Late Spring 3019 TA  Edoras

Éomer walked to the stables to make sure that Windfleet had settled into his favorite stall.  Normally he would have rubbed down and curried his own horse but that had not been possible earlier without interrupting Gamhelm as he was comforting Éowyn.  He would not interrupt that for anything, even Windfleet.  He was here now to make amends with his horse.  Windfleet could be very high-strung, but with proper soothing he would forgive, forgetting, now that was a different story, Éomer thought ruefully.  He gathered up a bucket and removed Windfleet’s comb from a hook on the wall and placed it in the bucket.  He saw Gamhelm in the tack room, he almost moved in that direction, to greet his old friend, but he just really needed this time with his horse.  He moved off to Windfleet’s stall.

Inside the tack room Gamhelm smiled to himself.  He turned to confirm it and saw Éomer slip around the corner bucket in hand.  He turned back to the saddle he was working on.  He knew that Éomer could not stay away and that he could not leave Windfleet untended by him.  It was why earlier he interrupted Folca as he was removing Windfleet’ saddle to instruct him to give the horse a light tending only.  The boy had looked questioningly at him to which Gamhelm replied, “He will be back soon, trust in that.”  Folca had nodded his assent and departed to do his master’s bidding.  Gamhelm chewed his lip looking after his King.  He thought back to when he and his sister had come to Edoras.

~*~*~*~*~*~

3003 TA  Edoras

Gamhelm was mending a bit of tack when he heard a polite young voice, “This stable is really wonderful.  We have a nice stable in Aldburg but nothing like this.”

Gamhelm turned around and saw a twelve-year old boy standing there looking around.  “Thank you!”  He said kindly.

“I am sorry, I should introduce myself.  I am Éomer, son of Éomund, Théoden King’s sister-son.” he said.  He bowed his head, fist on heart.

Gamhelm hid a smile at the boy’s very formal introduction, sensing that he was trying to behave as he thought his father might in this moment.  Gamhelm’s heart instantly warmed to the boy; he had lost so much.  Both his parents at such an early age.  He nodded, fist on heart, “I am Gamhelm, Master of his King's horse.” 

“I know who you are.  My sister has spoken very highly of you.  I have been by, to tend my horse, Windsong, but I have somehow missed you.” 

Gamhelm looked harder at the boy, “So it is you that has been tending Windsong.  You tend a horse very well.”

The boy was visibly pleased by the compliment, “My father taught me.  He always said the bond between a Rider and his horse is a very special one.”  Gamhelm noticed the voice choked a bit and saw the boy gamely fight through the pain of memory.   “By tending your horse personally that bond becomes even stronger.” he recited.

“I knew your father.  He was a very good man!”  Gamhelm watched as the visage of a man dissolved and a lost little boy stood in his place.  Gamhelm approached the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled.  “Let us go and visit Windsong.  I am sure that he would love a turnip or two.”  The boy straightened his shoulders and sniffed a bit.

“I think he would, too!”

They visited Windsong, who of course, did not turn up his nose at even three turnips.  Gamhelm handed the curry brush to the boy as he set about to refresh the straw in the stall. Éomer had calmed by now and Gamhelm asked him about his home in Aldburg.  The boy at first was reticent but then he warmed to his tale.  Stories of mischief and mayhem, he and his sister. Family and fun.  Éomer paused as he started to put away the currying equipment.  “I miss father.”  He admitted.  Gamhelm leaned the rake against the back wall and gave Éomer his full attention.  “I am trying to be strong and be a man like him and to always protect my sister, as he asked me to.” He straightened his shoulders, “I will not fail him.” He declared, “But sometimes I just miss him.”  he ended in a smaller voice and looked at the older man tentatively.

Again, Gamhelm placed a strong hand on his shoulder, “I know that you will not.  I can see that within you.” Éomer stared at him, an earnest vulnerable stare, not only seeking trust but hoping for it.  “But also missing him does not make you weak.  It reminds you that you have a heart.  And that is a very good thing to remember.”   Gamhelm got the feeling that, even though he had just met the boy, this was an unusual occurrence.  Éomer smiled and something in his eyes softened and Gamhelm saw the slight wariness that had been resident in young eyes replaced with warmth.  It became a habit for the young boy and the stablemaster to tend to his horse together and they would talk about many things.  Éomer often confided in the old stablemaster and Gamhelm never lied to him even when it might have been easier to do so.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Gamhelm looked at the corner Éomer had just gone around.  He thought of that lost little boy and the man he had become.  His heart hurt for all that Éomer had endured in his young life.  He shook his head and could just hear his Gamwen saying he had a heart as big as the vast winter wheatfields of Rohan.  He did not know about that but there had been definitely enough room for two spirited young children who had endured so much and had grown up so well.  He would always be there for them; this he knew in his heart.

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“There you are my boy.”  Windfleet snorted just a little.  “I am here, not to worry,” Éomer said in a cooing voice as he reached inside the treat box near the front of the stall and rooted out both turnip and carrot.  Windfleet nickered as he nudged Éomer’s head and snuffled, “Hello, my lad.” as he stroked the mane.  He looked into the big brown eyes of his horse; He could see the question in those eyes.  “Sorry I could not tend you earlier, but Éowyn was upset and needed time.  You know how phillies can be sometimes,” he said in a commiserating voice.  Windfleet snorted and bobbed his head up and down. “Can you forgive me?”  Éomer was almost undone by the forgiving look in Windfleet’s eyes.

He placed the bucket on the ground and held the turnip to Windfleet’s mouth.  The horse munched most enthusiastically.  Éomer patted his mane as he laughed at Windfleet’s delighted chewing, then opened the gate and picked up the bucket.  He closed the gate and started to curry the beautiful chestnut coat.  The stable boy had done only a light grooming.  As he was trained by Gamhelm; that was a surprise but Éomer paused, thinking and then murmured to himself, “He knew I would be back to share this time with you, didn’t he, my lad?”  His eyes teared up thinking of his old friend.  “You know me so well.” he whispered to himself.  Gratitude and affection warmed his heart.  Windfleet snuffled a bit, breaking his reverie.  “What’s that?  What?  Oh, the carrot?” he said referencing the treat he had placed in his apron pocket.  “You want this?” He said to Windfleet in a teasing voice. “There you are my lad, you deserve it, my beautiful one.”  He stroked the dark mane, “You and I.  We’ve been through it haven’t we, lad.” as he continued to run the brush over his coat.  Windfleet nickered and Éomer could feel his horse’s muscles relaxing as he brushed and combed; the action having an almost meditative effect on him as well.

“Windfleet,” he said as he moved the brush in semi-circles along the chestnut coat, having started at the shoulders and working down and across the beautiful coat. “I can only thank you for these last weeks, for what we have achieved.”  Éomer sniffled a little.  “All that we have lost and all we have gained.  I cannot tell you how proud you have made me.” He spoke softly, “You withstood so many hardships, especially these last few weeks.  Thank you!”  Éomer continued to lovingly curry Windfleet; he could feel his father close by as he tended his horse, a time they had always shared in his youth.  Tears that he could let no one see fell unabated.  All that they had lost; all that was now expected of him.  “Father, give me strength, guide my path.” He whispered to the air.  “Uncle, I am so sorry that I could not save you, but I will try to carry on as you would.”  As he finished tending Windfleet, he felt less unsettled. 

Gamhelm had just started piling hay and feed close to Windfleet’s stall when he overheard the last words spoken by his uncrowned king.  They broke his heart.  He quickly retreated from the storage area lest Éomer should see that another heard words met only for his horse.  He would never mention what was heard; words spoken to one’s horse were sacrosanct among the Rohirrim.  He returned to the tackroom and busied himself until he heard footsteps behind.

“Gamhelm?” came the gentle inquiry.  The Master Stableman turned around to see Éomer standing diffidently.

“My King!” he said, fist on heart, head bowed.

“Please, Gamhelm!” came the pinched voice, “No formality, not now.  I don’t think I can bear it.  Not from you.”  Gamhelm nodded.  “I need you to be as you have always been, a friend.  So, I won’t feel so alone.”

“Always. My Lord.”  Gamhelm replied, giving the younger man the same warm smile as he had given to a lost little boy who greeted him so formally many years before.