Go on," he said.
So it was the trio ate warm sticky rolls, delirious from sugar and airy bread. It was not so easy to win over Eowyn's affection, clearly, but the young girl was far warmer after that. She would often find herself wandering to market at all times of day for company. Eomer had started royal training with Theodred, and Eowyn was left alone without someone to talk to.
Theodred would take pity on Eowyn's pout and release Eomer early to ride into the open Kingstead for picnic lunches where all the world was open for discussion. Mildritha would pack two loaves of bread – Eomer's appetite increased since the start of his combat training – and buns with some fruity sticky rolls for dessert. The palace servants supplied the rest of the meal: meat, cheese, whole roasted potatoes, raw peppers.
An animal hide would be tossed atop long grasses. Their bodies pressed it down until a crater formed.
There they reclined back, eating their food, hidden away from the world.
It was not all done with his sister in tow, either. There were stolen moments together. Lips pressed together, private picnics, early morning horseback rides. Eomer's kisses would lead to their hands roaming, more often than not.
One day not long after Eomer started overnight trips with Theodred's Eored, Eowyn came to the market with a stomping march of determination. Her face was knitted in that way when her earnest stubbornness kicked in.
"My uncle was advised against our idea that I sleep over at your home." She grumbled with a heightened irritation Mildritha knew better than to tangle with. "They're worried about my safety. Ha! I roam all around this city without escort. Where is the concern then? It is only their interest to control me."
Eowyn was not the only one lonely when Eomer went away. The rides with the Eored were long and unpredictable. The pair were left alone, wandering, for days.
Mildritha grew to hide her sadness when their trio was parted. It was the way of life. Eomer would only be gone more frequent. It was his duty to the kingdom. His uncle was in need of strength and loyalty.
There were days when she thought of the time that he would not return. Him, gone from her grasp forever.
It hurt her heart deep on the days she considered such a future. The ache refused to release the whole day long after it. Sometimes it lingered until she saw him again.
"I am sorry, Wyn."
Eowyn's eyes flashed wide. "That's why I've decided on a plan."
"Don't anger your uncle. You might be confined to the palace forever."
"I am only playing by their own rules. I shall sleep in Meduseld, safe and sound." Eowyn explained. Her palms pressed flat together. "You come stay. As a guest. My guest. They won't be able to say no to that."
The days without Eomer made Eowyn more feral, rebellious. She grew to a hardheaded mule that refused any offer of peace and comfort; she preferred rough harshness to appease a deep part of herself. It was not safe for her to be without him too long. Who knew what would come of her if he was not there to ground her mind?
Mildritha groaned. "I will not be a casualty to your war with Theoden king."
"He'd never turn you away." The lady waved her hand. "You are like family to Eomer and I. Uncle would never dare."
"If not the king, then your brother."
She shrugged. "So? When have you ever listened to Eomer? He would be the same as my uncle if he could. You'd never be out of sight. Not for a minute. Remember when he forbade us from venturing outside the city limits without him?"
A bitterness the young lady was still not over.
"That's to keep us safe, Wyn. There are dangers out there. Real dangers. Your brother has seen them."
"I'm not afraid."
It took a great while to be convinced of sleeping in Theoden's palace. Mildritha was not royal. Her place remained outside the Golden Hall's walls. But denying Eowyn was not her favorite thing. Her friend needed someone. The emptiness of the Hall with Theodred and Eomer left spaces to be filled with dark whispers. Insecurities seeped from the stretching shadows of night.
Eowyn led the way after the closing of the market. The hurt in her stomach hardened with each step toward those high fluttering banners at the crest of the hill.
The young lady Eowyn was unbothered. In fact, she was giddy. Her feet bounced up the steep stairs with a tapping excitement.
Eomer would chastise her for going along with Eowyn's plots, Mildritha knew, and it irked her further.
The siblings were demanding, stretching her in their two very different directions, believing her just behind their step.
Meduseld was warm and smokey and large and welcoming. The large center fire was stocked full. It fought the chill of the winds that swept through the lands up to their palace. Two large royal hounds laid stretched alongside the flames. Their snores were soft but audible through the vast emptiness.
"Uncle." Eowyn bowed her head. Mildritha bowed lower still at the platform in which the throne sat. Theoden sat with advisors in each side. They spoke in hushed tones, now silent at their approach. "Mildritha is here as my guest, just as we discussed."
The pale of his brow raised. The man glanced over at his advisors in question.
A flame should have lit up Eowyn's skirts from her stare, as it was obvious her uncle was dumbstruck by her arrival.
"Discussed, my dear?"
Bold and unrelenting, Eowyn nodded. "Yes, uncle. Don't you remember? I grow lonely with Eomer and Theodred gone. You have your own comings and goings. This palace is oh so lonely for a little girl." Mildritha had to bite her tongue just to keep her from chastising her friend. "Since my safety was concerned staying with Mil, she was brought here where we would both be safe. Is that not what you meant, my lord?"
"Shame on you," Mil muttered under her breath.
Yes, Eomer would be frustrated either took part in the blatant manipulation.
The king sputtered and stumbled with sounds until his poor eyes fell to the soft, porcelain face of Eowyn – angel carved through stone she was – and was lost to her wishes. He flashed a small smile to his niece and in turn, Mildritha.
"How could I deny such a lovely lady access to my home when she has brought such a friendship to my Eowyn. Please, Mildritha. Accept my welcome. The House of Eorl is a great host to such companions."
Mil's knee touched the floor. That was how far she bowed in respect. "Thank you, my lord. Honor be, Theoden king."
"Is Eomer to be away long? Surely, Theodred does not need him much." There was soft pleading in the undercurrent of the lady. She placed her two palms together. They held at the center of her torso.
"I'm afraid so."
The pity twisted the king in his throne. The corners of his mouth pulled downward as did his brows.
"The days will be ever lonely. It is by luck that my dear friend can be spared. She brings me comfort in these long days."
The king smiled. "Alas. She will be welcomed whenever your heart wishes."
Eowyn smiled and gave thanks to her uncle, whom was under her total spell, no doubt lost in the familiarity that she had to his dearest departed sister with whom the entire kingdom knew Theoden held a soft spot for. It was the reason why the two orphans were given a home in Edoras, with the king instead of their other uncles and aunts. Theoden cherished their mother and employed their father as Marshal of the Mark.
Although she did things out of boredom and loneliness, Eowyn was devoted to her uncle. She brought buns and rolls and bread back from him whenever she left the market tent. The young woman lit up every time he acknowledged her, just the slightest smile to his eyes had Eowyn on air for the rest of the day.
Mildritha followed Eowyn through the stretching winding corridors of Meduseld.
"If you want, I can ask him to make you my lady in waiting."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Think of it. We would spend all our days together, doing whatever we want. You'll even get paid. Fair wages, too."
Mil frowned. Working for her best friend was not an ideal situation. "King Theoden would not allow that. I am your friend. He cannot pay me to be your friend."
Eowyn chuckled. "Like other ladies don't have their friends in employ?"
The corridor ended with a wide-open window. It showed the expansive stretch of lands outside the city walls. A shower of golden sunset light stretched long, with shadows growing in strength as the sun descended through the sky. The mountain in the short distance stood proud.
Eowyn pushed open a door. "This one is mine. Eomer's is just that one there." She pointed at the door straight across the hall. "If you don't want to share my bed, take his. It'll be empty."
There was a subtle sadness in her tone. Her eyes were momentarily watery as she regarded her brother's door knowing the emptiness that sat on the other side.
Mildritha sometimes forgot how difficult it was to be alone; she'd been alone for so long. The siblings were the remains of their once happy family, all they had left, and it filled their hearts with unspeakable weight to be parted. Eomer pretended it was not there. As did Eowyn. However, it was clear when they joined, they are the calmer, more reasonable versions of themselves.
"Like I want to sleep in his stinky sweaty bed." Mil scoffed. "Have you smelled him recently?"
The large royal suite was filled with warm wood. From the bed to the desk to the floor. It was green with beech wood accents. Thick bedposts carved of beech tree trunks swirled with emerald paint flecked with gold. Taupe linen drapes fluttered against the glass windows.
A fireplace crackled with heat. It filled the space with smoke and warmth.
Her lids were heavy just walking through.
Eowyn held a grin. Her fingers patted the top of the bedspread. "There is room for both of us."
The bed wouldn't fit in Mildritha's room at home.
"And five others."
"It's more comfortable without the five others, though."
The friends shared a giggle.
They made their way to the Golden Hall for a meal with Theoden and the others of his royal court, which was sparse without the horse lords there in attendance. Typically, it was their place to drink and eat and toast their king.
Their absence made the hall feel large over their heads. The room too spacious for how few ate within.
Still, the music was nice. It filled a void that was painstakingly there. An ease of breath that was amongst peers.
Theoden king was no peer. And his superiority was a jagged edge to smooth conversations.
Eowyn squirmed in her seat and tried her best to fetch one inkling of attention from the man. She offered him more food, wine, bread, asked after his health, and spoke of the market day. He was polite and answered her but did not expand nor move it along.
Mildritha was praised for her prowess in the kitchen; the bread on the table was from her stand.
"So many years I was pressed to ride through to find the woman with the baking skill. I adored the way it smelled. Your home. It was a breath I looked forward to," Theoden king said with a rosy hue to his eye. "Now I have it just outside my step." He looked at the broken bun in his hand. Steam seeped up to his nostrils like an intoxication fume. The king adored the crust as he ate from it with greed. "How did your mother come to learn such a talent? These are not by Rohirrim design."
She swallowed her mouthful quickly. "Travelers."
"Travelers," questioned the king's man, Hama.
"On their way to Gondor. Or those in Gondor leaving again," she said. "We were a stopping place for many on their way. They would rest and heal. Through time, my family was taught recipes of their homelands. Comfort foods. Sometimes it was in exchange for a place to stay or water for their horses."
He nodded in approval. As did the king.
The table was dismissed a short while later. Urgent matters of the kingdom pulled the company of the table, leaving only Eowyn and Mildritha. Both decided they were done. Their flee of the hall was not noticed.
Eowyn led the way back to her personal suite. She fell to the rug at the front of the fireplace. Her bare toes were pulled from the constraint of stockings and wiggled in front of the blowing warmth.
"Sit beside me." Her hand patted the rug.
Mildritha followed suit. The heat against the bare soles of her feet was a luxury she had not noticed before. How heavenly it felt. Warm gusts between her toes tickled up her legs.
The night was a strange ounce of girlish embrace rather than a revolting struggle of femininity. Neither was too fond of appearing as though they were a beautiful damsel in wait, so it eased the stress of being freely open with the things they did concern themselves with as women. They took turns brushing and braiding and knotting each other's hair. Eowyn preferred styles that kept the locks out of her way. It was not ladylike to wear them, though, as a lady in Rohan's court. The opposite was true for Mildritha, who wore her hair out of her vision at the tent and liked the way she looked with it down with little braids tucked within her length of dark blonde.
Tucked into bed facing one another, Eowyn pondered thoughts aloud. "The future is a thing I think of often. Is there some image you have in your head when you conceive of it?"
The daily was challenging enough. Too far in the future was a distance she could not see.
"It changes too rapidly to expect a set vision," she answered. Honestly. "Do you think of something?"
The soft glow of fire light casted their shoulders in warmth whilst their faces remained in shadow.
Eowyn nodded. "I picture the Fold. On horseback. A shieldmaiden with a sword and shield."
"That is the future you want?"
"It is better than here." That hard look in her eye was difficult to see through the dim, but by the tone of her voice, Eowyn wore it. "A future of pretty dresses and tending matters as the men go away to their deaths. No. That is not honor. Nor valor. I would have it that I go along when the trouble comes."
Mildritha sighed. "I would not wish for it."
"I picture you there with me. And Eomer. We can all ride together. Fight together."
"You mean, die." Mil frowned deep. Her throat went dry, hoarse on instant that the image went to her head. "There is no way I would live that life."
"What else is there? To sit here and become like those girls at market, who care about beauty and grace and marriage and children. We aren't like them. We don't garden and speak soft and concern ourselves with men."
When Mildritha wrinkled her forehead, Eowyn rolled her eyes. "Except Eomer. But he doesn't count. He's not a man. An idiot, but still one of us."
What did she see in the future? It was all murky and gray. Was there a house in the Fold somewhere, or was it Edoras in the early morning dim? She was not certain. Her mother, her horse, a man, a husband, children. She did not see them either, but it was so out of focus, there was no answer which she knew was total truth.
Friendship with Eowyn and Eomer would last a lifetime. That would not change. But the distance could. Eowyn might move far away for a foreign husband or travel all of Middle Earth. Truth was, Eomer would leave too. He was a royal with duties and expectations. One day, he'd been given a place in the world that was his to control.
Where she would be was a mystery for the ages. It did not diminish her love of her friends. A letter or a visit would serve them across long distances for the length of time.
"I would sooner take to farming with a fat belly full of children than willingly ride out to war," Mildritha explained. "Or welcome any part of it in my life."
There was great pause on the other side of the bed. The young lady did not spare a breath as she heard her friend's words.
"But…what of my brother. War is all the life he'll know."
A sharp jolt stabbed to her chest like a dagger in her heart. It was pushed back in place with a steadying breath.
"We will remain friends," she said. "Our paths shall diverge. That is all. Same as you and I."
Eowyn raised to her elbow with a frown. "You cannot leave. You cannot leave me here all alone."
"I am not leaving. Settle yourself." Mil put a hand on Eowyn's arm and pushed her back down to the bed. "The future is beyond our control. It will be as it is and we will be there to greet it spite our hearts. Let us forget its lingering shadow and just live. Right now."
"I'm going to tell my uncle you must be my lady in waiting." Eowyn mumbled as she fluffed her pillow – angrily.
Boy, Eomer's return could not come soon enough.
It'd been two weeks since Theodred pulled Eomer out of Edoras and into the unknown of the kingdom. The horse lords were far from a schedule. They came and went as needed. Loneliness was still heavy on Mildritha's heart as she still expected to see his face pop into her market tent like it had all the times before.
She remained silent to her longing. Any voice to it gave it power.
Her mother and she frequented the city hall now that they were enveloped by those of the city. Their home was in the district of the other vendors. All their lives intertwined with one another.
Each night they were welcomed with a gust of greetings and smiles. Friends of the market and even those from different parts of Edoras were present in their lives at city hall.
Her mother was a popular figure. The warm smile and cheery laugh drew everyone in. She recounted stories once told to her by travelers as they passed through their old home on the East Fold. The stories were met with awe. Soft smiles thanked her for the distraction if it held their attention for a little while.
Kenric asked Mildritha what she was drinking. He gave her a cup of wine.
"Where is that brother of yours?" She asked him. Tilian was just a year or so above her in age. He liked to dance. They often swirled around the dance floor together at the hall. Their pace moved well with each other.
A crinkle came to his eye as he smiled. "He's gone and found himself a new friend. Blacksmith's boy. Not the good blacksmith. The one who has been known to stable his horse in the wrong stall if you understand my tongue."
For all Tilian was worth as a dance partner and general merriment kind of guy, Kenric was of conversation. There was word for everyone in that city hall. He knew it all.
It did fill her ears instead of the emptiness she felt there. She never forgot to remember that he probably spoke of her in the same manner.
"Good for him." She smiled behind her cup.
"He's taken himself to becoming a rider."
The brother did not bother to hide his doubtfulness in his look.
"Who, the blacksmith's boy?"
"No. Tilian. He's got that kid teaching him the craft. Fancies himself a rider if he's got the armor for it. It's all he's done this week after market closes. Goes down to the blacksmith to work. For free." Kenric shook his head. "Ma's been up in arms about it. Nana tells her it's worth learning."
A break in the crowd next to the bar parted. There appeared the same shaggy blonde hair as Kenric's on a head they both recognized. He waved over at the pair of them there.
"Oh. Look. Here he comes now."
Tilian's look did change. The standard trouser with blouse and overcoat was outshined by the noticeable leather vambraces up to each of his elbows.
When she noticed them, her eyes went straight to Kenric with whom wore a sarcastic grin.
An equally tall – though neither were compared to Eomer's gigantic height – guy followed Tilian through the aisle to Mil and Kenric. He was a bit bright eyed compared to the brothers. There was no hesitation to take her hand and shake it rigorously when introduced.
His name was Bordan. "Wow. You're pretty. How'd you start knowing a girl like her, Tilian?"
"Nice to meet you." She brought her hand back to her side before he thought about holding it for any longer.
"Her and her ma are the bakers Theoden king brought," Tilian explained. "They're the reason that the street smells so good in the morning. You don't smell it down in your shop, but the whole market smells of their bread."
Mildritha gave a polite smile under the attention. It was not often there was the repeat of affection of their baked goods. They had lived in the city long enough know that people accustomed to the goods.
"Lucky you," Bordan said. He kept a noticeable amount of eye contact. It stayed on her face. Her skin bubbled in discomfort, but it was too uncomfortable to look away. It gave an invitation for his eyes to go elsewhere. Perhaps, less polite areas. "I'm down passed the butchers, so all we've got is the smell of blood."
"Glad that's not me," Tilian laughed a polite one at Bordan's half joke.
"Surely it does not smell that bad," Kenric mused.
Bordan shrugged. The width of his body was not impressive. It was rather lean, slender. There was not depth of muscle beneath his shirt. "Depends. If it's hot and sunny, at the end of the day, it reeks. Cool days, not so much. A little waft here and there, but nothing awful like in the summer."
They spoke on their crafts. The boys filled most of the conversation as Mil listened.
She spied Denegyth out the corner of her eye. Her hands moved excitedly as she talked to the three girls nearest. The last time they spoke, a guy – not man as they were both still teenagers – was becoming a fixture in her life. He was a stable hand. Often the dense earthen scent of the stables followed him as he walked to the market stall to see her at work.
Mildritha was happy for her. The smooth motion of her smiles were as if someone ripped the stitches that kept the girl stuck in permanent appraisal.
She wondered what it felt like. Was it exciting, thrilling, overwhelmed joy, or just constant happiness?
It was silly. Under pain of death, it would never be uttered to Eowyn that a thought like that existed in her mind, but the curiosity of love found its way to Mildritha's mind. There were many shades that caught her attention. The blooming, blush pink for all the blushing that happened. The starting stage of love. Then there was the deep red passion newly weds always wore. Their throaty calls echoed out in the city on cool nights when doors and windows were kept open. There was the darkest purple of love that came from embers, love over years, that fascinated her, too, for it endured all the upheavals that life sent.
Tilian ran out of ale. They agreed to move to the bar to have their refill.
Her cup still swirled with wine. She sipped it slow. More than once, she caught Bardon's gaze just as she lipped the rim of the cup.
"Mil." Tilian's voice snapped her out of her daze.
She looked over at him. "Hm?"
"You're never this quiet. I've scarcely heard your voice this evening."
"Neither of you two give her a minute to speak," Kenric retorted.
The brothers then debated on whether ten minutes was a long time to discuss different techniques of rendering metal to a hammer or not.
It was common enough that she paid it no mind. It would fizzle out soon enough.
Tilain swept the fallen hair out of his face as he stood tall. "Forgive my brother, Mil. The lack of attention disrupts his ego. It's just in need of refilling."
"Forgive my brother, for he has no taste in style," Kenric snarled back.
An amused chuckle burst out of her lips. She hid the smile behind her hand but it was impossible to stop.
There was a sudden presence at her back. It touched the ends of her braid faintly as if pinched.
She whirled around on toe – ready to unleash a sharp correction to the staggering drunk comfortable enough to touch her hair – and saw Eomer standing there, still half dressed as a young horse lord, with hair windblown.
"Eomer…my lord," she said in a gasp.
His title was difficult to remember. It always came delayed from her lips.
Were Theoden to hear her speak plainly he'd surely punish her somehow.
Eomer smiled. It did not reach the green of his eye. That then glanced around at the company she kept in a split second before it returned to her.
"When did you return?" She asked, not bothering to wait his reply.
"Just now."
The sound of his voice was comforting. How much she yearned for it. She wanted to toss her arms around his neck and pull him close just to know he was there once more.
Then she remembered herself. "You remember Kenric and Tilian, my lord."
He dipped his head in greeting, silent and intimidating. It did not help he lurked over all their heads.
"You've miscounted. I see one more I recognize. Blacksmith, yes?"
Bordan nodded. "Yes, my lord. Bordan, son of Bebeodan."
No doubt Eomer knew all the blacksmiths in the city. They all provided knives and shields and spears and swords for the palace. Eomer had all the time in the world to peruse their merchandise in their stores with money that would buy him whatever he wanted.
"It is good to see you returned, Lord Eomer." Tilian gave a respectful bow.
Mil could feel Kenric's eyeroll from behind her shoulder.
"It is good to be returned. I have missed…" There was a catch in his voice when his eyes found hers. Both their breaths locked in the chest. "Home," he concluded.
"Would you care for an ale, my lord?" Tilian offered. The lord gave a nod of his head. He was handed a mug fresh from the bar. "Mil. More wine?"
The familiar tone captured Eomer's attention. His eyes filled with a parting distain at the man near her side.
"No. I'm all set."
Wine in her stomach once warm felt boiling hot. Her body shifted from 'I want to vomit right now' and 'he's back!' emotions. She feared any more would fill her head with an unstoppable mouth.
That was the last thing she needed.
The hall filled with excited stomping. A rhythm kept in time by the loud slamming of people's feet to the floor as one of their favorite songs started to play. It was the distraction they needed. Mildritha allowed herself a step in his direction. His fingers brushed through the pleats of her dress skirts. A palm pressed against her hip, half in a hold, before it released her at the ending of the song.
A look of pain shot across his face when she took a step back.
In private, there was no hesitation. They treated one another as equals. Unafraid to be themselves.
In the light of a public hall with dozens of people near, the lord was forced at distance. There was a difference of station. He could not do what he wanted with her. She, too, had to know her place.
However, it was no secret their time was spent together. They walked the paths of Edoras. Neither said they had to be careful. It was not spoken of at all.
There was a stilted silence as the group tried to regain footing with Eomer's presence. It was finally abandoned at the completion of Eomer's ale mug.
He set it down to the bar. "One of two things not with the Eored."
"What's the other, my lord?" Kenric asked with a furrowed brow.
"A bed," Tilian supplied.
"Pillows," Bordan said.
Mil swallowed back a smile. She knew.
"How 'bout it, Milly?" Eomer asked. "Remind me of that footwork again."
She eagerly – not too eagerly – set down her cup. A dance! It was their excuse to have their bodies unnaturally close without being scandalized.
Eomer lingered closely behind her back as she led the way through the hall. They were both given greetings from people they knew. No one objected to their dance. It was too common to have disapproval now.
True excitement filled her limbs. A strange tingle overtook every ounce of her flesh. The touch of his hand on hers had her stricken with a sharp, although delicious, sensation throughout her body. She felt hot and sensitive. The breath in her chest was harder and harder to catch.
It was stronger than every ounce of pleasure she had from holding him tight or kissing his lips. A power of new unfound strength controlled her now.
The end of the song had her exhausted. Primed awake, but body exhausted. She collapsed onto a bench, breathing heavy, not all from the dance either.
Excitement for the pair died down. The hall went back to their own excitements, not caring about the lord's return or the vigorous dance he shared. Tilian, Kenric and Bordan were somewhere else, too. They did not seek them out at the end of the song.
They were completely alone. Apart from the dozens of others inside the hall.
"You've been gone for so long," she said, unsure why.
"I know." He nodded. "I tried to come sooner. Things did not work that way."
It sent her stomach into overdrive. The churning and flutters and endless spasms had her unsure what to do.
"Eowyn must be thrilled you're home."
He shrugged. "I do not know. I've not seen her yet."
That let out a little of the high.
"Surely, you found her when you arrived and let her know of your return."
"I wanted to see you," he explained. "Time was right. Knew you'd be here." His eyes glanced around the room. "Just glad I got my dance with you first. Before they all drank up the courage to ask."
Her tongue went inside her cheek. "How do you know they hadn't gotten the courage already?"
He narrowed his eyes. "You don't drink wine after you dance. Ever. And you were still drinking wine when I arrived."
Alright. It was not the place to tease his jealousy.
"You have been gone two weeks, my lord. Someone could have gotten the courage by then."
Maybe she couldn't help but poke at him. It was her right. He left for two weeks!
That did not make her automatic best friend when he returned.
A quiet yawn stretched his mouth. She took a moment to examine him. The purple half-moons below his eyes. The dirtiness of his gear. Frayed ends to his hair.
She frowned. "You should go home. Get some rest."
"We have not been seen in so long. Let us spend some together before I return to Meduseld."
The insistence in his voice was stern. Exhausted.
All she wanted to do was spend time with him. Now that he was home, she felt at peace with the pace of her heartbeat. It no longer throbbed in woeful aching. His return made her happy.
But the state of his return. She did not like.
"Eomer, please. There is always tomorrow you might see me." She leaned forward. "Your sister has me at the palace every day, anyway. I'll pop over in the morning. Once you feel yourself."
He blinked with weary lids. The bulk of his arms crossed across his chest.
"Swear?"
It was unlike him to be distrusting.
She nodded. "What are you playing at? Course I will."
A familiar routine to part was to embrace. A stolen kiss or two. They fell into the trap of comfort out of eyesight. It was not an option in the packed hall. Perhaps it was bad enough he'd gone searching for her the moment of his return.
The second time that night, Eomer appeared pained. He gave a stiff bow. "Until tomorrow. Milly."
"Good night, my lord.
Her eyes followed his silhouette until it faded into the black of the doorframe. The ache of her heart returned. It was by luck that it was half strength of what it had taken to when he was away.
Long before his parting, Eomer suggested they never leave the hall together unless in company of another, or else it might come to question her virtue. The horse lords were not strict on their virtue. Maidens were a moral of nobles and royals. Commoners were liberated in the absence of care at the sexual exploration of their daughters.
To him, though, it mattered.
She remained in the hall no matter how her heart screamed to run after him or run to bed.
"Mil. Mil!" Denegyth waved from over at her table. A number of teenagers sat together away from the large group of their parents' drunken laughs. "Mildritha. Over here. Come sit with us."
There were scattered mugs and cups. A hound laid on half of the long bench. Saliva dripped from its mouth onto the floor. A small bone fixed between its lips.
She was welcomed into the group. A few were familiar enough. Some others required to be introduced.
They were smiling, buzzed from the warmth of the place.
"Hey. Do you want get out of here?" Denegyth asked quickly.
Mil paused. "Out. Out where."
"Fugol knows a corral that's open. We can take the horses up there, mess around."
"Won't your Ma like, freak."
Denegyth dismissed the worry. She pointed out her Ma. Half hanging onto Mil's own mother. "Looks like you won't have to worry about yours either. Come. Come on. Let's go. Have fun with us."
No. The instant answer rang clear her head. No way in hell. She had early plans.
Eomer would wake early, as he always did, in wait for her. If she did not show up, he'd be devastated. Or something different. His mood was strange tonight.
The glittery stars in all their eyes rose a concern that she could not avoid.
Horses. And drunks. Drunks on horses.
"Not too late." She raised her finger. "I have plans in the morn."
"With Lord Eomer?" Denegyth gave a sarcastic smile. "Don't worry. You'll have time to make him those sticky rolls."
The group snuck out of the hall. They made their way down the hill to the lower part of the city. A ring of fencing sat empty and dark. A few of the boys produced torches. It lit the corral with warm circles.
"Here he is. One of the few remaining Mearas blooded horses left. Most in him than any," declared a guy. A large black steed trotted behind him. It held a shiny coat. It reflected the torch light well. "Andswairen! Bow before thee. For he is mighty horse."
Their drunken laughs echoed throughout the silence of depth of night.
Many stormed the corral. The regal steed remained calm in the wake of their drunken cries and awkward staggering stances nearer.
It was a night of chaos. And continued drinking.
She meant to remain nondrinking to ensure their safety. Totally meant to. However, a homemade wine jug was produced. It was delicious.
Her and Denegyth went back and forth. They handed the large jug, each taking long gulps, savoring its tart warmth.
"Oh, that is good!" Mil howled. Her mouth swam with sweet heat.
It started a chain of giggles.
Instead of messing with horses as they intended, the group was laid out in the center of the corral staring at the open night sky. An explosion of stars sparkled. The clear expanse of sky was cut only by the mountain. The rest was a sea of shimmer through dark navy air.
Denegyth finished a gulp. Her mouth hung open, drawing exaggerated breaths, a slight puff of white cloud in the cool night. "Fugol. I could kiss you on the mouth for this. Did you make this?"
The boy nodded. He held his own bottle of wine.
"Come 'ere," she sputtered. "You're getting it. A full kiss on the mouth."
Mildritha took the jug from Denegyth's hands before it dropped to the ground. It was too sweet to waste. She pulled a sip from its small mouth. A droplet dribbled down her bottom lip.
Osburga, a neighbor from a few doors down, lifted her finger. She dragged it across her chin. "You've got something. There." Her words muttered under her breath.
"Huh?" She wrinkled her nose.
The girl continued to rub fingertips across her own face as Mil looked on, befuddled.
A guy removed a hand from his pocket, walked over and dragged a thumb gently across Mildritha's lower lip. "She means you spilled some."
His voice was so soft, it startled her back. Her feet took a few stumbles backward.
"Whoa," she voiced.
He was older with deep dark eyes. His hair was kept short at his shoulder the hue of dark blonde streaked with bits of light brown. The touch of his thumb still burned her lip. She felt it as she tried to wipe it off.
"It's gone now." The tops of his hands slipped into his leather pant pockets. He wore a vest over his white blouse shirt. It was a deeper brown than the pale leather of his pant.
"Dene. Dene!"
Denegyth had tried so hard to kiss Fugol that she fell and kissed the dusty ground instead. She staggered to standing. A thick layer of pale grime coated her face like a dusting of flour. When she coughed, plumes of the particles went airborne.
The guys laughed hard. One helped her stand upright. He held her elbow high.
"I think she's had enough," he declared.
"Good." Mil snorted. "More for me."
She tilted the glass jug back. The contents filled her mouth with that delicious sweet. It sent warmth straight to her head. It filtered through her thoughts, slowing them, fixating longer on certain ones. The taste on her tongue was thick.
The jug became lighter. It raised through the air without effort. She stared in amazement, confusion as her hand rose through the dark air with the wine jug still wrapped in her fingers when she noticed a pair of hands on the bottom of the jug.
"I think you've had plenty, too. Won't make it back home at this pace," the guy said.
Her eyes were wide. Still understanding how her hand raised without feeling like she did.
"My legs work, don't they?"
"It'll hit you soon," he assured her.
He pulled the jug. Her fingers unfolded from the narrow mouth.
She frowned and swatted nothing but open air. "Fine. Take it."
What time was it? And where exactly was home?
"Curse you, Dene. My mother's going to kill me." Her palm grinded into her eye sockets.
Sober. She needed to sober up this minute.
"Don't worry. I've got to take this mess home." It was the same guy, again, at her side, now holding Denegyth by the arm. "You aren't too far from her. I'll show you."
"How is it that you're so smart?" She snapped.
They started a trek upward. The higher through the city, the harder the climb. It burned at the back of the legs. Meduseld was at the height of the hill. It looked down on Edoras from its crest as a crown atop their backs.
The distant torches were like little bugs of light flickering as they were swept by wind.
Dene was dragged by their guide. There were times that her eyes closed and her body went limp. He managed to shake her alive to urge her farther on.
The guy had a deep voice that anchored Mildritha to the moment rather than floating off with her own daydreams brought on by the wine.
"I live in between," he stated. "It is a small neighborhood."
"Oh." She sighed.
"You alright? Slowing down back there."
Her lips lifted in a snarl. "I can walk on my own. Thank you very much. Some guy does not need help me to stagger home, like I am not fine to do it myself. Not all of us are long legged as you are, sir."
"My shoulder is apt to carry you. An offer I will extend only once."
The last thing she needed was to be carried home. Drunk was bad enough. Carried home drunk by a strange man who preceded to be a know-it-all would seal her in shame for all eternity.
She pushed her legs harder and caught up to his pace.
"I'll take that as a no." He chuckled.
Denegyth hummed. "Bawdewyn, you know Mildritha?"
"We've met," he said.
"Yeah, when he touched my lips!"
Her friend had the faculty to pretend to be scandalized still intoxicated beyond her own wiles. "Bawd. You filthy skeeve."
Bawdewyn gave a hollow exasperated look over to Mil. Her eyes blared bright in accusation. Her lips, none the less. The man touched her lips only touched by another and she knew it was too intimate for just anyone to do.
He shook his head. "Keep walking, Denegyth. You're almost home. Steer clear of that rock."
She pushed her brows together. Words refused entry to the girl's brain as wine had taken residence. It pushed out the warning like a foul bite, only to have her slip and stagger over said rock.
Bawdewyn gave a long sigh. He pulled the girl to standing. "Mess, you are," he mumbled.
Mildritha gave a silent thanks that she was not as drunk as that.
He decided to hold Denegyth against his chest to avoid any more accidents she'd been keen to have on the walk home. Her cheek then cuddled against his shoulder. Flirty nothings rambled out of her lips. It was entirely embarrassing, even for Mil standing nearby.
She gave a swallow. "She doesn't mean it. She's drunk, you know."
"It is not my first night walking her home," he answered.
"Also, she has a boyfriend."
"I have known Dene all my life. Had I wanted her, I'd have said so before now."
It was so coarse. Mil wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Said so. As if she was only there for his taking, had he the notion to want to date her.
"You Eorlingas are all the same," she grumbled.
Bawd's head perked. He moved faster in her direction. She stood in the wake of his fast charge, only to have their faces a short distance away that his features were clear enough to be looked at closely, had the wine not made him fuzzy.
He remained calm. Not even a flare to his nostril as he spoke. "That lord of yours different, you say?"
"He's not my lord." She scowled. "He's never gone so far as to assume I'm his."
Whatever she said, convinced him.
Bawd retreated. Dene still in his arms. Her shoes made lines in the dust of the path. The door of her home was near. He pulled the woman to standing, shaking her at the shoulder until her head bounced up tall.
"Go to bed," he instructed in a firm voice.
The girl nodded. Her hand lazily grasped the knob of the front door. She fell back inside, somehow without making a noise to wake the whole house. He shut the door behind her.
Mil remained glaring. She did not like this Bawdewyn.
He started to walk further down. When her footsteps did not echo his, he turned around. "Want to go home or not?"
Her fingers grasped the sides of her long skirts, pulled them from her feet and marched on by. "Fine."
It was with ease he kept pace with hers. "Whether you like it or not, that lord does lay claim over you."
"Nonsense."
The long stride of his legs near hers set her heart thundering with anger. Who in the hell did this guy think he was?
"You have fooled yourself if you believe him special."
A familiar pair of boots with a hole burned through the toe came into view. It was the pair her mother wore while baking. Her door! She rushed to it, uncaring that Bawd was steps behind her, chasing her faster, and slipped inside without another word.
He was wrong about Eomer. So wrong.
She fell into bed, fully dressed. Her legs half hung off the side. Dust from the corral dropped onto her bedspread. Instead, she closed her eyes and urged the swimming in her mind to cease.
The next moment she remembered was the blinding pain in her eyes. She rolled over to see drawn curtains letting in that morning light so clearly. In her drunken stagger, she'd forgotten to pull them back.
Light let in a violent screeching. It filled her ears and mind with its horrid pain. Only to stop when she snapped the fabric closed and shuttered her eyes for good measure.