“Do you always keep a hayfork in the house? I must admit, it was a sight I did not expect.” Éomer wondered aloud, smiling teasingly. He was leading Stormwing on a rope behind him, with little Willa and Wyndra proudly sitting on the mare’s back and beaming down, while Freya had the smallest one in her arms and Halad was walking alongside, content with being in his presence. Ever since the lad had woken, he had been around Éomer, at first shyly asking the young warrior about his life as a rider of the Mark, and then gratefully accepting the little errands the men trusted him with by and by, once they had noticed how much Halad was awed by their presence. From helping taking care of their horses to polishing tack, the youth had enthusiastically accepted each task, and again Éomer had seen himself in the lad. Like Halad, he had always been around the warriors whenever his father’s éored had been home, eager to listen to the tales of their courageous deeds. He still vividly remembered the day when one of the younger soldiers had entrusted him with his sword, showing him a few parries and blocks and explaining to him how one had to take care of such an artfully crafted item. Steel was rare in the Mark, it was not something they made themselves, but had to trade with Gondor in exchange for their precious horses. Éomer had felt excited over being allowed to handle such a valuable token, but then his father had seen them and berated the soldier for lending a sharp blade to a lad of only six summers.

“Of course I do. This was not the first time the wargs attacked us. We often have to fend them off in this part of the Mark, especially during hard winters. I have no shiny sword like you,” Freya spoke into his memories, waking him. Teasing back, she slightly tilted her head. “I must take whatever weapon is available. But the fork is good, as efficient as any sword. I discouraged many wargs and wolves from eating us with it. I may not look as elegant as you in the fight, but in the end, they run from me just the same. Isn’t that all that counts?”

“In the end, yes.” Looking over to where his comrades were still busy with the disposure of the three predators they had killed last night, Éomer shook his head. “I still won’t believe it though that you want to keep their meat. I would never think of eating a warg.” He knotted his eyebrows in disgust at the thought.

“I agree that it is not the best-tasting meat I’ve ever eaten,” she agreed, following his gaze. “But there is certainly worse, and it fills your stomach. Out here, we cannot afford to choose. We can only rarely slaughter one of our cattle or sheep, and we even have to be careful with the geese and the chicken. So when a great piece of meat falls onto our plates from out of nowhere, we eat it, as long as it can be eaten. Where have you lived so far, that it would be different there?” From where they were, it was impossible to determine what grizzly task the men back at the barn were carrying out, and she was grateful that the captain had ordered Éomer to take them for a walk for the duration of the slaughter, since his injured arm prevented him from partaking in any of the activities the warriors were filling their day with. Not only would it spare her siblings the gruesome sight of the wargs being cut to pieces, but it also presented her with an unexpected occasion to be together with Éomer, even if they were not entirely alone. And the good news had not stopped there: With the snow still falling and the pathways through the mountains blocked, Elfhelm had asked her permission to stay for two more days, a request she had granted more than gladly, as it meant that Éomer would be here for Yule. It all sounded too good to be true.

“I was raised in Aldburg and then moved to Edoras when my uncle took us in his household. So, aye, things were different there. Except for the year of the great draught when I was but a child myself, we always had enough to eat, and no shortage of meat, either.”

“I see.” She blinked. “Life spoiled you! Well, young rider, then prepare to experience your first true Rohirric Yule feast, as your kinsmen in the outer reaches of Rohan celebrate it! What an appropriate time to taste your first warg. I promise that I will try to make this a pleasant experience.” His indignant expression made her break into laughter, and her siblings along with her. Finally, Éomer could not help but laugh with them, and it felt good. He was still smiling when they returned to the farm, and the nervous feeling in his stomach had by then changed into a pleasant warm glow. Heads turned as they passed the working Rohirrim, but Éomer did not notice their unusual attention.

------------------

It was late before the three dead wargs had been disposed of; the best part of the meat now either freezing in the family’s storage room for later use or in the process of being marinated in herbs for next day’s Yule feast. The remains had been burnt in some distance from the hut, leaving nothing but a pile of blackened bones which were fast covered by the snow. With the exception of Éomer, Éothain and Elfhelm, who were either injured or ill, all men had made themselves useful by either helping to let the orc-wolves disappear or repairing the damage to the hut and barn.

Now that night had fallen once again, Éomer could not help feeling tension return as the darkness brought back the memories of the recent events. Would the diminished pack try it again, or had the loss of three of its members discouraged and convinced them to seek easier prey elsewhere? Thoughtfully, he chewed on the piece of bread he had kept from the evening meal, and his gaze once again went through the window to the hut. A slow, wistful smile spread over his face. How much he longed to be there now, with her. Yet he had his duty to fulfil, and after a whole day of feeling more or less useless, he was grateful for the opportunity to add his part to the protection of Freya’s family.

Settling back against the beam, Éomer suddenly heard a voice call out for him from below, muted as to not wake up the nearby sleeping men, but sounding urgent nonetheless. Furrowing his brow, he looked down from his elevated position, and saw to his surprise Tolgor climbing up the ladder.

“What is the matter, Tolgor?”

“Elfhelm wants to have a word with you. He told me to take your position in the meantime.”

The healer’s words cut through Éomer’s bliss like a knife. Had he done something wrong? But he had been told to take Freya and her siblings away from the site of the slaughter!

“What does he want?”

“I do not know, Éomer, you will have to ask him yourself. Now go, he is waiting for you.”

Putting the half-eaten piece of bread down, Éomer waited until his brother-in-arms had cleared the ladder and then descended with a growing feeling of wariness, angered by his bad conscience when he did not even know what he was feeling guilty of. A moment later, he saw Elfhelm sitting in the corner underneath his own position, his back propped against the wall and his injured foot resting on a thickly folded blanket. It was indeed broken, Tolgor had confirmed after his examination in the morning, and his verdict had darkened Elfhelm’s mood. The captain hated being forced to inactivity, and had instead resorted to chasing his kinsmen around in a gruff way Éomer had so far not experienced from his commander. With a growing feeling of anxiety in his stomach, Éomer stepped closer.

“You were asking for me, Captain?”

“Éomer! Aye, I was. Come over here, son, I need to speak with you. Sit down.”

The older man’s expression was inscrutable, and while Éomer had the notion that Elfhelm was at least not angry with him, he also was not likely to have called him from his post for nothing. Awkwardly, he lowered himself to the ground, hardly daring to look his captain in the eye as the warrior began to speak.

“What is the matter, young rider? Why do you stare at the ground and evade my gaze, as if you were expecting to be berated for something?”

His head still bowed, Éomer looked up from underneath his eyebrows.

“Is that not why you called me, my lord?”

“Then what failure would it be that I would accuse you of?”

“I do not know. But—“

“There is no “but”, Éomer. If you cannot name it, I can’t as well…except maybe for the foolish thing you did yesterday.”

His heart missed a beat. There. Now he would hear about it. Yet why did the captain not speak more clearly?

“Foolish, my lord?”

“Stepping away from us to divert the warg’s attention. Battling that beast even though you are yet barely experienced in fighting. It was a bold move, but it could have gone wrong. Those creatures are fell beyond belief. For a moment, I feared for you.”

Éomer frowned.

“But it would have killed you!”

“It would not have attacked if all three of us would have stood together. They are vicious, but they also prefer easy prey. But of course you couldn’t have known. This is something only experience teaches you.” Upon seeing his apprentice’s dropping face, Elfhelm snorted in amusement and patted Éomer’s hand. “Nay, young rider, do not take my words to heart. What you did was very brave, but please wait with a repeat until you are ready for it. Your father would be furious with me if something happened to you. And we both know that the great Marshal Éomund of Aldburg would find a way of letting me feel his wrath even from the halls of your ancestors. You would not want that, would you, son?”

“Of course not, captain. I will try to be better, even if what happened, happened out of an impulse. I did not think about it.” Relief was too great for words as Éomer readied himself to return to his post. “Was this what you wanted to speak with me about?”

“I wanted to thank you, aye, but it is not the reason for your being here. We must speak about the girl.” Without a warning, Elfhelm’s expression darkened, and both the sight of it and the captain’s words knocked the breath from Éomer’s lungs. So he had been right to be wary. A chill raced down his spine.

“Aye?”

Grey eyes held him captive, and in the flickering light of the candle, Elfhelm’s face had never looked more serious.

“Let her be, Éomer. It cannot work.”

All of a sudden, there didn’t seem to be enough air in the barn. He felt like suffocating.

“But… why? And how—“

“All noticed it, Éomer. Do you think we are blind? Alas, I wish I had known how serious this is for you; and I would not have sent you out with her this afternoon. I was relieved to have her and the children out of the way. But now that it can no longer be disregarded… Éomer, that girl belongs to the ordinary folk. She is a farmer’s daughter. You are a rider of Rohan. It cannot work.”

“Why not? You have a family yourself! My father had a family, and he was a Marshal of the Mark! Why should I be doomed to stay alone?”

“I did not mean that you should stay alone. As you know, most of the men have families. Alas, they do not see them often, and it tears them apart every time they have to leave, but it works because they are perfectly matched. You and Freya, however, are not a match.”

“How would you know?” Éomer rebuked harder than he had intended, and anger clouded his expression. “You know nothing about her, and little about me!”

“I know more about you than you think, Éomer. I probably know you even better than you know yourself.” Elfhelm inhaled deeply, knowing about the sensitivity of the issue he was discussing with the young warrior. “And I know enough about Freya to understand that the two of you cannot stay together. She is a farm girl, Éomer, and I mean that in an appreciative sense. She works hard to ensure that our people have enough to eat, and there is no task that is more important. Her family has worked on this land for generations, and it is a great part of who she is. She would never leave it, Éomer, and I know you well enough to say that you would never be content with living the life of a farmer.”

“Perhaps I would!”

“No, you wouldn’t. You have strived for becoming a Rider of the Armed Forces all your life, and the six month you’ve been riding with us are enough for me to determine that you have found your true calling. I know how meticulously you prepared yourself for it, and I haven’t said that often to recruits, Éomer, but you show extraordinary promise. Your sense of duty is impressive for one so young. I cannot remember that I ever had to reprimand you for not doing what you had been told, and my memory is well, young rider! You learn fast, you get along well with your comrades, and your instincts are impressive. You are a very good rider, and your swordplay improves with each sparring. You are eager to prove yourself, and you would never be content with sowing crops and ploughing fields. With staying in the same place all your life, isolated from other people. Nay, Éomer son of Éomund, the blood of a warrior flows through your veins, whether you like it or not. It was written on your face the moment you swore your oath to Théoden-King, and it was written on your face last night when I asked for the two men to accompany me outside. This is your calling, and you would lie if you denied it. I know you that well at least.”

The grey eyes pierced him, and Éomer felt naked under the knowing stare. It was as if Elfhelm looked right into his head, and he wanted to shout his anger over the captain’s intrusion right into his mentor’s face. Yet something held him back, and it was the realisation that the older man was speaking the truth. He had hardly yet begun to live the life of a warrior, but already he knew that it was what he had been born for. It felt right. And yes, he wanted to protect their people, and teach their enemies to utter his name only with fear. But he also wanted to have Freya by his side. What was he to do?

Reading the storm of contradicting emotions in the young man’s face, Elfhelm extended his arm and gave Éomer’s hand a comforting squeeze.

“I am sorry, Éomer. She is a warm-hearted and courageous lass. I understand that you would feel that way toward her, but neither of you would find happiness if you stayed together. Think about it.”

Not knowing what to answer, Éomer stared at the floor, heat flushing his face. This was not fair. Elfhelm could not forbid him to see Freya, not for as long as he did not neglect his duties. As silence stretched between them, the young rider understood that he was dismissed.

“Would that be all, Captain?”

“Yes, Éomer.”

He rose to his feet, still unable to face the older warrior.

“Then I will go back to my post again. My watch has hardly begun yet.”

“Éomer?” Elfhelm’s deep voice was coloured with compassion. “Think about it. It is not I who stands between you. It’s the circumstances.”

Nodding, but avoiding his captain’s gaze, Éomer turned toward the ladder.