The lady Theodwyn woke in the early hours, her back ached and she had not slept much all that night. She was heavy with child and was near her time, the midwife had warned her that second babes do not always reach full term and that this birth could be quicker. She thought back, with a grim smile, to her first born, Eomer, now a happy, delightful and oft times mischievous child of almost four summers. Theodwyn had gone through a long, painful fourteen hour birthing to deliver that particular little package, she thought glumly, wondering why she had found herself in a similar position again. If she had not loved her husband Eomund so much she would have banished him from their marriage bed, and hang the consequences….but, another babe would be lovely, a brother or sister for Eomer to play with.

She rose slowly out of bed, trying not to disturb Eomund sleeping next her, the ache in her back growing and making her gasp slightly. She carefully moved his arm, which was draped over her waist and sat up, reaching for her over- robe. She stood up and a fierce dragging pain tore through her lower back and thighs, Theodwyn leant forward a little breathing heavy and panting, awaiting for it to subside when her waters broke with a gush and she cried out with dismay waking her husband.

Eomund, immediately concerned, wrapped his arms around his beloved wife, “Is it the babe, my love? Do you need the midwife?”

Theodwyn leant back into his gentle embrace and sighed, “Yes, husband mine, I think today will be a long one for both of us.” She smiled up into Eomund’s anxious face and lightly kissed him, “Just look at this mess.” She sighed ruefully.

“No matter,” Eomund chuckled, kissing his wife back lovingly, “It will soon be cleared away, now, who first, midwife, ladies, maids, nurse-maid?” He rose and hastily dressed as he watched his wife.

“I think, “ she laughingly replied, “to awaken Hertha, and she will direct the others.”

Eomund left the bedchamber and called for the watch to summon Hertha, his wife’s personal lady, and then returned to Theodwyn’s side. Soon the whole household was awake, Hertha had sent into the town for the village midwife, the fires had been lit and the large house of the Chief Marshal was brimming with life. All were awake that early dawn, save one, in his bedchamber next to their own, fast asleep, lay their firstborn, Eomer, totally oblivious to the events that were about to happen that day.

A fast rider was sent to Edoras with a message to Theoden King to relay the news that his sister was to birth that day, many of Eomunds Eored were assembling in the large hall of his house to drink with the Marshal and while away the long hours, the ladies were in attendance with the princess.

In the middle of all this noise and confusion, a small blonde head peeped round the door into the hall, bright blue eyes watching all the coming and going, the riders laughing and drinking, the women running to and from his Mama and Papa’s bedchamber.

“My lord Eomund,” laughed Captain Thormund, “We are discovered.”

Eomund turned around to see what his captain was looking at when he also noticed his four-year old son hiding by the door shyly, rubbing his sleepy eyes blearily. Eomund walked over and scooped his son into the arms and embraced him.

“Where is Mama?” Eomer asked, worridly, “Lady Hertha would not let me see her, is she sick?” his eyes misted a little and his voice shook with fear.

“No, my son,” Eomund replied softly, “Mama is not sick, but methinks today will bring a brother or sister for you Eomer, how would you like that?”

“I would rather have a pony,” answered Eomer to the mirth and amusement of all there.

“A true son of Rohan, my Lord,” shouted Bredder, one of his Eored, “You indeed named your son well, methinks.”

Eomund laughed along with his men before he handed Eomer into the arms of one of the maids, but not before he had whispered to his son, “Fear not, Mama will be well, you will see her soon, my son. Now go and play.”

Eomer was taken up to his bedchamber, washed and dressed and taken to the house of a neighbour to play with their children while the house of Eomund was astir with its business.

It was a long morning in the house, Eomund paced the hall at times, his men trying at times to pacify him and sympathise with him for his anxiety, though the married ones had all gone through similar experiences, the bond of fellowship and friendship was very strong within the Eoreds. The sun was well past midday ere lady Theodwyn was safely delivered and the midwife came to the hall to call the Marshal into his bedchamber. He tiptoed in and found his beloved wife looking exhausted but to his eyes absolutely enchanting.

He sat next her on the bed and she placed a wrapped bundle in his arms, “You have a daughter, husband mine.” She whispered, looking deeply into his eyes.

”A daughter?” Eomund answered softly, looking down at the tiny babe within his arms. Theodwyn leant over and unwrapped their child a little so that Eomund could see his daughter’s sweet face, he kissed his wife tenderly and then kissed his tiny new child, “Hello Eowyn,” he spoke gently, “I am your Papa.”

They remained thus for a while until he could see that his wife was ready to drift off into a well earned rest. The midwife, who had been standing outside the door, came bustling in, and giving Eomund a clear message that he should be leaving.

Before he left the room Theodwyn asked in a very tired voice, “Where is Eomer? Where is our son?”

“He is playing at the house of Serthmund, having woken early and was not a bit worried about his Mama.” Eomund answered softly, “Have a sleep, beloved, and I will send and have him brought to you so he can meet his new sister.”

He kissed his wife softly again and turned to leave the room. The midwife had already placed Eowyn into the cradle next to the bed, the same one that Eomer had slept in as a babe. Before he left the chamber he looked back at his wife and new child, both were fast asleep from their exhausting journey.

He arrived in the hall of his house and all eyes were on him, “A daughter,” Eomund shouted to the massed hall, his eyes sparkled with pride and joy. A raucous cheer echoed through the house to the consternation of the midwife, but so tired were her charges that neither stirred even though many songs and cheers of good wishes for the child were made that day.

******************************************************

Eomer had had a good mornings play, he had eaten well, he had climbed trees, run around with his friends and for the last two hours had been playing in the stream trying to dam the flow of water as have all children thus at play. As a result he was very grubby and covered with mud to his great glee.

He looked up when he heard Lady Wythyn, wife to Lord Serthmund, calling his name, she froze when she looked upon the son of the Chief Marshal standing dripping in front of her. At her side a new servant to the house of Eomund dispatched to return Eomer to his home. They both looked down in dismay at this sorry sight before them.

“I…..” started Lady Wythyn, who was about to suggest a bath and clean clothes for Eomer afore he left her house but the new servant, Sathwyn, just clicked her tongue and grabbed his hand and pulled Eomer mercilessly, scolding as she went along, almost pulling his little arm from its socket in her haste.

“What your Father will say, young pup, when he sees you, I know not!” she muttered, “Today of all days you get into this state!” she went on, stopping suddenly to shake the child, “I expect your Papa to take a strap to you for this mischief.” She glowered down at Eomer and then began pulling him along at a tremendous pace. Eomer’s eyes filled with fear at this thought, and slowly a tear or two began to fall down his face. His Papa had never struck him although he knew him to be of a fiery temper, it had never been rained down upon his son. He then began to sob and whimper not a little in trepidation at the expected punishment he was about to receive.

Eventually Sathwyn arrived back at the home of the Marshal and they entered Eomer’s room, she was still berating him harshly and began to roughly pull his clothes off in preperation for a bath, when a sudden sound caused her to turn round.

There, in the doorway of his son’s bedchamber stood Eomund, an angry look on his face, Eomer paled and started trembling, waiting for the expected blow to come but instead Eomund just walked between his son and the servant and spoke quietly, “You are dismissed this day, I will see to bathing my son.” Sathwyn bobbed a quick curtsy and left the room, leaving Eomer looking up at his Papa with terror in his eyes. Eomund smiled and bent down to pick his child up, feeling his heart fluttering like a frightened bird, “Now, my son, what have you been about this day?” he asked, walking into the next room where a bath of warm water was waiting.

Eomer was placed into the bath and gently bathed clean of the grime that was smeared over his skin as was the dried mud which was plastered in tangles into his blonde mane. All the fear had gone with his Papa’s ministrations and hearing his deep voice speaking only words of love and reassurance into his ears.

When Eomer was dried and dressed in clean tunic and leggings, his Papa knelt before him and spoke in a low voice.

“Eomer, my son,” he intoned in that beloved voice, “Mama and I have a surprise for you.”

Eomer jumped and hopped eagerly, pulling his Papa forward, both of his small hands tugging at one of the Marshals large calloused ones as he tried to rush him into their large bedchamber.

“Quickly, quickly, Papa.” Eomer sang out, in joyful anticipation. “Have I got a brother or sister?” he went on, as Eomund chuckled at the impatience of his son.

“Wait and see, my son,” Eomund answered and bent to pick his excited son up before entering the chamber, lest Eomer leap and jump onto the bed as was his want to do.

Lady Theodwyn was rested after a sleep and looked to the door and smiled to see her husband and son enter. Eomer looked at his Mama with awe and frowned a little. His Mama never lay in bed, only ‘sick people’ lay in bed, his childish mind thought.

Eomund placed Eomer onto the bed and he was enveloped into the warm embrace and loving arms of his Mama as he wrapped his arms around her neck whilst she kissed his forehead and cheeks gently, whispering endearments, rocking him and caressing his small form with affection.

“Mama are you sick?” he whispered.

“No, my own, I am just resting from a small battle to bring a new babe into this world.” His mother answered, laughing softly.

“Eomer,” he heard his Papa’s voice and looked round to see him sitting next to his Mama with a small wrapped bundle. The bundle was gently passed to his Mama who pulled the blanket down so that Eomer could see the tiny face within.

“Eomer, this is your sister, Eowyn,” his Mama’s voice whispered into his ear as he gazed on his sister’s face with utter enchantment, not noticing the look of amusement between Eomund and Theodwyn.

Eomer cuddled close to his Mama and tentatively reached out a hand and stroked his sister’s cheek softly, whispering, “Hello Eowyn, I am your brother.”

He looked up as his Papa spoke, “Eomer, my son, you will help to protect Eowyn, it is your duty as a brother and a true born son of Eorl.”

“Yes, Papa,” Eomer replied dutifully, although he did not fully understand the implications behind his solemn vow to his father, but he would obey that beloved man what ever he asked him to do.

Theodwyn held both her babes and nuzzled them gently whilst Eomund wrapped his arms protectively around his young family as he gently kissed his wife, feeling her relax into his love and protection, raising her own lips to return the kiss.

TBC

Chapter two.

Scratch; scratch; scratch; The wind blew and howled round every corner of the East Mark and all were abed and asleep…all save one. Scratch; scratch; scratch…Eomer huddled under his covers, trembling with fear as the sound of claws neared closer to him. Outside the wind gusted ferociously and caused the large tree that grew next to the house to drag its branches over the wall again. A small whimper came from beneath the coverlet. Finally the thoughts of reaching his Mama and safety far outweighed all manner of monsters and foul beasts who were waiting to capture a small boy, ere he put his foot out of bed, and thus ensnare and devour him, he flew from his bed, down the corridor into the next chamber sobbing, “MAMAAAAA….!”

Theodwyn had just given suck for the second time that night and had lain Eowyn back in her cradle, replete. She lay back exhausted and felt Eomund wrap his arms around her, when a small blonde form hurtled noisily into the chamber. Both sat bolt upright as Eomer flew to his Mama in desperate need of comfort and reassurance, crying bitterly, the sounds of which roused Eowyn from her slumbers, adding her own wails to the stormy night. Eomund sighed and rose out of bed to cradle his tiny daughter and attempted to rock her back to sleep, leaving his wife to placate their distraught son. As they sang ancient Rhorriric children’s carols to their offspring, their eyes met briefly with a look of deep love, understanding and patience.

The following morn Eomund rolled onto his back, eyes focusing on the sight before him, Theodwyn nursing Eowyn in her arms, his son fast asleep between them, arms outstretched and legs splayed, he smiled at the sight and whispered, “Our daughter is but a week into this world, yet I deem she has slept and dined more than I.”

Theodwyn laughed softly, “Eowyn is certainly a hungry mite, is she not? At least she is gentle whilst feeding, Eomer was like a little wolfling in comparison.” Her eyes drifted down to the said ‘little wolfling’ with a tender expression. Eomer stirred and woke, rubbing his eyes blearily while he looked round to take in his surroundings. He smiled at his Mama and then frowned when he saw Eowyn in her arms…again. Theodwyn saw that look and held out her free arm to her anxious child, whereupon Eomer scuttled into her embrace, holding his mother tightly round the waist as she gently caressed him.

Eomund rose from the bed to wash and dress and to prepare for the day as important visitors were due and the house must needs be ready to receive. He walked back into the chamber to assist his son to do likewise, but Eomer did not want to leave the closeness of his Mama and pretended to be asleep as Eomund picked him up in his large yet gentle hands, feeling his son limp and apparently boneless. A knowing look and smile passed between husband and wife as Eomund started to tickle Eomer across his ribs, causing him to writhe and shriek with mirth. Eomund tossed a giggling Eomer over his shoulder and he waved to his Mama as he left the chamber for his own rooms. It did not matter at that moment that Eowyn had commandeered his Mama yet again, he had Papa all to himself for a while, which was a splendid thing.

After Eomer was dressed he was taken down to the dining hall for breakfast. The servants were busy about their duties, even more so this day as Theoden King was to visit his sister and new babe. Eomund had dismissed Sathwyn for the harsh way she had treated his son and the servants on realising why they were one number down, minded not, for the love and honour they bore to the family of the ruling house of Rohan. Eomund did not divulge this news for a while to his wife, knowing wisely how she wouldst have received it, especially so soon after birthing.

Later on in the afternoon Eomer was playing in the garden when he heard the shout from the watch, on a party approaching the Aldburg in the distance. Eomer was safely escorted down to the gates by Breddar, a rider of his Papa’s Eored, where a large crowd had gathered. Visitors to the East Mark meant gossip from outlying areas, be it from traders, farmers or other riders. It was a good chance to listen to news, of family and goings on elsewhere, and sometimes they spoke of small skirmishes or battles fought in defence of the Eotheod of which certain young ears loved to listen to.

The royal banner fluttering from the tips of the rider’s spears told the citizens of the township that the visitors were none other than Theoden King. Eomer jumped and hopped with excitement, being gently restrained by his keeper, lest he fall into the path of the oncoming horses. Breddar picked up his young charge to observe the oncoming host better, as the crowds pushed forward to greet their King with shouts of joy of welcome.

Theoden rode through the gates surrounded by twenty-four members of his royal guard, seasoned and fierce warriors. Prince Theodred had also accompanied and rode next to his sire. On receiving the news three days past, that his sister was to birth, caused the King much anxiety and reawakened past heartache. His dear wife Elfhild had died in childbirth bringing Theodred into the world and he had loved no other woman and had never wed again. Four years ago when Eomer was born at Meduseld he had paced and fretted more then Eomund that long, long night, memory drifting back yet again to a time when there should only be joy and celebration and not tears and sorrow, he could not have bourn to lose his beloved sister as well. When Eomer was laid in his arms by a proud Eomund, the King had loved the child instantly.

Eomund marched out to greet his king and nephew, a huge grin on his face which relieved Theoden greatly, without any words spoken. After a quick bow of reverence the two men embraced warmly, and Theodred was also welcomed as all were escorted into the halls. Eomer followed behind, after being escorted back to his home, he hid and dodged unseen behind pillars and posts to shyly watch the proceedings.

The Kings entourage were given welcome mugs of ale, horses tended, rubbed down and stabled, and the Kings Knights given billets to rest and refresh after the long journey.

After embracing his sister warmly, a small babe was placed in his arms, “Say Hailsa to your niece, brother,” smiled Theodwyn.

Theoden looked tenderly at the tiny form in his large hands. “Eowyn, we have named her, Theoden,” stated Eomund, “Is she not as sweet as her dam?” Laughter followed this remark and Theodred was reluctantly persuaded to hold his youngest cousin, rather tentatively.

The king looked round the halls, “You seem to be a babe short, where is my nephew in all this? Presents we have, my sweet sister, for you and both your offspring.”

“Presents, Papa?” stated Eomer, popping his shaggy blonde head from behind Eomund, his newest and latest vantage point.

The King laughed, “Aye, presents, young one.”

“My son, greet your King properly ere you get your gifts,” prompted Eomund. Eomer did as he was bidden and shrieked with joy as he found himself being lifted into his warrior uncles arms, and he stared unabashed into the king’s eyes, all shyness gone. Theoden gazed on his nephew, thinking how like his sister the lad was, especially around the eyes.

“You have grown a good deal since our last meeting, nephew. Methinks you will outshoot your Papa some day, “ stated Theoden.

Eomer thought this news the best ever. To be as tall as Papa, he could do anything. Wield a sword; throw a spear; ride the biggest horses; anything.

Eomer was passed to Theodred, and he looked with awe at his big cousin in full armour, “Remember me,” he asked, laughing. Eomer shook his head shyly, but was mightily impressed with his kin. Theodred put Eomer down on the floor where he fingered the armour and briefly donned his cousins helmet then dashed into his Mama’s lap, on spying it free for the time being, as Eowyn was sleeping in her cradle.

The royal party were shown to their prepared chambers to wash and refresh ere they descended to the halls for an evenings feasting and entertainment, for many songs and sagas would be related that night.

Before the feast started the gifts were given out, many old friends had sent welcome tokens for the new babe and Mother. Eomer watched as the many lacy edged garments were unwrapped and he frowned slightly to himself. How could his sister play thus dressed, such attire was not suitable for climbing trees or much fun to be had in small streams and brooks. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he heard not his name called twice by his uncle. Theoden’s gift to his nephew was a small shield, painted with the emblem of Eorl and a matching wooden sword. Eomer’s face lit up as he stammered his thanks excitedly and dashed to his Papa’s side to show him, and received a short impromptu lesson in handling his new weapons. Eomer then proceeded to scamper and cavort round the halls, fighting unseen creatures of his own imagination, to the laughter of all.

The evening was long, all enjoyed the feasting and merrymaking, and Eomer was starting to weary, his head was nodding as he felt arms picking him up, warm soft arms accompanied by the scent of wildflowers, of which would remain in his memory for ever. He curled into his Mama’s lap and fell sound asleep, not even stirring whilst being put to bed and changed from his day clothing into a sleep tunic.

Theoden stayed a month in the east mark with his sister and family. He had not seen his kin for a couple of years and was determined to spend as much time as he could before affairs of state drove him back to Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. He was not too far away to return on a swift steed should any need call him back, and almost daily couriers arrived to impart news and tidings to the King. It was with Eomund and is captains that the King met to discuss the increase of orc attacks on the borders. Several outlying villages had been raided, slaughter and foul deeds had occurred to the populace, to the consternation of all. Letters and messages were brought from the West Fold, Dunharrow and Grimslade as the other Marshals also had had troubles on their borders.

Eomer had tried on occasions to stay close to his uncle as he had been much taken with him, but on noticing his nephew’s presence the talks died on their lips, as such words were not for the ears of one so young. There would be plenty of time when the lad came of age and would be called thus to defend the Eotheod. Eomer was made to promise not to bother the men whilst they were in the private study of Eomund, which they were quite frequently in that last week and Eomer thought this most unfair.

He had been much taken when his sister was newly born, but had not realised that she would take so much of his Mama’s time. Every time he went seeking his Mama, Eowyn was there before him, and now his uncle, Papa and cousin were talking about orcs and things. He had asked many a time regarding orcs, only to be told he was yet too young for such knowledge. He knew them to be an enemy to the Eotheod and had heard homecoming riders boast about the number of them they had slain, but on noticing his eager young ears, words had been hushed and he had hastily been shoed from the stables.

The King was to return home on the morn and Eomer had not seen him or Papa all day, Eowyn had a touch of colic and was keeping Mama from him. It just wasn’t fair, he sulked, no-one wanted him anymore, he sat scowling. Well, at least Eowyn didn’t have a sword, he thought, he did, Eomer the warrior, the greatest rider in Rohan; afraid of nothing, who slew dragons daily, he had a sword.

He sat grizzling, a deep scowl on his forehead, bottom lip protruding slightly, digging into the soft earth with his sword. An older youth passing by noticed the forlorn lad with his disgruntled expression.

“Whats to do, young Eomer?” asked Mathelm, “Why the sullen face?”

Eomer looked up as Mathelm hunkered down next to him, “No-one will tell me anything Mathelm, I only want to know about orcs.”

“Orcs, eh,” answered Mathelm, with a knowing look, “Come with me an I will tell you all about orcs.”

Eomer’s face lit up with a huge smile as he stood up and took the proffered hand held out to him.

TBC.

Chapter Three.

Mathelm younger son of Framhelm, started to leave the grounds of the Marshals halls with his young admirer. He was eager to show Eomer something hidden in his barn at home. At eight summers Eomer’s senior, Mathelm two older brothers were both riders, and the oldest, Darthmund, had brought his young brother a grisly and blood wrapped trophy back from his last incursion. It was hidden in the barn ere his father, mother or sister’s should happen on it. He would show this ‘trophy ’to Eomer and explain to him all about orcs.

They were about to leave the gate from the large house when Eomer heard his name called from the direction of the kitchens. It was time for the noon - day meal and he must needs go. A look of disappointment crossed his little face briefly, but Mathelm whispered, “No matter, Eomer, I will return on the morn and shall show you something Darthmund brought me, and then you will know all about orcs.!”

Eomer was so excited and waved farewell to his friend ere he ran into his house, whereupon he was met by a servant who checked his hands and face afore letting him near the tables. As Eomer sat to dine he noticed that though the hall was full of other people, none were his family. His Papa, Uncle and Cousin were still locked in Eomunds study in conference. His Mama was taking a nap as Eowyn had been up most of the night and as she lay in her cradle asleep, Theodwyn took advantage of this and rested also. He ate his bread, meat, cheese and fruit with a heavy heart.

He left the dining halls and sat alone in the garden, playing with his wooden horses, one sunny corner of it having been turned into a small stable and battle area for the said toys. So intent was he on his game that he noticed not a large shape walking in his direction.

The sudden pressure of a large hand on his shoulder made Eomer look up with a start. There grinning down at him was Theodred, Eomer threw himself into his big cousins arms, “Theodred, can you play with me.” He pleaded.

Theodred laughed, “What about a ride, cousin, the talks have finished for the day and your Papa sent me out to see how you fare.”

“A ride?… On Feyerth?…Will he let me?” gasped Eomer with shock.

Feyerth was a Mearas stallion, ridden only by the Prince, but because of the blood flowing in the young ones veins, Theodred had no reason to doubt that his horse would object to carrying this particular small passenger.

Messages had been left in the halls as to the whereabouts of the prince and young lord, as Theodred walked hand in hand with a highly delighted Eomer to the stables.

There in large stalls were his Papa’s stallion and also those belonging to the King and Theodred. Feyerth was saddled and Theodred lifted Eomer up to stroke and caress the sides and flanks of the mighty dark grey beast. Feyerth accepted the butterfly touch of the young boy, recognising instantly the blood flowing through him. Theodred swung into the saddle and Breddar passed Eomer into his arms and settled him in front of him on the saddle.

It was inconceivable that the heir of Rohan should ride out alone, and more especially today as he was carrying fragile goods. A small party accompanied, six of the Kings knights and Breddar from Eomunds Eored. The immediate area round Aldburg was not always safe and though this was merely a pleasure outing, all the riders were aware of such potential dangers.

The ride was fast and joyous, the leagues pounding underneath Feyarth’s mighty hooves, the sound of which drummed into the very soul of Eomer. It always did, as his Papa had taken him on many a jaunt, when time and safety allowed. Eomer had sat a horse since a babe, held in his Fathers strong hands, and had long been allowed to do small tasks in the stables, under watchful and loving eyes, tasks suited to one of his stature. He longed for the day when he could ride one of the big chargers, but enjoyed this ride for the moment, pretending it was he controlling the Mearas and not his cousin.

A rather hot and happy party arrived back at the town, they had been gone rather longer than originally intended and Eomund was not a little anxious and was about to ride out himself to seek for his young one. It was to smiles of relief that Eomer was handed down into his Papa’s arms and taken to the halls to wash and change before evening meal.

A large feast was held that night for all, as the King and his son would depart back to Meduseld at daybreak. Eomer spent most of the evening sat alternately upon the laps of his uncle and cousin, eventually seeking a softer and more comforting lap when he felt sleepy.

The morning broke grey and drizzly, and all the household was astir to bid farewell and safe journey for Theoden. A very bleary eyed Eomer was held in his papa’s arms, still in his night tunic and wrapped snugly in a blanket for warmth. He was fondly embraced and bade farewell by both king and prince and then the same between the adults present. Eomer semi-dozed on Eomund’s shoulder watching the royal party leave the Aldburg, until they were mere dots in the distance, ere sleep overtook him again.

It was mid-morn ere Eomer opened his eyes fully and feeling ravenous. He had woken in his parent’s large bed and heard his Mama’s voice near at hand, singing gently. He slid from the bed, walking to find the source of that melodious sound, of which he had adored since his birth. Theodwyn was singing to Eowyn as she gently bathed his little sister, and did not notice her young son standing behind her. With his Mama busy…again, he turned to seek others, but the halls were strangely quiet since the departure of the King and his company. Eomer padded into his rooms and took off his night tunic and attempted to dress himself. He struggled a little, but managed to don his clothes, his tunic was on inside out, but he was mightily pleased with the result of his efforts.

He walked down to the dining halls and got some bread and cheese from the table and popped an apple up his sleeve for later. As he went outside into the still dull day he could see Mathelm awaiting him, leaning on the wall. Mathelm waved and Eomer dashed over to him.

“Come on sleepy,” he said to Eomer, rubbing his still bed tousled hair, “I have been waiting for you for near an hour. Do you still want to see what Darthmund brought me from the borders?”

Eomer was so excited he started jumping and trying to tow Mathelm out of the grounds with much haste.

“Is it an orc?” he squeaked with joy.

“Well,” Mathelm crinkled his nose and pondered, “It is….PART of an orc.”

Eomer’s eyes grew wide; this was good, he would now see an orc, and he had a sword so could slay one himself, if needed. He carried his sword with him always, in fact since Theoden had given the toy to his nephew, it had barely left his side and had had to be extricated from within his bed-covers on a few occasions, to the despair of his mother and amusement of his father.

Eomer was so excited on leaving the confines of his home he had totally forgotten he was not allowed to do so without an escort and without permission. It was not dangerous within the perimeter of the town, but the streets could be very busy and the area near the stables could be quite hazardous to one so small.

As they left the gates to walk through the middle of the town to the house where Mathelm lived, an observant pair of eyes watched from the stables. As the two youngsters chatted happily as they walked, they noticed not that a tall rider was following at a distance, keeping out of sight as he followed along behind them.

As they neared the house of Mathelm, Eomer was bade to wait by the fence as Mathelm checked to see if his Papa was about. He knew his mother and sister’s were in the house, as they were busy with domestic duties. He crept into the barn to check if the ’item’ was still in its secret place. The said ‘item’ was wrapped in a black blood stained cloth and was beginning to smell, but it was still recognizable and Mathelm was proud of his present from his eldest brother, he had been very popular among his own age group, being in possession of such a gift.

Eomer sat impatiently on the fence wriggling in joyful anticipation, waiting for his friend to reappear with the ‘surprise’. His head turned as he heard someone approaching from behind, he smiled shyly as he recognised Framhelm, Mathelm’s sire.

“Son of Eomund, what do you here, so far from your home?” he questioned, towering over Eomer, looking down at him with a grim expression.

A second voice added, “I woudst ask the same question, youngling,” stated Breddar, eye-brows raised and a quizzical look on his face. He had followed Eomer from the stables, knowing full well the lad had left his home without the knowledge of Eomund.

Eomer hung his head, and reddened slightly, not knowing what to say, knowing he was in the wrong for leaving the safety of his home unknown, and realising he could be in big trouble.

A voice shouted from the barn, “Eomer, I have it, come and see!”

Framhelm walked in the direction of his youngest’s voice, surprising his son, appearing suddenly before him. “What in the name of Bema…..” he bellowed, causing many heads to turn to look for the source of that cacophony.

Breddar remained with Eomer, standing rather intimidatingly over the son of his Marshal. He was a young rider, devoted to Eomund, and in turn had much affection for his offspring, often looking out for the young lord, as he had today. He had noticed the lad leaving the safe confines of his home with a much older and more worldly youth. Breddar had been slightly suspicious of the older lad’s intentions and followed instinctively.

Framhelm stormed out of the barn leading a bawling and squirming Mathelm by one of his ears, and holding a black stained wrapped bundle in his other hand, the stench of which was unmistakable to every rider present.

*****************************

Back in the Marshal’s house, Eomund had left his study and crept into his bedchamber, both wife and baby daughter were asleep. He smiled fondly and he left as quietly as he came and went seeking his son, thinking to take Eomer to the stables. Eomer was no-where in the house, so Eomund checked the grounds. As he approached the corner where his son was want to play, he noticed the abandoned toys, and more, the gate wide open and swinging slowly in the light breeze that had just started to build.

Eomund frowned deeply as he walked to the stables, thinking to find his son there. The stable areas were busy as usual, but no sight of his young one, but on inquiring he was told that Breddar might know, but he was not to be seen either.

**********************************

As soon as Breddar saw and smelt the war trophy, he turned Eomer round and marched him hastily from the barn area. Eomer did not understand what was wrong, he trembled slightly, tears prickling his eyes, wondering why Framhelm was so angry and why was Mathelm sobbing loudly?

The noise had brought the whole household of Framhelm from the kitchens, and a few neighbours had gathered, attracted by the commotion.

“Where in the name of Eorl, did this come from,” Framhelm bellowed at his youngest, waving the bundle.

Mathelm could not lie, “Darthmund brought it for me,” he sobbed back.

“And you would show this to a mere lad?”

“He asked me about orc’s Papa, I only thought to inform him.”

“And give the babe nightmares for weeks on end, and your father thrown into the cells by the Marshal for traumatizing his son! Have you and your brother no sense?”

Framhelm released his son and Mathelm rubbed his reddened ear, trying to get the blood to flow again. “Into the house with you, remain indoors until I decide what’s to do.” He roared.

Mathelm ran to his Mother as if the very orcs of Mordor were behind him and Framhelm looked round for where the Rider was shielding the marshals son. Eomer himself was by now terrified, he did not understand what he had done wrong, and when Framhelm walked up to speak with Breddar, he started to whimper a little, and hid slightly behind his legs.

“Please convey to the Marshal that this issue will be dealt with,” he nodded to Breddar.

“As you will, Framhelm,” Breddar agreed, reaching down to comfort Eomer with one hand, as he could feel him clutching his leg tightly.

Framhelm strode away, first to light a fire to rid his holding of the trophy and its stench, and secondly to deal with his oldest and youngest child.

Breddar looked down at Eomer, “Well lad, let’s to home,” he spoke sternly,” I know not what your Papa will say about this business.”

Huge tears ran down Eomer’s face as they walked in silence to his father’s halls and whatever awaited him there.

TBC.

Orcs and Babes.

Framhelm quickly lit a small fire as far from his house as possible and engulfed the ‘trophy’ within its flames, riding his holding of such an obscene relic. He stared into the distance seeming in a trance while the fire consumed it, then turned sharply as he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and he looked down to see his wife, Ferthwyn, by his side. He sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, knowing full well why she had come to him.

Framhelm had been a young boy, when orcs attacked the small village where he lived. His father had the hindsight to hide his only child and wife, before he and all others in the village were tortured and slain. When the orcs discovered Framhelm’s mother they had crowed with glee on finding more sport, and commenced to pull her from her place of concealment. She had quickly embraced Framhelm and pulled the side-knife she carried to put to the throat of her beloved son. The orcs, on noticing that their quarry would soon be lost to them, fired an arrow killing her outright. Before the enemy could get their hands on the young boy, the timely arrival of Eomunds father, Deor, with many riders at his command, thundered into the village to the dismay of the orcs and all were destroyed. Deor had taken the small shocked Framhelm back to the Aldburg and delivered him to his aunt and uncle to be raised and loved as their own.

Memories, long since hidden and pushed back into the recesses of his mind, had come rushing back with a vengeance as he entered the barn and saw what his youngest was holding aloft. Framhelm had been a rider in his youth, he rode on many patrols and had slain orcs in abundance, the two elder of his sons doing likewise and he had been most proud of their prowess …until now that is.

Ferthwyn caressed her husband’s face gently, “He is but a child, husband, you will be not too harsh with him? She asked, knowing her husband well, but worried for the safety of her youngest.

“Aye, wife,” he sighed, “I hear you, but punishment shall not go un-noticed this day after these doings, come, let’s to the house and deal with it. Methinks we will be seeing the Marshal anon.” He kissed his wife gently to reassure her he would not be too aggressive in doling out retribution on his son’s, and they walked slowly side by side into the house.

*********************************************

Eomund paused by the stables, pondering his next move. His young son was no-where in the house or its vicinity, nor any where near the stables; the stables being the next most beloved place of his four year old, after his home. ‘Where in the name of his Forefathers could he be’ he thought angrily and not a little anxious for his safety.

He decided to walk further into the town, hoping to see his son or else ask any as to his whereabouts. Eomund strode forward on his long legs, anger building, anger and deep disappointment, he had thought he had drilled some basic simple rules into his young son.

Eomund had not gone far when he noticed Breddar approaching from the west of town. He let out the deep breath he had not realized he had been holding when he saw his errant son being firmly escorted by the rider.

As they drew level with Eomund, Breddar stopped suddenly, causing Eomer to almost loose his footing. He had been dragging his feet, not wanting to reach home any sooner than necessary, and his sight was rather diminished by the huge tears that flowed unchecked down his face. He sniffed despondently and looked upwards as to the reason of the sudden halt, only to see standing before him the towering large frame of his father, his face a mask of anger.

This caused Eomer to suddenly burst into the most piteous sobs, which initially softened the heart of the Marshal. He was so relieved to see his son safe that he wanted no more than to fiercely embrace him, but on noticing the grave expression of his rider, he realized that some mischief had been committed this day.

“What is all this, Breddar?” Eomund asked a little anxiously, fearing his son may have taken some hurt.

Breddar gave a short bow to his Marshal, “Lord Eomund, I saw your son leave with the youngest of Framhelm, and followed to see what they were about.”

“And…” said Eomund.

“It would seem, Lord, that following his latest patrol, Darthmund brought home a ..shall we say…orc helmet and occupant, to show to his younger brother, a sight of which he was to show in turn to..” he looked down at Eomer.

“Eorl’s balls,” exclaimed Eomund with loud fervour, running his fingers through his hair as he was want to do when angry. He was about to march to the holding of Framhelm to vent his spleen there and then on the man, but the cries and sobs of his young stopped him. He reached down, lifted and held Eomer tightly within his arms to comfort him, he realized that his son had had fright enough this day, there would be time for explanations and recriminations later, when his son was calmer and more at peace.

“Sorry..Papa….Sorry…Papa…” Eomer gasped between breaths as his tears were still in full flow.

“Hush, little one, no one will harm you, hush, hush,” he whispered back in turn.

“Framhelm sends notice that he is to deal with son’s, lord,” stated Breddar. “I would suppose you would see him anon?”

“Aye, Breddar, but not before I settle this tearful one with his Mama,” he replied,” I wouldst not add to his distress with harsh words… just yet…they can wait.” He smiled grimly, rubbing Eomer’s back gently, as his tears were still rife. “I wouldst thank you for your intervention, it is noted.”

Breddar brushed off his Marshal’s thanks, it was duty of love in which Breddar served his lord.

The two Rhorririm went their separate ways, Breddar back to the stables to check his horse and continue his work, and Eomund, still toting his distraught son, to seek his wife ere he paid Framhelm a visit.

Theodwyn was awake and sewing in her chambers, Eowyn being deftly rocked as she worked, one stockinged foot resting gently on the rim of the cradle. She looked up with a smile as she heard the approaching footfall of her husband, then suddenly she stood up and dropped her needlework as she heard the sobs of distress coming from her son.

As Eomund opened the door Theodwyn rushed to his side, her voice shaky and tears already forming in her dark eyes.

“Eomer..is he harmed, my love…is he hurt…” she gasped, holding her arms open to receive his sobbing form, kissing him lightly and whispering words of love to him.

“Nay, wife, he is not harmed any, I will explain when he is settled more, he has had a fright though, and took himself off from his home without thought to inform any. Of that we shall have words….the morrow will be soon enough.” Eomund added.

Eomund left his wife to comfort Eomer and left his halls to visit Framhelm, seeking answers to his many questions. He was angry, with Eomer for leaving the safety of his home, with Darthmund for bringing such a trophy back to the Aldburg and also to a lesser degree, with Mathelm, for seeking to educate his youngling in such a way. Even Framhelm, came under Eomunds scrutiny for giving Eomer a scare, although he had to admit that was his Paternal side speaking and not because he was Marshal and Lord over all who dwelt in the East Mark

************************************************

As Framhelm opened the door to his large house all the siblings jumped to their feet in apprehension. He walked into the kitchen and stood by the fire, looking at each of his children in turn, Ferthwyn by his side.

“Wife,” he spoke gently, “Take Framwyn and Breawyn to their chambers,” he nodded in the direction of his two daughters. Ferthwyn left the room, with an arm round each, pausing to look back anxiously at her husband, Framhelm walked to the door and closed it behind them, but not before he had gently squeezed one of his wife’s hands, as if to reassure her he would not be too harsh.

Mathelm was huddled close to his brothers, trembling with dreadful anticipation. Darthmund felt bold enough to speak first, “Father, by your leave, please blame and punish me, for this is my folly only. I ne’er thought any harm would come of this.” Framhelm sat down wearily, he was a fair man and loved his family deeply, “Then what did you think would come of this?” he asked eventually.

“Father?”

“ I would hear an explanation of these deeds, is it not enough to know that these creatures dwell upon our lands, than you must needs bring them to your home, to my home.” Framhelm stood up and started to walk about, “What if your Mother or sisters should have happened on it?”

“We had it well concealed,” piped Mathelm, of a sudden.

“Of that I have no doubt, else the stench would have travelled for miles ere today.” Framhelm bellowed back, causing his youngest to tears. “I know not what Lord Eomund will have to say, I should warn you that I expect him at any time.”

This news caused the two older brothers much anxiety, Darthmund and Freamer, were both riders in the marshals Eored. It was bad enough to face the wrath of their father, but Eomund was a different matter entirely. Of all the children in Aldburg, it would be the young son of the Marshal that Mathelm had chanced upon to show his gift to.

“Father,” Darthmund ventured, pausing to gulp when the cold stare of Framhelm fell upon him, “We would ask your forgiveness and seek to apologize to Lord Eomund, if you will accept it?”

Darthmund looked at his son’s, pausing to speak to Freamer, “Dids’t you know also of this prank?”

Freamer hung his head, “Yes Father, we were…..”

A sudden loud knocking on the door of his house startled everyone. Framhelm rose to answer and the brothers looked at each other with dread when they heard their father’s voice, “Lord Eomund, please enter, my son’s await within.” He bowed slightly to his Leader and opened the door to where six pairs of eyes watched as the large, powerful Marshal entered the room and cast his steely glare on the guilty trio.

TBC

Orcs and Babes.

Theodwyn held her sleeping son close, lightly brushing his long hair from his face. His tears had worn him out and she cherished holding him thus. Since Eowyn’s birth the small frowns and scowls from her eldest had not gone unoticed, especially whenever she was attending the babe. She had spoken of her concerns to her ladies, most of whom were older and had all gone through similar experiences. She was told not to fret as it was normal for older siblings to feel anxious and un-loved when a new babe was added to the family unit. ‘Patience my Lady’ they had said,’ Eomer will find his own level and come to love and care for her in his own time.’

She had accepted this and not caused any fuss with her young son whenever she was tending Eowyn, trying also to make herself as accessible as normal for whenever he needed her, today being one of those days, the lady thought grimly. She knew he had to be spoken to and punished upon leaving the safety of their home and would be glad when this was over. Eomer must needs to be aware of his wrong doings, his very safety, living in such tenuous times was paramount. She knew her husband wouldst not strike their son, such physical abuse was beyond him, but lessons would need to be learned. Her husband was stern but not cruel, and he expected a high standard of behaviour both in his home and within his Eored. Eomund had much respect and admiration throughout the East Mark, all looked to and loved their Marshal for the unconditional protection that he gave to the people dwelling in that area of Rohan. Because of this, the rider’s loyalty to their Lord was total and feely given in return.

************************************

Framhelm walked by his Marshal as he escorted him to the gates of his holding, both wore grim expressions as to the events of the deed done this day.

“I wouldst thank you, Lord, methinks my sons will feel this punishment more keenly than any chastisement that I could have given,” he stated.

Eomund nodded, “Aye, both will want to redeem themselves, both in my eyes and with the rest of the Eored. When they have proved their worth they will be reinstated as riders, a little menial work would not come amiss. The lesson will be duly learnt, and knowing how others take the news woudst cut more deep than any knife wound.”

Framhelm laughed grimly, “Lord, you have been most fair in this, and not without your own young one suffering as result. I wouldst apologize, for I think I rather startled him this day.”

“Accepted, Framhelm,” Eomund smiled back, “I myself will speak to him on the morrow, and even now is being comforted by his mother I deem.”

“As are mine own I wouldst think, while I am out of the house and earshot.” Framhelm added to the laughter of both men.

“One thing I will admit to and admire though it pains me to say, Framhelm?”

“My Lord?”

“Their ingenuity, friend, hiding such a malodourous object, in a concealed box under a camouflage of manure and straw, ‘tis no wonder that you suspected not, all trace being obscured thus. Although I wouldst not admit this face to face, you understand.” Eomund finished, slapping Framhelm across the shoulder.

Both men clasped arms and bade each other a good evening ere they both departed to their respective homes.

As Framhelm entered his home again all were sat round the table waiting to sup. He spoke not and moved to wash his hands in the bowl of warm water held by his oldest daughter, Framwyn. He smiled and caressed her cheek ere the family sat together. All eyes followed as he sat, “ I wouldst wish this day forgotten and spoken no more about. Your punishment I hope you deem not too harsh, I support Lord Eomund on all fronts. Work hard, and your place in the Eored will be assured, but only if you have learnt from this… I trust you have?”

“Yes, father,” muttered Darthmund and Freamer. They were both still cowed by the loud angry tirade of their Marshal, but realised the futility of any protestations. To lose their positions in the Eored was the worse thing that could have happened and both felt it keenly.

“And Mathelm, a few weeks helping your mother will soon cool your heels, I myself will inform as to when you have redeemed yourself. I trust you are agreeable to this?” Framhelm looked upon his youngest with a small smile, encouraging Mathelm to dash over for an embrace from his father. “Sorry, Papa,” he whispered, “ I will work hard, I promise.”

“That is all I would ask of you my son,” he stroked his son’s head, and stared at the older two,” That is all I would ask of you all. This day I have be quite ashamed of my son’s.”

Darthmund and Freamer, both rose and walked to the side of their father and knelt before him to beg forgiveness, of which was given.

“Well, wife,” he went on, “Let’s to dine then, my belly is calling for food!”

*********************************************

Eomund walked down through the town heading slowly to his own house and meal, he would keep an eye on Framhelm’s two sons. Both were grown men and were hailed as fine warriors for their age. That they would eventually rejoin the Eored, he had no doubts, but not yet awhile, not until he was sure of their contrition. It was with these thoughts that he walked into his halls, making his way to his private chambers to wash and change ere the evening meal.

Theodwyn was awaiting him, an earnest expression in her eyes.

“What is this look for, wife,” he asked amused.

“ I but worry for the morn when you do speak to our son,”

Eomund walked over and wrapped his arms round his wife’s waist and they embraced, “I shall not be too harsh on him, beloved, I would but only speak so he understands his wrong doings.”

“I know, but…”

“You are his Mama, and would protect him from all, including his sire, am I right,” he kissed her lightly.

“Oh, you are right, I know I am over protective.”

“ ‘Tis only nature,” he whispered, covering her neck with gentle kisses, “Where is Eomer, by the by, and my daughter?” he added between kisses.

Theodwyn sighed, “Both abed, and hope I do they shall both remain so for the rest of the evening,” she raised her lips to Eomund for a deeper and more passionate kiss.

“As do I wife,” Eomund murmered, “As do I.”

************************************************

The morn saw Eomer awake early, he padded on bare feet into his parents room, both were asleep and he went to the bed- side to face his mother and stared at her for a while, trying to will her to waken. He sighed when he realised the futility of this, to make a noise might wake Papa also, and he did not want to rouse his father…just yet. He decided to go back to his room and play with his toys ere his mother woke and on his way out of the chamber he looked down at his sister fast asleep in her cradle. He scowled deeply thinking, ‘Mama would soon stir if the babe was awake’ he looked back to the bed and then just as he was about to give the cradle an almighty push, his Papa, stirred in his sleep and moved slightly. This caused Eomer to panic and run full pelt back to his own chamber, whereupon he buried himself under the blankets feinging sleep. When he realised that Papa had not woken, he climbed out of his bed for the second time and proceeded to play with his toy horses on the soft throw by his window.

Within the hour Theodwyn rose to nurse Eowyn and the sounds of this brought Eomer back into his parents room. He paused at the door, watching his mama and sister, and then left just as quickly and quietly. He settled himself by his chamber window resting his head in his arms and watched all the early morning activities that were unfolding outside. He sighed deeply and then a sudden pressure round his waist roused him from his reverie. The soft arms and heady scent told him it was his Mama, she held him close as she walked back to her bedchamber and settled Eomer between Eomund and herself. There he lay content within his Mothers arms.

“Good morrow,” a deep voice whispered suddenly, as Eomund leaned over to kiss his wife. Theodwyn looked deep into her husband’s eyes, blushing slightly at the recollection of the previous night. Eomund chuckled that she should blush so, even though she was mother of two.

Eomer looked between his mother and father, his eyes large and round, wondering why they were laughing softly together. He felt his fathers large hand stroke his hair, “Eomer, my son, how about a trip to the stables after breakfast….”

“Yes, Papa,” Eomer finished before the full question was asked.

“Let me finish, hasty one, “ Eomund laughed again, “And if we have time….a ride perhaps…….would you like that?”

“Yes, Papa,” Eomer crawled over to his Papa, and sat atop him and then climbed over him to try and hurry his father along. “I am hungry now Papa,” he stated.

“Are you indeed,” laughed Eomund and Theodwyn together.

After breakfast Eomer waited impatiently, wriggling and kicking his legs as he sat, his mother asbent- mindedly reaching out a hand to still him while she had Eowyn resting over her shoulder, being burped. At the same time she was chatting to the female servants on their duties for the day.

Eomund had gone into his study to receive the morning reports ere he ventured out with his son. He had been absent from patrols since the birth of his daughter and the visit from the King and even soon would be out in the field with his men. But today he needed to spend with his first born, Eomer needed to understand why he had incurred the wrath of his Papa.

When Eomund re-entered the dining halls Eomer leapt to his feet and dashed to his side, swinging on his elbow. Eomund lifted him upside down as Eomer shrieked and giggled with delight.

He walked over to his wife, Eomer still dangling thus, and sat for a quick bite and sup ere they left. Eomer remained on his Papa’s lap, head on his knees and legs wrapped round his waist, quite content. Theodwyn leant down to give her son a kiss and tickle before they left the halls, Eomer riding on Eomunds back as they left.

In the stables Eomer was perched upon a large bale of hay as he watched his father saddle his stallion, Windstorm. He had done various small chores under the watchful eye of the marshal and grooms who were about their daily routine. Windstorm was a gentle beast whenever his master, and young master were around but kicked up a credit to his name if any other were dealing with him. The sight of a young four year old walking calmly underneath the giant warhorse brought many exhalations of breath and shaking of heads from the stable hands. Even Galdor, who had run the stables years beyond reckoning, dare not even enter the stall if Windstorm were out of sorts.

Eomund mounted his stallion and Galdor passed Eomer up to settle on the front, he wrapped one arm round his waist and pressed Windstorm to walk forward. When they were free of the gates to the township, Eomund urged his horse to a canter and then a full gallop. With the wind blowing in Eomers face and pressed back into the tight embrace of the man he worshipped, at that moment he was the happiest child in all of Rohan if not Middle Earth.

They did not stray too far from safety, two dozen watchful riders were ever in eyeshot of their Marshal and young son, nothing was ever left to chance for the protection of loved ones.

By mid-day a small stream had been reached and Eomund dismounted and lifted Eomer from the saddle, to first run behind a tree to relieve himself, and then to settle down by the running water for lunch. Eomund first unsaddled Windstorm, covered him with a blanket and let him graze contently and then father and son sat on the grass and ate their lunch.

The day was warm and hazy and Eomer leant sleepily upon his father’s chest, and was beginning to drowse in the heat.

The sound of his father’s voice brought Eomer from his pending slumber. “Son, may I talk to you about your grandfather…. my father?”

“Grandfather, Deor?” Eomer asked with interest, looking intently at the man he adored.

Eomund smiled with love into his sons’ eyes, “Yes, grandfather Deor”.

TBC.

Orcs and Babes

He had ridden long and hard, his horse was near exhausted but still bravely carried his rider, only the knowledge that he was but an hour from the Aldburg and safety kept Beorwine going, aye, and if truth be told, a warm bed and mug of ale also. He was the bearer of grim tidings, sent by Leowulf, chief of a small town on the borders. He knew the news would be unwelcome but necessary. Large parties of orcs had been sighted and innocent blood had been shed. Lord Eomund must be informed for the protection of all in his care in the East Mark

Beorwine paused to check over his shoulder and scan the horizon, before he pressed his horse on further and faster with words of encouragement, his faithful steed complying instantly and with total trust.

Within the hour he was being hailed at the gates and welcomed into the township. The sweat and foam covering his horses’ flanks showed as to his haste to reach his destination. The sight of this brought many curious townsfolk from their various places of work, casing many tongues to wag as to the hurried arrival of this rider from the borders.

Beorwine instantly dismounted and handed his horse into the care and protection of the stable master. He knew, as did all Rohirrim, that wherever in the Mark they would travel their horses would be well tended. He leant wearily for a minute on his horse, stroking the great flanks and whispering his thanks as to relaying both to safety. Galdor gently led the tired beast into a loose stall and attended his needs.

As Beorwine walked from the stable he was hailed by Breddar, the two Rohirrim were of an age and had drawn swords together on a few occasion. Both grinned as they approached each other.

“Hailsa, friend, it is good to meet with you again,” said Beorwine.

“And also with you, hailsa and welcome, you have ridden hard and must be ready for a bite and sup,” answered Breddar, as they grasped each other’s forearms, before embracing heartily.

“Both will be welcome, but I have news that cannot delay any longer, news that must be related forth with to the Marshal,” gasped Beorwine, still slightly out of breath from his energetic ride. “Is the Lord Eomund within,” he asked nodding to the well guarded halls.

“Aye, he is, come with me and I will have you announced,” Breddar answered with a small frown as they walked towards the halls of the marshal. That he was the bearer of ill tidings, went through Breddar’s mind as they approached the large oaken doors.

Eomund was in his study when a knock on his door announced the arrival of the messenger from Leowulf.

“My lord Marshal,” spake the messenger, “I convey grave tidings from Lord Leowulf.” Beorwine bowed low as he passed a scroll to Eomund. He unwrapped the torn parchment and read the hastily scrawled message.

“Rider, when didst the orcs attack the herdsfolk,” Eomund asked with a stern look on his face, his eyes icy cold.

“But, two nights ago Lord, I was dispatched almost instantly to seek for your aid.”

“On which you and your chief will have, my kinsman,” answered Eomund with a grim smile. “But say, you have ridden hard and must needs to take your ease and refresh yourself, Beorwine, you will find food and drink in the halls.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Beorwine bowed his acknowledgment and walked wearily to one of the tables where he was served almost instantly with a plate of food and large mug of ale.

Eomund called for Breddar to assemble the Eored, it would leave within the hour. He would meet to council with his captains but not before he had relayed the news to his beloved wife Theodwyn.

Theodwyn had settled both her offspring down for the night. Eomer, lay fast asleep in his bed, one hand still clutching the hilt of his sword, gentle resistance was met as she gently drew it forth, in its place she lay a small grey woollen horse. In his sleep Eomer reached out to clutch this toy and cuddled it close. He may be the son of a mighty warrior, but he was still a little boy, needing to be loved and comforted by familiar things Long had this toy been a favourite and many the night he had been tearful and not slept ere it was found and placed in his possession again.

Eomund found her thus, sat by the bedside of his son, watching as he slept, the sound of his breath barely audible. He stood a while watching, etching to memory the sight before him, a sight of which was to return to his mind some years later…… upon a grim day when he and his small party of riders were ambushed by orcs.

Theodwyn looked at him with a smile, which soon vanished when she saw the expression in her husband’s eyes.

“Is there trouble, beloved, do you have to ride?” Tears formed in her eyes as Eomund wrapped his arms around his wife and embraced her.

“Aye, sweetling,” he answered, with a gentle kiss atop her head, “We ride to the aid of Leowulf.”

A gasp escaped from Theodwyns lips, “The herds…”

“Orcs have attacked the borders, a large party. I wilst know more when I get there, the Eored rides within the hour.”

Long minutes were spent just holding each other. Both husband and wife knew the dangers of such sorties, it was their way of life, but it still did not make the leaving any easier.

The riders had gathered, near all the town was astir to watch the departure and with a deafening thunder of hooves the Eored galloped out of the gates and headed towards the borders and to the aid of Leowulf.

Theodwyn stood like a statue watching the riders disappear into horizon, until it was too dark for her to see more. She shivered and her maid tentatively suggested she return into the halls ere she took a chill. She let herself be persuaded to return to the warmth and comfort of the halls. The evening meal was rather a sombre affair, there were songs but of rather a mournful sort. Groups sat whispering and talking over the news from the borders, all were hopeful that this engagement would be carried out without too much risk of harm to their loved ones.

******************************************

Eomer woke up at dawn, he lay in his bed awhile thinking over the previous day. He had had a lot of fun with his Papa. They had ridden long and fast and his father had let him hold the reins of Windstorm so Eomer had actually been in control of the grey charger. And he had let Eomer unbuckle the saddle and put the blanket on when they had returned to the stable. Even Galdor said he was getting bigger and would be a great rider some day, when he was older. Then he would ride Windstorm himself, ride next to Papa in his Eored, ride to slay all enemies and be a hero of the Mark.

Excitedly he scrambled out of bed intent on dashing into his mother and father’s chambers to see if his Papa could take him out again that day. The large chamber was but dimly lit by a single candle, he stopped to peep into the cradle, his baby sister lay fast asleep her arms held high, little fists clenched by her head.

“Eomer, is that you?” he heard his Mama whisper.

“Mama,” cried Eomer, running and jumping onto the bed as Theodwyn wrapped her arms round him and he cuddled her back. He giggled as he felt tickly kisses on his belly, hearing his mother’s soft laughter joining his.

As he wriggled away from his Mama’s determined teasing, Eomer suddenly noticed the bed bereft of his father, causing him to sit up suddenly.

“Where is Papa?” he asked in a panicked voice

“He has had to ride to the borders.” his mother whispered back, trying to make her voice calm.

“He did not say good-bye.” sniffed Eomer, tears starting in his eyes.

“Oh yes he did, my own,” Theodwyn replied softly, “Whilst you were abed.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

Eomer, now subdued crawled back into his mothers’ arms, unhappy by this news, but determined to be brave. As he lay thus, his thoughts drifted yet again to the previous day and to the story his Papa had told him.

“Will there be orcs …?” his whispered.

Theodwyn held him closer, “Yes, my own, I fear there may be.” She kissed him lightly in reassurance.

Eomer scowled fiercely, he did not like orcs, not after what his Papa had told him. He hoped they would all be killed and when he was older he would kill them himself.

Eowyn chose that moment to start to wail for a feed, Theodwyn momentarily unclasped herself from her first born to tend to the needs of her daughter. As she sat on the bed again Eomer snuggled close watching intently as his mother slid the shoulder of her nightgown down so that Eowyn could latch on to her full breast. He smiled at the sound of suckling, eyes never leaving his sisters face.

Papa had told him yesterday that he had had a little sister, his own Mama had died at her birth, she was six years old and he was ten summers older. And one day he had been hunting with his father Deor and when they returned home, his sister had been slain by orcs. Eomer had gasped at this news, noticing the sadness on his Papa’s face as he told him, not missing the tears that formed in his dark eyes as he remembered his loss all those years past.

His Papa told him how dangerous orcs were, that they were the enemy of Rohan and a threat to everyone living there, especially children. Wise children never left their homes without an adult present….just in case. Eomer’s eyes had widenend at this news, remembering the events of the previous day and feeling a little shamed at what he had done.

*******************************

What Eomund had not told his young son was that the body of his young sister had never been found, though he and his father had searched and searched for many long hours. His own father had never recovered from the shock of this loss, and was never the same man after that day. Eomund had tended him and looked to the family home, though but a young man himself. He had hated orcs with an intensity ever since that fateful day and had sworn vengeance on any who had crossed his path, and had slain countless without mercy.

************************************

Eomer could not play outside that long day, the sky was grey and rain clouds hovered over all, drenching the land with their showers. He happily played in his mothers’ chambers, toy horses and wooden building blocks scattered about the floor, whilst Theodwyn was about her duties in the halls, attending to the needs of the people whilst her Lord was absent.

Eowyn woke from her nap and started to flail her arms and cluck gently. Eomer stopped to listen and stood up to walk to the cradle, looking down upon his little sister. She cooed at him and smiled gummily at the shadow of a face over her. Eomer smiled back and reached a hand to gently tickle her, ‘no orc would get HIS sister’ he thought, “I will look after you Eowyn,” he whispered, “Papa and I will kill every orc in Rohan”! And he showed her his sword to prove this.

Thodwyn watched from the doorway, smiling at the intervention from brother to sister, a tear slowly rolling down her face in her joy at the sight.

A sibling bond had been formed, albeit slowly, but Theodwyn was under no illusions that there would still be much mischief between her two babes as they grew, that much was certain, but at this moment in time her heart ached with the love she saw before her.

The End.

A/N. This ends the first part of the childhood of Eomer. Be prepared for a sequel that will jump four years in time. Thank you to all who have reviewed, I do appreciate it