Ch. 1 -- The King's Concern

October 3007 TA - Edoras

Deordred sat, cap in hand, waiting to show Théoden King his latest modifications to spear and shield for the Eoreds.  Some might think it odd that the King should be so involved in the intricacies of armoury but Deordred found that he had a genuine interest in the skills of the armoury, of hammer and tongs and the suggestions that he made for improvements were sound ideas that Deordred had incorporated into many new pieces.  That was not why he was somewhat anxious about his meeting with the king.  He was anxious about his niece.  Éowyn had taken to coming by the armoury and spending much time.  It is not that he minded necessarily.  Éowyn was a bright, inquisitive young thing genuinely interested in his craft. Odd for a young girl of the court, but he was very impressed by her earnest interest.  It was just that the armoury could be a dirty and sometimes unsafe place for a young girl and he wanted guidance from his king on how to proceed with Éowyn’s visits.  He did not want to discourage her. In fact he found it quite refreshing that a girl of the court had interests outside of ribbons, trinkets and gossip which was his impression of young girls from what little he saw of court life.  He was a little wary about broaching the subject of the King’s niece however.  All knew how protective he was of the young girl.  Slights, even perceived slights, were not borne well by the King as he doted on Éowyn.

Deorgar, the King’s First Councillor, entered the antechamber where Deordred was sitting.  “My lord will see you now.”

The Master Armourer nodded his acknowledgment and gathered up his equipment and his courage to enter into Théoden’s private office as this was not an “audience” but merely a consulting of craft. 

Théoden was at his desk and at footsteps and the slight bit of clanking, “Deordred!,” Théoden exclaimed before looking up.  Standing he rubbed his hand excitedly, “And what do we have today!”

“A few ideas that have taken shape, My lord.  Some with your suggestions in mind.”  He started to lay out the few pieces he had brought.  “But first I wish to speak to you of your niece.”  Théoden paused in his perusal of the table’s wares and looked at Deordred, suddenly serious and a look of expectation on his face.  Good or bad expectation Deordred could not tell but he pressed forward knowing that Théoden always expected directness in one’s speech.  “Over the last few weeks she has been coming by the armoury, to look and to understand what is it that we do.”

“Has she been disrupting proceedings?” Théoden asked pointedly.

“No, my lord!” Deordred answered quickly, “She is bright and inquisitive.  Clearly wanting to learn and understand what we do.”

“And the problem is?” Théoden asked in a leading way.

“The problem is, my Lord, well.  Forges and fires and anvils do not always make for a safe place for young girls and I wanted you to know so if you have a worry with her presence there...  Did you want to guide her visits to make sure she is safe,” he suggested.

Théoden mused, clearly relieved that Éowyn was not in anyone’s way.  He did not want hinder her curiosity but he also wanted to know what she was doing.  He wanted no tongues wagging possibly hurting his young niece's feelings.  Given everything he was therefore deeply grateful to Deordred that he brought this to his attention.  “Thank you for telling me of this.” He continued, “I cannot watch over her to such a degree as to impede her curiosity.  A directed project that she could work on while under your direct supervision I think would be good.  It would add to your workload I’m afraid but I would not want just anyone protecting and guiding her.  Would that be acceptable to you, Master Deordred?”

“Oh Aye! My Lord!”  And though it would mean more work it would still be a joy, “It would be my honour.  My lady is such a quick study and eager to learn!”

Théoden bit back a smile, “Yes, well. I doubt her cookery or needlework teachers would agree with that statement.” He thought of the example of his niece’s most recent needlework;  it was not for public viewing.  Deordred looked somewhat confused by the statement that bore no semblance to the bright interested young girl who frequented the armoury.  Théoden put a hand on Deordred’s shoulder. “Yes, well..." Théoden mused then silently decided to change track mid-sentence, "I shall consult with the Prince and Lord Éomer as well to see what kind of project would be right for Éowyn.  I shall have an answer for you possibly by tomorrow evening.”

“As you wish, My Lord.”

“And Master Deordred,”  The armourer looked into the King’s eyes. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.  It means a great deal to me that you took this time and have this care for my niece.”

“Always! My lord.  She is a dear thing!”  They returned to the perusal of armoury pieces, enjoyable entertained for the next hour.

~*~*~*~*~  

It was decided that Éowyn would learn about and take part in the making of a sword.  It was to be her own sword but she was not to know that until Solstice night.  One night at supper not long after Deordred’s meeting Théoden mentioned in passing how Master Deordred had visited him.  Immediately Éowyn went quiet and tried to disappear into the background.  Both Théodred and Éomer noticed their voluble little one was discernibly quiet all of a sudden.  Théodred looked at his father and noticed the king had a twinkle in his eye as he was glancing frequently at Éowyn as he buttered a roll in his hand. “Do you know what he had to say?”

Théodred was looking at his little cousin as she was trying to slip into the patterned rug sitting under the supper table. A smile in his voice he said, “No,” he said drawing out the word a little longer than was strictly necessary, “But I am sure you are about to tell us.” 

“Right you are, my son!”

“Tell us what, uncle?  What is going on?” stated Éomer directly, sixteen year old boys not being known for their subtlety, but then light dawned on the conversation he and Théodred had had with their uncle the night before and promptly fell silent; a smile on his face.

Théoden hid the growing smile.  “He said that a certain little girl with light reddish blond hair and freckles across her nose had been visiting the armoury.  And curiously at a time when I know she had cookery with Thilda…”

“Oh all right!  I happen to stop by the armoury once or twice on my way to the kitchens!”

“Never mind the fact they are in opposite directions,” Théoden said under his breath. He was having too much fun goading Éowyn especially considering the news he was about to impart.

“Cookery is so stupid!” Éowyn said vehemently.

“Language, Éowyn!’

“Sorry, uncle.” she said perfunctorily,

“Do you like the armoury?” Théoden said more gently.

“Oh! Aye! It is so full noises and interesting smells.  All the metal clinking.  It is exciting!” 

“Would you like to spend more time there in the future.”

“Oh aye, Uncle!”  

“Well then it is settled!  You shall report to Deordred in the morning tomorrow for lessons on how to build a sword!”  The look of rapt joy on his beloved niece warmed his old heart.  He held up his hand to stay the oncoming hug and continued with as serious a face as he could manage, “However there is a downside to this arrangement.”  Éowyn’s face held a look of forestayed joy as she awaited pronouncement.  “You will have to give up one cookery lesson and one needlework lesson each week I’m afraid.  Those are the only times Master Deordred could fit in.” 

Éowyn emitted a squeal of joy, “Thank you!” as she hugged her big bear of an uncle.

Théodred looked at his father, a twinkle in his eyes, replied dryly, “Interesting that those were Master Deordred’s only hours to work.  He is usually most accommodating, especially for his king.”

Théoden returned the smile, “Aye, Interesting isn’t it.” And hugged Éowyn a little tighter.  Perhaps he was spoiling her a little but hugs like this being the result it was hard not to.  She was such a bright, spirited little one.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day Éowyn was at the armoury well before her appointed time. Deordred laughed when he re-entered the workroom having gone to retrieve a particular tool needed for a job he was working and saw her, sitting on her stool by his work bench. “Eager are we!”

Éowyn nodded with energy. Deordred chuckled and said , “Well, let’s get to it!”  Éowyn hopped off her stool with such fervor that she almost upended the stool.  Deordred leveled a look at her, “First lesson, my lady.  Exciting as the armoury is, we must always be careful about how we move about.  There is hot metal and sharp edges everywhere so cautious and careful movements are what will keep us safe.  Can you do that for me?”

Éowyn nodded, “Yes, Master Deordred.  I can do that!”  She replied with earnest and bright eyes.

“Good Girl!” Deordred answered back, now smiling. “Now. To fun!” he walked to the supply area where the metals were kept.  Éowyn trailing in his wake trying hard to be very conscious of her surroundings. 

They entered into a room filled with all manner of ingots, mostly iron and steel but she could even see some copper and a few ingots of gold nearer to her hand.  She reached up and touched the gold ingot on a lower shelf near.  She smiled at Deordred.  “Gold is beautiful, but you’ll not be wanting that for a sword!”

“Why not?” queried Éowyn.

“Because my lady.  It is a very soft metal.  It would neither land or take a blow very well.”

“Oh…” Éowyn mouthed, her eyes shining with new discovery.  

“Here is what we are after,”  Deordred grabbed a few ingots of a dark silver color. “A fine quality steel.  It will make a fine sword.”

After that first hour or so the time spent with Master Deordred soon took their place among her favourite times of the week.  There were certain things that it was too dangerous for an inexperienced apprentice to be allowed to do, such as work the forge or pouring the molten steel into the blade mold or the hammering of the blade so on those days Éowyn made do with watching, enrapt with the process.

“There now! The initial bevel for the blade is defined.” Deordred said as the blade cooled on the workblock.  “Next will be the cleaning and sanding and that will be your job.”  Éowyn sat up straight and clambered off the stool, ready.  The Master Armourer held his hand up, “Tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow!” Éowyn exclaimed disconsolately. 

“Aye my lady! Tomorrow!  Your cousin awaits your company at the door!”  Deordred motioned in Théodred’s direction.  The King’s son stepped forth.  He bent a head in greeting. “Master Deordred!”  

Deordred placed a fist on his heart, “My Lord.”  and bent a greeting.

“How goes the lesson?” he asked the Master Armourer. 

Éowyn chimed in excitedly,  “I’m going to sand tomorrow!”

“Well,” Théodred said smiling at Éowyn, tousling her plaited hair and placing a loud kiss on the top of her forehead.  “I do not think,” he said, looking at Deordred, “that you will find a more enthusiastic or ardent sander than you will have tomorrow,  Master Deordred.”

The master replied, “No, my lord.  I don’t think I shall!”

Théodred held out his arm to his young cousin, “Shall we away?”

Éowyn jumped off her stool and grandly took her cousin’s arm. “Aye, we shall.”  She dropped a small curtsy to Deordred.  

“Off we go, little cousin!” Théodred said and as they stepped out of the armoury and in a low voice he continued, “To bash each other with swords!”

Deordred stared after them and heard a giggle as they left the room.  He shook his head and smiled, the family of the king were always to his mind just like others no side, no airs, unlike some of the others of the Quality he dealt with over the years.  A few came to mind but he pushed those thoughts away as he picked up Éowyn’s sword and carefully set it aside for the next day’s sanding.  He reflected upon the prince’s words. He laughed to himself.  He would indeed never find a more enthusiastic sander than he would encounter the next day he thought as he brought forward an armorform wearing a mailshirt that he was repairing for Lord Elfhelm.  “Freca!” A young red-haired apprentice polishing a piece of armour looked up, “Come here!  Let’s continue with how to repair a damaged ring in the shoulder of a mail shirt.”  Freca bounced up and trotted over.  Deordred smiled inwardly at the exuberance of youth.

The next morning King Théoden wedged a little time in between meetings to visit the armoury.  And it just so happened to coincide with Éowyn’s lesson with Master Deordred.  As he entered the armoury those present made a move to rise at the king’s presence to which he quickly made motion with his hand to stay the obeisance.  He stood just inside leaning on the doorframe.  It gave him a clear view of Deordred’s workbench.  A light red-haired head bent over a sword sanding for all she was worth.  Black soot formed a circle around her and he shared an amused look with Deordred.  Having gazed upon this sight of enthusiastic industry for a few very amusing moments, he declared, “Well now, Deordred.  I have come to see the progress being made.”

Éowyn looked up at her uncle’s voice, clearly excited at his sudden presence.  She cleared a stray lock of hair from her forehead to behind her ear, streaking an already begrimed face, but her eyes were aglow.  Théoden thought she never looked more beautiful. “Uncle!  Come and see what I have done!”  

Théoden pushed his shoulder off the doorframe and strode into the room proper straight to Deordred’s workbench.  “Let us see!”  He would have proclaimed any work she did to be of the utmost quality, but this actually was.  

“I did help with a little of the pounding of the edges. Um– I wasn’t supposed to say that!  Sorry, Master Deordred,” she finished sheepishly.

It was Deordred’s turn to look a little wary but Théoden assuaged his master armourer trepidations, looking at Deordred pointedly.  “I trust Master Deordred’s judgment in this.”  He held the blade by the tang and the flat of the blade itself, inspecting it thoroughly.  Éowyn held her breath, hoping her uncle was pleased.  “Very nicely done!  I have never seen better or more through sanding!”

Éowyn positively glowed with her uncle’s praise, “Thank you, uncle!” She kissed him on the cheek and then hugged him, promptly depositing stray bits of black soot upon his green brocade tunic.

“Aye, well.  You had better be finishing the job!”  he proclaimed.

Éowyn hopped back on the bench and received the blade from her uncle to begin again in earnest.

Théoden watched her work for a bit more.  It helped his heart to see her working so happily.  Her training, which had given her such happiness and purpose, was problematic at best.  Ladies of the court did not train to be shieldmaidens, which was Éowyn’s dream.  A shadow crossed his face when he remembered her reason for wanting to train.

~*~*~*~

Two years prior…

Théoden stood just outside the door to his son’s bedchambers.  He was about to walk in when a snippet caught his ear and he wanted to see where it would go before he interrupted.

“Poor Guthhild, she is going to begin to think that you don’t like her,” Théodred tried to argue.

“Well I don’t…”  Éowyn relented a little, “At least not when she is trying to make me learn to sew, or do needlework.  Shieldmaidens don’t need to know that stuff!”

Théodred countered, “Yes they do. And besides.” Here he tried to soften the blow, “Éowyn. Only village women can train to be Shieldmaidens.  It is not for Noble born ladies.”

Éowyn jumped off his lap and shouted, “Why does everyone keep telling me that!” she had her hands fisted up into little balls at her sides.  “If I had been one maybe I could have ridden at papa’s side and saved him!  Why does nobody think that?”  She ran off in tears down the hallway past where Théoden stood out of the way.  Most likely she ran to the stables and to Gamhelm.  Théoden knew that Gamhelm would know how to sooth her tears.  He was a favourite of Éowyn.  Théoden trusted him implicitly.  And right now he had another matter to tend to.

He moved to the entrance and could see Éomer and Théodred just looking at each other.  Both were taken aback by the fervency of her words and the reasoning behind it.

“And that is why I wished to speak with you both,” both cousins looked at the door and there standing in the doorway was King Théoden.

~*~*~*~

Théoden shook himself from the unpleasant reverie and took his leave of the armoury.  He mouthed “Thank you” to Deordred, motioning to Éowyn happily sanding oblivious to the conversation.  The master armourer bowed fist on heart. Théoden left with a last look at Éowyn working away happily.  There would be a reckoning at some point he knew in his heart but for the current moment Éowyn was happy and all was right in his world.

Chapter 2

December 3007 TA - Edoras

The Solstice was coming and in Rohan that meant celebration and feasting; the coming of the light and the remembrance of what had passed during the year. Of solemnity and of joy. Of particular joy in Edoras was the Passing On of the youth Eored.  It was thought fitting that the new year was the time for the youth eored to enter into the next stage of their training.  New swords were forged and given as a symbol that they were ready to take on a growing responsibility and dedication in their training.  The boys’ mothers or oldest female relative were to weave a special mantle for the occasion using family colors together with the green and white of the Mark symbolizing the family joining the larger family of the Eored.  It sometimes made for garish color combinations but it was all part of the celebrations.

Éowyn was nearing this same threshold and this was a concern for Théoden.   She of course could not take part in the ritual and celebrations because it was unknown that she was undergoing training but Théoden wanted to acknowledge her journey if only within the family.  To that point Théoden had called together the only other three that knew about her training.

He looked at those assembled, playing page and handed around goblets of fine Rhovanian vintage owing to the fact that not even his page was allowed entrance into this meeting.  It was a small group because the fewer who knew, the more protected Éowyn would be to pursue her dreams.  The fact that the dream was merely a mirage was not something Théoden chose to think about.  He looked at the three people present.  Those who loved Éowyn best.  Éomer, Théodred  and her beloved stablemaster Gamhelm.  Even Deordred was not included though Éowyn had been growing closer to him as she spent more time in the armoury.

Théoden settled into his own chair, padded on the arms and seat with a durable green velvet, and leveled a look at the three other members of this select group.  “What do we think?  In an honest assessment of her skills would Éowyn be ready to join the other twelve year olds in this next step to becoming part of an Eored?”

Théodred  spoke first, “If she were a boy then, aye!  She would.  Her sword play is progressing well.  She is very dedicated to perfecting her abilities.”

Éomer spoke next, “I think she is starting to understand the work needed to become an instinctive archer.  She knows that she needs to put in the time to become a truly fine one.  She isn’t there yet!” He chuckled, “I’m not there yet, but she at least understands the path.  Not all the boys training in the youth Eored understand that.”

Gamhelm spoke up, “She has the heart and the horse sense and the dedication needed to become a shieldmaiden.  So aye, she is ready.  But my lord…we are all avoiding the Oliphant in the room.  She can never be what she is dreaming of and working towards.”  He fell silent.

Théoden’s shoulders dropped and he drained his goblet and set it down; the slight sound echoed in the too silent room.  He stared at the floor examining a knot in the plank nearest him and fought to quell a flare of anger.  Gamhelm spoke only the truth and he spoke out of care and affection for Éowyn.  “Gamhelm my friend,” He began in a hesitant voice, “You speak the truth that we all know.”  He looked at his son and his nephew.  Théodred  looked back expectantly, sorrow in his eyes and Éomer, his dear nephew, looked as if he was wanting to say something but was holding back out of respect for his uncle.  “Éomer, speak your thoughts.”

Éomer looked dolefully at his uncle trying to choose his words carefully. “I know I was at first against this plan and part of me still is crying that this is all a lie.  But another part of me sees my sister happy and smiling and taking joy in life.  Instead of trying to tear Saelith’s hair out.”  Saelith was a girl of the court who had far too biting of a tongue and used it on Éowyn at times.  “I am torn.  She is very good and has many skills that can be made to grow further.  I just don’t know!” Éomer ended with a storm of emotion behind earnest blue eyes.

“You reflect my thoughts, nephew.” Théoden voiced softly.  “There are no easy answers.  It thrills my heart to see Éowyn’s eyes light with joy over a new accomplishment or bent over her sword sanding.  She is who she wants to be.  But Aye, I do fear in my heart that moment of reckoning that will destroy her dreams.  When it all comes crashing down.”  He gave a heartfelt sigh, weary of the world in that particular moment. He fervently admitted , “But Bema, curse me. I cannot strip the happiness that is currently in her heart.”  He looked at the other three in the room.  They looked back and Théoden could see his emotions reflected in their eyes. He said through a chagrined smile, “Bema be merciful to all when my lively, spirited niece learns the truth.  And do let it be long and not short, granting happiness as he may.” He paused, and then voiced decisively, “We will proceed with the family ceremony.”

~*~*~*~*~

Éowyn sat near the stables sitting on a bale of hay ostensibly waiting for Gamhelm to return from an unknown errand.  She had pulled a muscle in swordplay with Éomer the previous day in their secret training glade nestled amid the shouldering mountains.  It still pained her this morning and she needed some liniment for it.  Gamhelm always helped her with her training aches and pain because she could not go to Leoulf, the king’s healer with this sort of injury or questions would be raised.  Her uncle had been very clear on the secrecy of her training, so she confided in Gamhelm who could be trusted implicitly.

As she waited a light snow had started.  Glad that there was no one around to advise that she should go inside she took this moment to revel in newly fallen snow.  She turned her face to the sky and tried tasting as many snowflakes as possible, smiling each time a snowflake gently dissolved on her tongue.

“As much as I delight in the look of joy on your face, my lady.  You should come inside, it is starting to snow with more fervor,  Liniment I presume?” said the gruff but affectionate voice belonging to Gamhelm who despite being big and burly managed to move quite silently.  It was truly a skill that she had yet to master and she was a mere fraction of his size.

Éowyn opened her eyes and looked at Gamhelm, joy still evident on her face. “Yes, Gamhelm if you could!” She stated, jumping off the hay bale to fall in step with the stablemaster and to sit on another convenient hay bale within, awaiting the cool liniment for her shoulder.  “Where were you?

Gamhelm had been summoned by Théoden King to come and speak of Éowyn’s training held within his private chambers, but the stablemaster was sworn to not reveal this meeting to Éowyn.  By way of explanation he held up his wicker basket; it was at least a partial truth.  “I forgot my lunch basket and I did not want Gamwyn striding up the hill as her leg has been feeling poorly again with the onset of the cold weather!”

Éowyn nodded, completely accepting the half truth, “Is Gamwyn feeling poorly?” She inquired.  “I shall have Leoulf pay her a visit; maybe one of his salves can help her.” She offered, in concern in her young voice.

Gamhelm looked at her kindly, and hugged her with his basket unencumbered arm.  Leaning to kiss her on the top of her head, he then smiled and stated, “That is very kind of you, my lady!  I am sure that Gamwyn would greatly appreciate it!  Now let’s get that liniment on ya!”  He did not like keeping secrets from the little lass, but the plan for her Passing On ceremony had been decided and her solstice gifts had been discussed and it would not do to have her asking questions.  Just at that moment his eye fell upon the longbow that he was carving for Éowyn for the Solstice laying only partially covering near his workbench.  He had been working on it when the young rider had appeared at the stables with his summons.  He had been in such a rush he apparently did not fully conceal it.  A slight panic flared within Gamhelm.  Having applied the last of a measured dollop of liniment to Éowyn’s shoulder, he rubbed it in and wrapped a bandage soaked in a light poultice of ground ginger and thyme, “Now that might be a bit uncomfortable but leave that bandage on for the rest of the day.  The warmth created by the herbs will speed the healing.”  He wiped his hands on the cloth at his waist in haste. “Right then, off you get.  Cookery time is it not.”

Éowyn sulked just a little.  “Aye, but I was hoping that you didn’t remember!” 

Gamhelm laughed, “In every life, a little rain must fall, Lytling!” using the endearment that could be allowed only when no one was within earshot.  He waited for her footfalls in the snow, headed back to Golden Hall and then scurried over to the worktable where he had, too casually, laid her bow. He had taken the measure of the bow strength needed when he had asked Éowyn to test some bows he had made.  He said he needed to record the poundage of each bow.  Really he had been seeing what she could pull to a certain comfort and where there was room to grow.  He had been rather amazed at how well his little subterfuge had worked especially as he was generally a straightforward direct sort.  Stablemasters needed to know when and what counsel to keep but that was as far a distance in politicking as he was willing to go.

~*~*~*~*~

Fresh from her latest cooking disaster where she had been accused of adding ginger and thyme into a raspberry pie strictly against Thilda’s instructions. Éowyn did not realise until the end of the lesson what the ill-tempered cook was on about.  It was then she realised that Thilda must have been smelling the ginger and thyme from the poultice.  Sighing, Éowyn decided to pay a visit to the armoury, her second favourite place just after the stables.  It would cheer her up.  The sword she had been working on was nearing completion and she just wanted to visit it.  She entered the armoury and the sounds of hammer against metal filled her heart with happiness.  Deordred sat at his workbench with Freca and the new apprentice that she had yet to meet.  He was holding up an intricate weave for chainmail.  “This,” Deordred stated, “is called Easterling 4 in 1 weave.  Well, that’s I call it.  I have no idea what Easterlings called it. It was retrieved from  a long ago battle and its secrets were discovered long ago and the weave pattern has been passed on from Master Armourer to Master Armouer.  It is a good solid weave which can used as a rope and as a full sheet to make a shirt.”  

Éowyn was fascinated.  “Can I join?”

Deordred looked up, “My lady! Of course you can, there is enough room.”  He turned to gather more links for her to work upon.

Éowyn looked at Freca, “Do you mind?”

Freca, a boy with flaming red hair and freckles just about everywhere, with whom she had been forging a fast friendship owing to their age and proximity smiled, “And if I did?”

Éowyn countered teasingly, “I would do it anyway!”

“Just as her ladyship pleases. I guess!” Freca said, humorous teasing in his voice.

Éowyn wrinkled her nose,  “Oh, move over!”

“Aye, my lady!” Freca sang out in mock deference.

“Is she really a “My lady?” said the flaxen haired boy next to Freca, a little overawed never having met anyone of the Quality.  

Freca stated, “Not just ‘My Lady’ but she is the King’s niece!  But in here, she’s just one of us!”

Éowyn was a little stunned to hear Freca’s description of her.  She felt a rush of acceptance by Freca’s casual opinion.  It felt like home.  Deordred saw the emotions fall upon her face and smiled behind his beard.  Théoden would be most pleased.  They had often talked about Éowyn in their meetings together; the King always wanting to know how Éowyn was getting on and so happy to hear she was doing well.  His eyes twinkled, incongruously with his usually stern countenance, “Now my,” he emphasized the next word, “three apprentices, take one link and open it…”

During an extremely enjoyable hour of chain mailing, Éowyn had found out from the new boy, whose name was Folcred, that he was from the area near Aldburg. “Aldburg!  I’m from Aldburg!  Me and my brother, Éomer!”  She paused, “Do you miss it?”

“Aye,” Folcred said, “I miss Papa and Mama. And there was this little stream that led to a mountain that I used to catch frogs in!”

“I know that mountain!  My brother and I once got lost in that mountain looking for gold.  It was scary!” she confided. “And my brother has no sense of direction!” Éowyn shook her head in remembrance. 

Deordred marveled at the scene.  He had not been able to get more than three words together out of Folcred since his arrival two weeks prior and now he was happily chatting with Éowyn.  Young as she was she had a way of putting people at their ease around her.  He could not wait to tell his king about this day. 

~*~*~*~*~

NOTES:  Éomer mentions Saelith, A girl of the court. Saelith is introduced in the first chapter of Destiny's Child, another fan fic posted in here.

* The chainmail weave mentioned in the Armoury scene Easterling 4 in1.  It is an actual weave in reality called Persian 4 in 1.  As Persia does not actually exist yet I changed it to Easterling 4 jn 1, figuring that they are also a country to the East! :-)

*  Éowyn talks about her and Éomer getting lost in the chainmail scene. That is actually a scene I write about in Chapter 2, Leaving Home; Coming Home also another fanfic on this site! :-D

Ch. 3

Winter Solstice 3007 TA - Edoras

The Great Hall was alight with candles made specially for the Solstice.  The scent of fir trees wafted about the hall and green boughs from trees in the shouldering mountains were cut and brought in not only Meduseld but all homes in Edoras.  It was the day that chased away the darkness of winter holding forth the hope of spring and new life.  

It was the tradition in Edoras for the King and his family to give not only the boughs from the trees in the shouldering mountains, but specially made candles, a barley loaf baked with special Solstice spices and herbs, a packet of mulling spices and a log for each hearth in Edoras to be burnt on Solstice night. Throughout Rohan similar traditions were held to celebrate the coming of the light in the new year, the local nobility giving to their people.  The candle was used to re-light the hearth and then kept lit in each house all night to welcome in the dawn.

Éowyn sat with her family in the private main chamber in Meduseld wrapping some of the parcels to be given out and remembering much the same celebration in Aldburg.  She always remembered the look on Papa and Mama’s faces giving to the people of the town and surrounding farms.  They always looked so joyous.  She had helped make the candles and tie the green ribbon around the parcels to give to their people.  It was her favorite time of the year.  Warm and cozy with Mama, drinking a little of Papa’s mulled sweet wine, teasing Éomer about how her bows were better than his.

“What are you thinking, lytling!”  Uncle Théoden asked as he broke her reverie wondering at the thoughtful look on his niece’s face.

Éowyn spoke without thinking, “Mama and Papa and us sitting at home in Aldburg preparing bundles.  I miss them.” She rarely spoke of her parents because it still hurt to think of them even after the years had passed.  She realised what she had just said and quickly added, “But I love you, Uncle and you too, Théodred.  She looked from her uncle to her beloved cousin whose eyes were unusually bright.  She felt her uncle’s hand on hers and looked at it.  A finger lifted her chin and she looked into her uncle’s blue eyes bright with unshed tears.

“I know you do, lytling.  And so do I.”  He thought of his dear sister, Théodwyn and Éomund whom he had held as a brother, gone way before their time. He kissed her forehead, “It is good to remember and this time of year is especially good to remember the love we have been lucky enough to have had in our lives.”  He stood, “Éomer,” who was seated on the other side of Théoden, “Stand up and come here.”  Éomer stood trying to hide his tears welling.  One on each arm, Théoden hugged them both.  “Every day I thank Bema you came to me.  Éomer you have grown so strong and so good.  You make me so proud.  I have two sons. Théodred,” He reached out a hand to his son who quickly grasped it, “And you Éomer, you grow more like your father each day!  And then there is you, Éowyn, my daughter who I could not love more!  I am a very fortunate man!”  He kissed Éowyn on the top of her head and Éomer on his forehead.  Once again he grasped his son’s hand.  "Solstice blessings on all three of you!” He looked in the eyes of the three he loved best in this world savouring the moment. He then laughed a bit, “Well I suppose we should get back to the job at hand.  Shall we?” All nodded and then bent their heads to the task of wrapping and tying. Théoden looked across the table again thinking again how fortune had blessed him.  He smiled and bent to wrapping again.

The Solstice Gifting being one of Éowyn’s favourite parts of Solstice in either Aldburg or in Edoras she was as bright as the sun, helping to hand out the parcels of candle, loaf, bough and log with a few sweets for the little ones, all brightly wrapped and then given on the morning of Solstice Eve.  She got to see the smiles on the children’s faces and the grateful looks of the less fortunate when they saw there was a little extra unobtrusively added into their parcels to help them through hard times.  Later on in the evening they would gather near the stream that ran through Edoras and a bonfire was lit on the green.  Songs were sung and stories were told and Théoden would say a few words giving thanks for the blessings of the year and hope for the future year.  Then each household would light their special Solstice candle and return home to relight the hearth and place the solstice candle on the mantle above the hearth and where it would burn all night.

After people took their leave of the bonfire going back to their houses with their gifted hearthfire bundles, Théoden touched Gamhelm’s arm. “It is time!”  The stablemaster and his wife nodded and lit their candle and moved towards the residence.  Théoden caught his son’s eye.  Théodred nodded with a smile and went to gather Éomer and Éowyn who was still gazing into the bonfire, transfixed.  She loved to watch the flames jump and crackle.  She focussed on the flame and all else faded into the background.  Éomer touched her arm and she genuinely jumped.  

“Miles away again, my sister?”  Éomer teased lightly. 

“Aye!  What is it?” she said  vaguely annoyed that her fire gazing was interrupted.

“We are going inside.  There is something that needs doing.”  Éomer ended enigmatically. “Come along.”

Éowyn followed her brother with a question growing in her mind.  She entered the family’s private chambers and what she saw amazed her.  Gathered were her uncle, her cousin, Gamhelm and Gamwyn.  They were standing around a candelabra that had at its base a large squat lit candle.  Behind it were four stems that twisted around each other to form a tree trunk each branch reaching just above the large candle and each branch positioned around the main candle to form a backdrop of candles. It was the Passing On candelabra used in the ceremony for those chosen to advance along the path to become part of an Eored.  “What is this?” She looked at her uncle.  

He returned a look of happiness and pride.  “Éowyn, come forth.  Step inside the circle of your family.”  Éowyn choked up at the words.  They were the formal words that began the Passing On ceremony.  She stepped up and looked into the loving eyes of brother, cousin and  friends.  With a pounding heart and misty eyes she looked at her uncle, who seemed equally misty-eyed.  “My dearest sister-daughter,” He started in a choked voice, pausing and then continuing in a stronger voice, “This could not be done tomorrow with the rest of the youth Eored for reasons we all understand, but I could not allow this moment to go unmarked.  Let us begin.” He next intoned, “Who stands ready to testify that Éowyn, Daughter of Theodwyn should progress on her journey to serve the Mark.”

Éomer stood forth, “I stand forth to proclaim her growing prowess with the bow and vow to help her in her journey to serve the Mark!” He took a candle from a golden tray that sat next to the candelabra and lit it from the larger candle and placed it in one of the candelabra’s surrounding arms.  His eyes shining he turned behind him and then presented her with a bow.  He placed a brotherly kiss on the top of her head.  “Now you have your own bow! No excuses!” He whispered teasingly.  She looked at the bow, it was a beautiful piece of work.  Delicate scroll work along the limbs and a gently engraved script “E” just above the handhold.  She had seen this bow in the stables.  She had looked at it and thought whoever it was being made for was going to be so lucky.  She looked at Gamhelm and he gave a little nod. And then he stepped forward with a cough that sounded suspiciously like a sob. 

“I stand forth to testify to her growing prowess as a Rider and vow to help her in her journey to serve the Mark!” He took a candle and lit it from the larger candle and placed it in another of the candelabra’s arms.

Théodred then stepped forward, “I stand forth to proclaim her growing prowess with the sword and vow to help her in her journey to serve the Mark!” He took a candle and lit it from the larger candle repeating the same motion as the first two.  He turned and retrieved a sword and scabbard. “Unsheath the blade and place your hands at guard and hilt.  Swordpoint at the floor.”  He smiled as he presented the sword on both hands to his cousin. 

Éowyn grasped the sword and a thrill of recognition seared through as she touched the handle.  She unsheathed the blade and almost cried as she realised which blade she had pulled from the scabbard.  It was her blade, the one she had had a hand in designing and making.

“Put the blade point at the floor,”  Théoden said softly.  Éowyn looked at him with such happiness in her eyes that he almost burst into tears.  He saw her straighten her shoulder and try for at least a modicum of decorum.  A tear slipped down his cheek as he said, “You seek to continue your journey in service to the Mark?”

Éowyn cleared her throat and said strongly, “I do.  I accept the journey as it comes and will withstand all.  Learning and accepting there is still more to learn.”  She repeated the words that she had heard many times at the Passing On ceremony. 

“Rise my Sister-daughter.”  Théoden placed his hands on her at the cross of guard and hilt to help her up,  “Your path continues!”  Éowyn picked up the fourth candle and lit it from the larger candle and placed it in the last branch, symbolizing as it had been explained to her that she understood that training was a journey taken with others. With mentors and friends it was a journey taken together, a shared responsibility.  Just for a moment after having stepped back from lighting her candle to bow to Théoden as liege lord she thought she saw in her uncle’s eyes an emotion she could not discern, almost a sorrow or sadness.  She did not know which.  She looked down to adjust her skirt so as not to step on it and when she looked into his eyes again she saw nothing but pride and happiness.  She smiled back almost in reassurance.  

Gamwyn came forward, “Accept now this mantle!”  She looked at Éowyn imploringly, “I know I am not blood, but I feel that you are the daughter of my heart.  Théoden King asked if I would sew your mantle. I said that it would be an honour!”

“Oh! Gamwyn!  Thank you! Of course I will accept it!”  Gamwyn smiled and flushed with emotion as Théoden moved Éowyn’s hair away from her neck while the stablemaster’s wife placed the mantle made up the crimson and gold of Eomund’s family and the green and white of the Mark, a white horse rearing up at the joining of the colours of family and country.  Hugs all round and many congratulations.  Mugs were filled with the special mulled Solstice mead and family and friends retreated to the private balcony to view the coming of the dawn.

Théoden sat on the settee as a cold predawn breeze flowed through the family balcony. Gamwyn leaned against Gamhelm’s chest at the bannister, his arms around her.  Théodred and Éomer leaned on the railing sipping at more warm mead and quietly talking.  Théoden looked upon Éowyn, lightly dozing on his shoulder, in her newly bestowed mantle with her sword tucked under her arm but over the down blanket that covered her small form. In that moment of contentment an image of his niece flashed before his mind’s eye, Éowyn, seemingly older with her face begrimed held a sword and was slashing downward upon some unseen foe.  A battle swirled around her.  Within moments the vision was gone.  Somehow deep in his heart he knew he had just been gifted with the knowledge that this was the right path.  Pain and heartaches awaited; that could not be avoided but Bema be merciful, this path was right.  The dawn light reached across the sky.  Théoden gently nudged his niece awake, “Éowyn, Lytling!  Awake! The dawn has arrived!”  Éowyn opened her eyes and the new day’s light filled her vision.  The Solstice dawn had arrived and as always it betokened a future as yet unknown, the possibilities endless.