Chapter One- Eomer Tempts Fate

Eomer stood motionless, thankful for the darkness that cloaked him.  He had ridden through Orc infested lands, crawling with vile and evil creatures.  He had fought in battles not to be won-- battles where his men were stunningly outnumbered by their enemies.  He had even dared to face Sauron at his Black Gate, knowing that they were outnumbered and severely unprepared.  And yet, above all of those fears, this moment was greater.  He stood now, as still as the murky waters of a catch basin deep into Moria.  He held onto the tree that hid him, fearing that if he let go, his knees would buckle and he would be discovered.  Despite his many layers of clothing, he shivered.  Underneath his thick tunic, his leggings and his robe, a sheen of cold sweat covered him.

His eyes never strayed from the fascinating figure in the river.  When Eomer had stumbled upon the scene, she was kneeling in the shallow water washing her clothing.  Despite the chill in the air, she wore only a slip.  When she was finished washing her clothing, she stood and waded farther into the river, using the hem of her ankle-length slip to scrub her face, neck and arms.  She then sat down in the shallow end again and leaned her head back until her long blond hair was immersed in the cold, rushing water.  She stayed this way, with her entire head under the water, save her nose and mouth for quite sometime. 

Eomer stood, too afraid to move, but also unable to avert his eyes.  He knew that if he wanted to leave without giving himself away, now would be the time, but try as he might, he couldn’t.   

The woman’s chest rose and fell rapidly, no doubt affected by the cold water.  Finally, when her nerves could no longer stand the cold, and her heart threatened to resign, she sat up, squeezed the water out of her hair, and walked onto the gravel bank.  She gathered up the hem of her slip and wrung it out.  She stood there for some time, staring off into the dark, allowing the cold breeze to dry her skin. 

Eomer knew that she would be passing near him soon, for the tree that supported him grew right off of the trail leading back to the rolling plains of Rohan.  He knew it was too late to try to sneak off now.  The brush was too thick to cut through, and the trail was wide and flat, and only too near to where the woman stood.  He was trapped, caught by his own weakness.  He could do nothing but hide in the shadows of the trees and wait.

Finally, the woman turned and wrapped herself in a red cloak hanging from a nearby tree branch.  Gathering her wet clothing into a bundle, she set off up the trail.  Eomer tried to creep around the tree without crunching the dry, brittle leaves that coated the forest floor.  She was only a few feet away from him now.  He closed his eyes as she grew nearer, as if afraid that the burning in his heart would be reflected through his eyes.  And then she was past him, making great speed up the trail, longing for the warmth of the fire that she knew awaited her at her family’s camp.  He watched her fade into the cold moonlight, her head hung low, pressing her chin to her chest with her arms folded tightly in front of her.

She was gone, and yet he still could not leave.  He stood there, watching the spot on the trail where he had last seen here.  He marveled at her strength and independence.  Never did women of the Mark bathe alone, especially not at night.  They always went in groups, and always under the warmth of the afternoon sun.  It was a tradition.  Something that the women delighted in doing, much as the men delighted in going on hunting excursions.  Even after the fall of Sauron and the return of the True King of Gondor, the custom continued.  The woods and the plains of Rohan were safe now.  Orcs and Uruks had been eliminated and driven into hiding.  But whether living in Edoras or in the outlying lands, the old customs continued.

Eomer was still staring off into the distance, trying to recall the face of the young woman he had seen.  She could not have been much older than 20.  She was lean and pale, but also toned and strong.   She did not seem to be a woman who had enjoyed an easy life.  Her back was straight and proud, but her shoulders spoke of one who worked tirelessly.  Though he could not see the color of her eyes, he imagined them to be a stormy green; a strong color that would mirror the strength that he observed in her.

“Where does she come from?” Eomer said to himself out loud.  A noise behind him made Eomer spin around suddenly. 

“She comes from a family who does not take kindly to people who threaten her security!”  A tall, broad-shouldered youth stood before Eomer.  His sword was drawn and his eyes were full of rage.  “What are you doing here?” He demanded.

Eomer knew he was caught, but his heart was not troubled.  Had he been caught by the woman he would have been horrified, but before him stood only a boy; tall and strong no doubt, but still, only a boy.  “Forgive me lad, I meant her no harm.  I was going to bathe in the river myself, when I came upon her.”

The boy stepped closer, sword still pointing directly at Eomer’s throat.  “Do you think I am a fool?  I have been watching you just as you have been watching my sister.  You have been looking upon her with your lustful eyes!”

Eomer was shocked at this accusation; he was after all the King of the Mark.  Who was this impudent boy?  He stepped towards him, his hand outstretched in a sign on truce.  “Settle down lad, I had no intention of bothering your sister.”  Even as he said this his mind wandered back to the distracting image of the woman. 

Eomer was brought back into reality when he felt the sharp sting of the boy’s sword biting into his forearm.  Eomer was enraged.  “You will regret that, boy!” He shouted as he drew his sword and backed the boy up against tree.  He positioned himself to strike back and was about to do so when he saw something in the boy that startled him.  Dark, stormy green eyes stared back at him, full of contempt and indignance.  Eyes much like he had pictured in the woman. 

Eomer relaxed his grip on his sword and took a step back.  The boy glared at him, not looking at all thankful for this supposed display of mercy, in fact, he shook with rage.  He lunged again towards Eomer, who sidestepped the stroke and grabbed the boy by his neck, throwing him harshly to the ground.  He then pulled the boys’ hands behind him and pinned him down underneath the weight of his body.

The boy struggled, writhing and twisting trying to break free from the strong hold that Eomer had on him.  Eomer was still on guard, but he was no longer angry-- he was merely intrigued.  He wanted to know more about this boy and his sister.

“Settle down lad!  Do you not know who I am?” 

“I know who you are!” The boy grunted, his face pressed into the dirt below him.  “You are a coward and a thief.  You sneak around behind trees and steal the innocence of my sister.”

Eomer was shocked at the forwardness of the young man.  “Why pray tell were you here?” he shot back.  “Protecting your sister from the cold?”

The boy stopped struggling.  He turned his head as far as his stiff neck would allow and looked Eomer in the eye.  “How dare you accuse me of preying on my own sister?”  He was not yelling; his voice was quiet, yet fierce.

“Of course that is not what I meant to imply.” Eomer said quickly.  But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie.  What was I implying?  I would never allow Eowyn to go into the woods alone at night to bath.  I would follow her and keep a discreet watch.  Eomer’s mind raced as he tried to find justifications for his actions.  Had he found someone spying on Eowyn he would have slit their throat without any questions, for his sisters honor would be at stake.  He now felt sick to his stomach at the thought of what he had done.  He was not filled with lustful thoughts as he watched the woman, he was captivated by her; but even so, he knew what he had done was wrong. 

Eomer was brought back to the present by the sound of hoof-beats advancing towards the river.  He quickly released the boy, stood, bowed to him, and then retreated quickly across the river, away from the girls’ camp.  His horse was quite a ways down the river on the side that he had just left, but he didn’t want to encounter whoever was coming by horse.  So he pressed on, through thick brush, off the trail, trying to follow the river as closely as possible.  Finally, he came to a spot where he could cross easily, and he did so, returning to his horse within the next hour.

Eomer did not know if the boy had tried to follow, but he had not any indication that he was anything but completely and utterly alone in those woods.  Comfortable, Eomer thought sarcastically to himself. I am always alone, even when surrounded by many.  Why change anything now?