Fic: The Trial (Eomer/Theodred) PG-13 for Uisgich. Season's Greetings!
Title: The Trial
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eomer/Theodred
Summary: Eomer faces an unexpected trial and Theodred has a choice to make.
Warnings: Canon age ranges
Disclaimer: The originals of these characters belong to their copyright holders. I borrow them for fun.
Prompt: This is written for uisgich, who asked for something Rohirric, set during the Mid-Winter festivities. Season’s Greetings!
For such an important moment in their lives Eomer was somehow unsettled by how ordinary the setting was or perhaps, he thought, the uncomfortable thud in his chest was the true measure of the weight of this day. He had known it would come almost all of his life, could remember quite clearly his Father telling him about how he had gone through the same trial. They were in the stables at their old home, he must have been six or seven, standing on an up-turned bucket to lean over the wooden wall of the stall, watching Eomund groom the stallion who would kick out when the brush swept over his quarters so that the boy had been banished to a safe distance.
His Father had explained how young men coming into their majority were sent out at the mid-winter festival to track down a herd on foot, to catch up one of the marked horses and ride back to Meduseld all within four days and nights. Those that did not manage the feat were usually sent to train for another year with their younger brothers and to bear the shame as a spur to renewed effort.
They drew lots to see which of the herds each youth was to follow and Eomund had told his own tale to the small boy in broad strokes as a grand adventure, little reckoning that he would not have the chance later to repeat the history and to fill it with fine detail and sage advice for the young man. Eomer knew that he and his sister were loved and valued in the halls of Theoden King and his uncle would wrap an arm about his shoulders and wish him good fortune with a true heart, but there had been no Father, no elder brother, to sit with him on the hay-loft ladder and mull over the finer points of tracking and then cutting out a beast for the ride home and into manhood.
Now he stood with some dozen or so others in a corner of the great kitchen as the Head Groom counted the wooden tokens going into an old helmet and all about them the cooks and bakers and kitchen porters and scullery maids bustled with their preparations for the day’s feasting. Somehow he had imagined that there might be more ceremony than this work-a-day hubbub, had thought that folk would surely watch their choosing and that then they would sweep out of the great hall and down the steps with dignity to set off on their quest.
He had dressed too formally for this, he realised, looking surreptitiously at his erstwhile companions who would soon be his shield-brothers. They wore comfortable, old clothes, whilst he had put on his best. The heels of his new boots rang on the tiled floor, but the toes might pinch and rub after a few leagues of running.
Now the Head Groom was passing amongst them inviting each lad to pick out a token. This year four herds had been set on the plains, with four horses marked in each, and his fingertips suddenly felt as though they were no longer attached to his hands so that he picked up three tokens at first and had to drop two back in without looking at them.
When all were ordered to reveal their luck, he saw ‘North 4’ inked on the slip lying in his hand and a small smile cracked the stiffness in his face. It was Theodred’s herd, his cousin set as Watcher, and although Eomer would be the last to quit Edoras and might be left with the most difficult beast to catch, he knew these horses and suddenly a thrill ran through his body, his young blood roused and already relishing the test. He knew the mare who led the herd, knew where she might take them for the best winter grazing and when he caught up the marked horse with just the rope halter allowed to him it would be his cousin, there to judge his work amongst the herd, who would see his skills, his worth, and a smile from Theodred would be sweet to Eomer son of Eomund.
They had each been given a satchel with a small hard cheese, a wooden bowl, a spoon, meal and salt and whilst those who had drawn the first lots clapped one another on the back and went careering off, scattering indignant kitchen staff in their wake, the rest of them had been herded into a small storeroom where they could not get in anyone’s way, to wait their turn with two hours between each departure.
Eomer had sense enough not to fidget, to pace the room, as he waited; he would not waste his strength in the wait, but as the third group hoisted their packs on their backs and now there were only four of them left, grinning at one another ruefully before withdrawing into their own thoughts again, he found that he was stiffening up and began to slap his thigh muscles to bring some warmth back into them.
The winter sun was low and almost dazzled Eomer as at last he jogged down the path from Meduseld. He knew that each lad’s family would wait by the Main Gate to wish him well and that they might gift him some other thing to carry with him, so long as it would not aid him with the horse itself. He did not expect his sister to be standing amongst the knot of parents and siblings. Eowyn was conducting a long-running battle with her Nurse and Maids to be allowed to do many things thought unsuitable for one who was the living image of her gentle mother. He could not see her red-gold hair anywhere, quietly elbowed his way through the noisy crowd and set off down the muddy track.
He paused for a moment and looked back towards Edoras on its rocky height. He was barely out of sight of the stronghold and already his feet were beginning to ache. He had taken off his over-tunic, bundled it up with his long cloak and hidden it under some bushes, hoping that he would remember the place again. At least now he was not so hot, but he might be forced to go barefoot.
As he trudged onward, there was the jingle of a curb chain from the next clump of undergrowth and rounding a thicket of bramble there was his little sister waiting for him. Despite the lack of a saddle Eowyn sat very upright on her pony and there was a blanket roll in front of her, laid across the pony’s neck.
“I’ve brought your old boots and flint and tinder,” she said, “oh, and a flask of Uncle’s good brandy.”
As he levered off the despised boots and un-wrapped his old ones from the blanket, Eomer did not attempt comment, but nodded and laid his hand for a moment over hers on the rein.
“You are going for Theodred’s herd, aren’t you?” she said thoughtfully. “The lead mare likes you. Be sure to make your peace with her first before you try for the marked one.”
“Yes, sister,” Eomer said, looking down to stamp his heel home and to hide a smile.
A fist wrapped itself in his hair and Eowyn jerked his head upright to look intently into his face.
“You will do credit to our house, I am sure of it,” she said quietly and then she added, “And our cousin will see your quality. Theodred will not keep that to himself, brother, it is not his way to stint his praise of any that deserves it.”
Suddenly, it occurred to Eomer to wonder when his little sister had grown so wise; perhaps when he had been busy with his own affairs and perhaps he had neglected her, caught up in all that was new and thrilling to him. And now he looked at her, Eowyn’s feet were dangling beneath the pony’s stomach. A sturdy beast, it was not troubled by her weight, but at thirteen summers she had outgrown it and he did not fear for her return to Meduseld and her Nurse’s wrath for Eowyn would hold her own.
He had almost toppled her from her seat then, pulling her to him for an embrace in which thanks were mixed with love, and she had sent him on his way with the remembrance of her arms about his neck and the faint scent of white heather from her cloak. It had been their Mother’s favourite scent.
The blanket roll slung over his back with the satchel, Eomer made good time for the remainder of that day. They had been fortunate in the weather; the ground was neither frozen hard nor squelching beneath his feet and he had run and walked for many hours in the direction of the sheltered valley where he guessed that the herd would be grazing. The signs of a large group of unshod horses travelling that way were faint but still visible to the young man’s eyes and once or twice he thought that he could see the shod hooves of Theodred’s mount, travelling along behind, hidden amidst the trampled turf.
As the sun set too soon and gave way to a cloudless sky brilliant with stars and a full moon, turning all around him to blue and silver, he had considered going on. He had no doubt that at least one of the young men who had set out before him would likely want to run all night so that he might come upon the herd early in the morning, before they were tempted to move on, but having thought it through, Eomer had decided that he would rather rest and come upon them refreshed, perhaps even camp the next night alongside them, so that they were used to his smell. It was not so far back to Edoras that he would not be able to do the return trip in the time allowed…and he knew some byways that would save him time if needs be.
That evening he camped in the lee of a group of large boulders which gave him shelter from the stiff breeze. He had unrolled Eowyn’s blanket and alongside the metal flask of brandy, had found a strip of dried venison which had proved a tasty addition to slices of the cheese, toasted before the flames of a small camp-fire. He made rough cakes with the meal and salt, water from a nearby stream and baked them on the hot stones of his hearth, eating some when they were just cool enough to bite into and saving a couple for the morning, when there would be no time to cook.
A starry night meant that there was no cloud to temper the chill in the air; all was clear and crisp. He had slept beside the remains of the fire, drawing the blanket up to cover his nose and so easy was his mind, now that he was truly embarked on the adventure, that he found himself falling into a quiet sleep and woke to a grey dawn and a light covering of hoar frost on the grass around the camp.
As Eomer set out again that morning, he was keenly aware that the weather had taken a turn for the worse in the night. The wind was biting cold, there were leaden skies ahead and once or twice he fancied he caught the smell of snow on the wind. He was glad that he had a good idea of where he was bound, but the thought at the back of his mind that a heavy fall of snow would turn the grassland into a white wilderness without any landmark to guide him, spurred him on.
It was around noon that Eomer saw the first returning rider on the horizon and knew that he had guessed right about the winter grazing. The young man was letting the horse, a quiet bay mare, stride on, riding her skilfully on a loose rein, without bit or saddle. He would be back at Edoras by nightfall, Eomer thought and waved and grinned at the youth, who lifted his hand in greeting as he passed.
The weather, Eomer decided, was starting to close in and he untied the blanket, slung it around his shoulders and bent into the wind. Now he was seeking out gullies and riverbeds in the landscape to try to take as much shelter as he might. Also the wind was in his face and he was less and less able to hear much above its roaring so that it was only as he clambered up out of a dried riverbed and glanced at some movement away to his left that he saw that the second rider had passed him by unseen. Man and horse had the wind at their backs, jogging on purposefully and Eomer did not try to catch the eye, but pressed forward himself.
In another hour or so, he had stopped to take a brief rest, to drink from a stream and eat some cheese and oatcake, crouched down behind a boulder. He knew that he was close to the valley where he expected to find the herd and already he was approving his earlier plan to camp overnight with the horses. The light would be fading soon and there would be neither moon nor stars this night to light his way. Hopefully, he would be able to find a sheltered place to wait out the dark hours with the herd. He was also beginning to think that he might have company in the valley for the third rider, Yarlhil, had not passed him.
Perhaps he was having trouble catching his chosen mount, Eomer thought, smiling to himself. The first two horses he had recognised as quiet, reliable, sorts and Eomer was sure that they had likely been left more awkward beasts to catch, or perhaps the herd had been unsettled by the wind. Well there was nothing in the trial as explained to them by the Head Groom, he thought, that prevented them from sharing a night’s camp, food and blankets.
He was getting close to the herd, half a league at the most, and Eomer wondered at the way that this valley was hidden in amongst the rolling plains. On horseback you might spot the lines of paler grasses at its edge, but on foot you could reach the lip almost before you knew it was before you and skid down its steep sides, through low, scrubby, trees, to the shelter of the valley floor and the precious grazing.
The wind was in his face and the herd would not sense him coming. He could not risk startling them so Eomer decided he would have to make a sweep around the valley rim in the remaining daylight, and come down into the valley, upwind of them. On the other hand, he thought, he might just find a place to camp above the valley and go down to the herd at first light. The gloaming was deepening and evidently Yarlhil had thought the same for there was a smell of smoke on the wind and up ahead he could catch the flicker of a good fire. It might be Theodred’s camp, of course, but the cold was biting now and Eomer was emboldened to seek its shelter - Watcher or no, his cousin would not begrudge the young men warmth.
He trudged onward in deepening gloom. There was a group of huge boulders and Yarlhil had built his camp close to the base of one. It blazed cheerily and alongside the smoke Eomer was beginning to smell roasting meat in the gusty wind blowing into his face. He opened his mouth to shout out a greeting and then something knocked him sideways, off his feet and into the rough heather.
The body rolling on top of his was strong and as Eomer began to thrash about, trying to rise, a leather glove clamped across his mouth and hot breath gusted in his ear as his cousin’s voice whispered urgently, “Quiet, Eomer! These are orc!”
He was still, so still that he believed that Theodred, laying motionless on top of him, must be able to feel his heart beating through the breast of his jerkin. Long moments they lay there, but there was no shout of discovery and gradually he felt Theodred relax and then roll silently off him. The hand had left his mouth to grasp him by the wrist and Eomer heard a faint, “Follow me!” before his cousin slithered away on his stomach.
Slowly, Eomer turned over and began to pull himself forward, but the blanket roll across his back caught in some heather stems and as he struggled to free himself without arousing suspicion for a few seconds he thought about abandoning his gear…then the blanket was unhooked and he was scrambling after Theodred, who had disappeared along a rabbit track and into the darkness.
There was a hillock and as Eomer slid down the other side of it, Theodred’s face loomed out of the dark and a hand gripped his shoulder and drew him down. They lay without speaking for a while, but the wind howled uninterrupted.
“How many of them?” Eomer whispered as he shrugged off the satchel and blanket. He was very aware now that, apart from a long knife, he was unarmed.
“Six…a small raiding party on foot. I think they have lost their way on the grass.” Theodred’s tone was grim. “They were out of food and a lone horse and rider were too tempting.”
Eomer felt the blood rushing in his ears.
“Yarlhil?” he asked hoarsely.
“Arrows brought down horse and man.” Theodred said. “They butchered the horse but thought that the man was dead and left him lying. I was hidden at the other side of the valley and by the time I had crawled here they were gorging themselves. Yarlhil lives, there,” and he gestured to the right of the orc camp, “but barely and we dare not move him…Even if they do not see us, if he makes a sound…I have my sword and a hunting bow,” and his voice grew rougher. “We must never send young men out on this trial again unarmed.”
Eomer lay back on the heather for a moment. “We cannot wait for dawn,” he muttered, then, as they lay silent in the grass he began to wonder, “Do they know about the herd?”
Theodred’s voice was thoughtful in reply.
“I don’t believe so,” he said. “They came from the east and I don’t think they know about the valley. Do you think we should drive the herd up here and through their camp?”
“Forty horses, Theodred,” Eomer insisted, a flutter of excitement beginning to run on his spine.
“They are careless, Eomer, no proper sentries and stuffed with roast meat, but they would still hear the herd coming and likely retreat in amongst the boulders.”
“Then we must think of some way to force them out and into the path of the herd,” Eomer said firmly.
There was a moment’s silence and then a chuckle that was more of a soft rumble came at Eomer out of the darkness and the gloved hand stretched out and grasped his chin, whilst a gentle mouth, framed in a soft beard, brushed his forehead.
“You think I don’t see, cousin, how you handle horses, don’t know you are the most skilful amongst the herds? I also see,” Theodred added, “the cunning with which you avoid your other tutors and the lessons you think not worth your effort…your letters.”
Eomer’s face was hot with embarrassment, glad in the knowledge that Theodred had seen his quality but he was also unable to fathom why Theodred was choosing to chide him about this now.
“You know the name of the old mare who leads the herd,” Theodred said.
“Caruin,” Eomer said doubtfully.
“Properly, ‘Capruin’. It’s an elven name,” Theodred said softly, “and do you know what it means?”
Eomer shook his head.
“It means ‘fire-leaper’,” said Theodred.
……………………………………………………………………………………
Eomer was pressed against the ground, letting the wind flow over him in the darkness. They had to hope that the orc, slumped around their fire, would not smell him upwind of them. Theodred’s bow was clutched in one hand, and his satchel was slung across his back.
Theodred was bringing the herd up, moving them quietly along the valley floor until there was a gentle slope for them to climb and then he would swing them back towards the camp. Caruin had greeted him like an old friend, rubbing her nose on his shirt all the while Theodred crooned softly to her and slipped the rope halter over her head, tying off the loose end to make short reins. He would ride his own horse to begin the drive out of the valley, pushing them from behind to bring the horses back up onto the plain and set them running and then he would change onto the mare for the final moments. Eomer was to wait for the call.
As the horses breasted the top of the rise and came out onto the flat plain, Theodred pushed his own gelding forward to scramble after them and work its way half-way along the group on the right to begin to push the herd to turn left. He had been silent to this point but now he needed them to begin to run and so he let out a howl like the hungriest of wolves, leaning forward over the gelding’s neck as it broke into a fast canter, and Theodred started to howl and yip, urging them on.
The great boulders were between Eomer and the herd and the wind was against them, but still, far away, he heard the wolf’s cry and a few moments later, the beginning of movement and raised voices from the orc camp. This was his moment and he crawled towards the camp and began to scramble up the rocks.
The herd were galloping in earnest now, hooves drumming on the turf and Theodred fell silent, sent the gelding up alongside Caruin and leant out to grab at her mane. For a few strides the horses galloped side-by-side and then Theodred threw himself sideways and landed on the mare’s back, digging his heels into her side and urging her on.
In the camp there was confusion, the orc, wakened from their stupor were alternately listening intently to the coming thunder and then shouting at one another. One or two thought to rouse the fire and to light brands. They were forward of the bonfire now in a ragged line of lit torches and suddenly out of the darkness, came the herd, Caruin at their head, ears laid back and Theodred pressed down onto her neck.
This was the moment when Eomer, behind them, standing on the top of the largest boulder threw the bowl filled with Theoden’s brandy down into the fire, which exploded in a sudden mass of blue flame. Most of the orc turned, or started forwards and immediately were lost, going down amidst the jostling, heaving mass of horses, following their leader and jumping the spluttering flames.
One had escaped almost unscathed and for the first time Eomer saw an orc look at him, only him, as an enemy. As it bared its teeth and began to climb swiftly towards him, he loosed a couple of shots with Theodred’s bow, which hit home but barely seemed to slow the creature’s progress. Suddenly he felt frozen to the spot and it was when it was almost upon him that he began to scramble down the boulder, slipping and eventually falling the rest of the way as Theodred, appearing out of the darkness with a drawn blade despatched the orc, sending its head bouncing off the rocks and downwards into the remnants of the fire.
They had cobbled together a horse-litter and carried Yarlhil homeward, stopping every few miles to lay damp cloths on his brow. He was deep in fever and Eomer had no doubt that the orc arrows had carried some kind of poison. Although they were still within the four days reckoning of the trial, they had been met half-way by riders sent out from Edoras to search for them. The Lady Eowyn had insisted that something was amiss when her brother had not returned hot on the heels of the first two riders and had insisted that a search party be sent out regardless of custom and practice. The young officer in charge of the patrol had been in the Hall when she had faced the King and described her insistence with a measure of awe.
Theodred and Eomer had not gone with them then, but turned back to drive the whole herd home to Edoras and safety. If there were orc about on the Northern plain then Theodred wanted their stock somewhere they could be guarded more easily.
They could have borrowed a horse or taken an extra saddle for Eomer, but Theodred would not allow it. Eomer, son of Eomund, had still to complete his trial and so he was handed a plain rope halter and found himself returning to the valley, riding double behind his cousin.
Theodred was letting the gelding walk on a loose rein. The young man sat behind him was trying very hard not to press too close, for all that Theodred knew very well the effect that their enforced closeness was having on the young man. Eomer was beautiful as a yearling was beautiful. He would fill out into a man with age and experience and Theodred’s soul ached for that beauty but at the same time he did not want to be the object of youthful adoration that would fade with experience.
There was a small gully ahead and the gelding slowed to walk down into it and then jogged for a few strides to get up and over the further slope. Thrown off-balance for a moment, Eomer threw an arm about Theodred’s waist and held on tight, body pressed up against his back, but he did not slacken his hold when they reached the plain again and eventually Theodred let his own hand come up to cover Eomer’s.
At the edge of the valley, Eomer had slid down and this time Theodred did not try to conceal himself as Watcher, but sat leaning on the pommel of his saddle observing as the young man walked amongst the herd to seek out Caruin and greet her, before he went in search of his mount which would be marked with a bead of amber sewn into its forelock.
The little grey mare with the amber bead and mischief in her eye, thought to lead the youth a merry dance like all the others before she would submit to have the halter slipped over her head, but somehow he was so quiet, so peaceful in his ways, that she found herself following when he walked away from her and very soon she had the rope laid over her shoulders and was walking with him towards the rider sat watching them from the tree-line.
“That was neatly done, Eomer, son of Eomund,” Theodred said quietly, as Eomer twisted a halter out of the length of rope and the mare dipped her head to accept it, “the Watcher approves your work in the herd.”
“Are we done, Watcher?” Eomer asked, a little startled.
“It is done,” Theodred replied and then he added, “You have an easy way with horses that makes them trust you, Eomer, and I am confident you will not betray that trust.”
Eomer stood, letting the end of the rope run through his hands as the mare rested her head on his shoulder. Once again, some momentous occasion seemed to have arrived in his life and it was not how he had expected it would be, but now he could accept the strangeness and moreover, draw strength from it.
He looked up and held Theodred's gaze.
“I can be gentle, cousin, when the occasion merits it,” he said and his words hung in the air. And Theodred found himself gazing at those strong hands, playing with the rope end and wondering what it might be like, for once, to trust to another’s heart.
-oo0oo-
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eomer/Theodred
Summary: Eomer faces an unexpected trial and Theodred has a choice to make.
Warnings: Canon age ranges
Disclaimer: The originals of these characters belong to their copyright holders. I borrow them for fun.
Prompt: This is written for uisgich, who asked for something Rohirric, set during the Mid-Winter festivities. Season’s Greetings!
For such an important moment in their lives Eomer was somehow unsettled by how ordinary the setting was or perhaps, he thought, the uncomfortable thud in his chest was the true measure of the weight of this day. He had known it would come almost all of his life, could remember quite clearly his Father telling him about how he had gone through the same trial. They were in the stables at their old home, he must have been six or seven, standing on an up-turned bucket to lean over the wooden wall of the stall, watching Eomund groom the stallion who would kick out when the brush swept over his quarters so that the boy had been banished to a safe distance.
His Father had explained how young men coming into their majority were sent out at the mid-winter festival to track down a herd on foot, to catch up one of the marked horses and ride back to Meduseld all within four days and nights. Those that did not manage the feat were usually sent to train for another year with their younger brothers and to bear the shame as a spur to renewed effort.
They drew lots to see which of the herds each youth was to follow and Eomund had told his own tale to the small boy in broad strokes as a grand adventure, little reckoning that he would not have the chance later to repeat the history and to fill it with fine detail and sage advice for the young man. Eomer knew that he and his sister were loved and valued in the halls of Theoden King and his uncle would wrap an arm about his shoulders and wish him good fortune with a true heart, but there had been no Father, no elder brother, to sit with him on the hay-loft ladder and mull over the finer points of tracking and then cutting out a beast for the ride home and into manhood.
Now he stood with some dozen or so others in a corner of the great kitchen as the Head Groom counted the wooden tokens going into an old helmet and all about them the cooks and bakers and kitchen porters and scullery maids bustled with their preparations for the day’s feasting. Somehow he had imagined that there might be more ceremony than this work-a-day hubbub, had thought that folk would surely watch their choosing and that then they would sweep out of the great hall and down the steps with dignity to set off on their quest.
He had dressed too formally for this, he realised, looking surreptitiously at his erstwhile companions who would soon be his shield-brothers. They wore comfortable, old clothes, whilst he had put on his best. The heels of his new boots rang on the tiled floor, but the toes might pinch and rub after a few leagues of running.
Now the Head Groom was passing amongst them inviting each lad to pick out a token. This year four herds had been set on the plains, with four horses marked in each, and his fingertips suddenly felt as though they were no longer attached to his hands so that he picked up three tokens at first and had to drop two back in without looking at them.
When all were ordered to reveal their luck, he saw ‘North 4’ inked on the slip lying in his hand and a small smile cracked the stiffness in his face. It was Theodred’s herd, his cousin set as Watcher, and although Eomer would be the last to quit Edoras and might be left with the most difficult beast to catch, he knew these horses and suddenly a thrill ran through his body, his young blood roused and already relishing the test. He knew the mare who led the herd, knew where she might take them for the best winter grazing and when he caught up the marked horse with just the rope halter allowed to him it would be his cousin, there to judge his work amongst the herd, who would see his skills, his worth, and a smile from Theodred would be sweet to Eomer son of Eomund.
They had each been given a satchel with a small hard cheese, a wooden bowl, a spoon, meal and salt and whilst those who had drawn the first lots clapped one another on the back and went careering off, scattering indignant kitchen staff in their wake, the rest of them had been herded into a small storeroom where they could not get in anyone’s way, to wait their turn with two hours between each departure.
Eomer had sense enough not to fidget, to pace the room, as he waited; he would not waste his strength in the wait, but as the third group hoisted their packs on their backs and now there were only four of them left, grinning at one another ruefully before withdrawing into their own thoughts again, he found that he was stiffening up and began to slap his thigh muscles to bring some warmth back into them.
The winter sun was low and almost dazzled Eomer as at last he jogged down the path from Meduseld. He knew that each lad’s family would wait by the Main Gate to wish him well and that they might gift him some other thing to carry with him, so long as it would not aid him with the horse itself. He did not expect his sister to be standing amongst the knot of parents and siblings. Eowyn was conducting a long-running battle with her Nurse and Maids to be allowed to do many things thought unsuitable for one who was the living image of her gentle mother. He could not see her red-gold hair anywhere, quietly elbowed his way through the noisy crowd and set off down the muddy track.
He paused for a moment and looked back towards Edoras on its rocky height. He was barely out of sight of the stronghold and already his feet were beginning to ache. He had taken off his over-tunic, bundled it up with his long cloak and hidden it under some bushes, hoping that he would remember the place again. At least now he was not so hot, but he might be forced to go barefoot.
As he trudged onward, there was the jingle of a curb chain from the next clump of undergrowth and rounding a thicket of bramble there was his little sister waiting for him. Despite the lack of a saddle Eowyn sat very upright on her pony and there was a blanket roll in front of her, laid across the pony’s neck.
“I’ve brought your old boots and flint and tinder,” she said, “oh, and a flask of Uncle’s good brandy.”
As he levered off the despised boots and un-wrapped his old ones from the blanket, Eomer did not attempt comment, but nodded and laid his hand for a moment over hers on the rein.
“You are going for Theodred’s herd, aren’t you?” she said thoughtfully. “The lead mare likes you. Be sure to make your peace with her first before you try for the marked one.”
“Yes, sister,” Eomer said, looking down to stamp his heel home and to hide a smile.
A fist wrapped itself in his hair and Eowyn jerked his head upright to look intently into his face.
“You will do credit to our house, I am sure of it,” she said quietly and then she added, “And our cousin will see your quality. Theodred will not keep that to himself, brother, it is not his way to stint his praise of any that deserves it.”
Suddenly, it occurred to Eomer to wonder when his little sister had grown so wise; perhaps when he had been busy with his own affairs and perhaps he had neglected her, caught up in all that was new and thrilling to him. And now he looked at her, Eowyn’s feet were dangling beneath the pony’s stomach. A sturdy beast, it was not troubled by her weight, but at thirteen summers she had outgrown it and he did not fear for her return to Meduseld and her Nurse’s wrath for Eowyn would hold her own.
He had almost toppled her from her seat then, pulling her to him for an embrace in which thanks were mixed with love, and she had sent him on his way with the remembrance of her arms about his neck and the faint scent of white heather from her cloak. It had been their Mother’s favourite scent.
The blanket roll slung over his back with the satchel, Eomer made good time for the remainder of that day. They had been fortunate in the weather; the ground was neither frozen hard nor squelching beneath his feet and he had run and walked for many hours in the direction of the sheltered valley where he guessed that the herd would be grazing. The signs of a large group of unshod horses travelling that way were faint but still visible to the young man’s eyes and once or twice he thought that he could see the shod hooves of Theodred’s mount, travelling along behind, hidden amidst the trampled turf.
As the sun set too soon and gave way to a cloudless sky brilliant with stars and a full moon, turning all around him to blue and silver, he had considered going on. He had no doubt that at least one of the young men who had set out before him would likely want to run all night so that he might come upon the herd early in the morning, before they were tempted to move on, but having thought it through, Eomer had decided that he would rather rest and come upon them refreshed, perhaps even camp the next night alongside them, so that they were used to his smell. It was not so far back to Edoras that he would not be able to do the return trip in the time allowed…and he knew some byways that would save him time if needs be.
That evening he camped in the lee of a group of large boulders which gave him shelter from the stiff breeze. He had unrolled Eowyn’s blanket and alongside the metal flask of brandy, had found a strip of dried venison which had proved a tasty addition to slices of the cheese, toasted before the flames of a small camp-fire. He made rough cakes with the meal and salt, water from a nearby stream and baked them on the hot stones of his hearth, eating some when they were just cool enough to bite into and saving a couple for the morning, when there would be no time to cook.
A starry night meant that there was no cloud to temper the chill in the air; all was clear and crisp. He had slept beside the remains of the fire, drawing the blanket up to cover his nose and so easy was his mind, now that he was truly embarked on the adventure, that he found himself falling into a quiet sleep and woke to a grey dawn and a light covering of hoar frost on the grass around the camp.
As Eomer set out again that morning, he was keenly aware that the weather had taken a turn for the worse in the night. The wind was biting cold, there were leaden skies ahead and once or twice he fancied he caught the smell of snow on the wind. He was glad that he had a good idea of where he was bound, but the thought at the back of his mind that a heavy fall of snow would turn the grassland into a white wilderness without any landmark to guide him, spurred him on.
It was around noon that Eomer saw the first returning rider on the horizon and knew that he had guessed right about the winter grazing. The young man was letting the horse, a quiet bay mare, stride on, riding her skilfully on a loose rein, without bit or saddle. He would be back at Edoras by nightfall, Eomer thought and waved and grinned at the youth, who lifted his hand in greeting as he passed.
The weather, Eomer decided, was starting to close in and he untied the blanket, slung it around his shoulders and bent into the wind. Now he was seeking out gullies and riverbeds in the landscape to try to take as much shelter as he might. Also the wind was in his face and he was less and less able to hear much above its roaring so that it was only as he clambered up out of a dried riverbed and glanced at some movement away to his left that he saw that the second rider had passed him by unseen. Man and horse had the wind at their backs, jogging on purposefully and Eomer did not try to catch the eye, but pressed forward himself.
In another hour or so, he had stopped to take a brief rest, to drink from a stream and eat some cheese and oatcake, crouched down behind a boulder. He knew that he was close to the valley where he expected to find the herd and already he was approving his earlier plan to camp overnight with the horses. The light would be fading soon and there would be neither moon nor stars this night to light his way. Hopefully, he would be able to find a sheltered place to wait out the dark hours with the herd. He was also beginning to think that he might have company in the valley for the third rider, Yarlhil, had not passed him.
Perhaps he was having trouble catching his chosen mount, Eomer thought, smiling to himself. The first two horses he had recognised as quiet, reliable, sorts and Eomer was sure that they had likely been left more awkward beasts to catch, or perhaps the herd had been unsettled by the wind. Well there was nothing in the trial as explained to them by the Head Groom, he thought, that prevented them from sharing a night’s camp, food and blankets.
He was getting close to the herd, half a league at the most, and Eomer wondered at the way that this valley was hidden in amongst the rolling plains. On horseback you might spot the lines of paler grasses at its edge, but on foot you could reach the lip almost before you knew it was before you and skid down its steep sides, through low, scrubby, trees, to the shelter of the valley floor and the precious grazing.
The wind was in his face and the herd would not sense him coming. He could not risk startling them so Eomer decided he would have to make a sweep around the valley rim in the remaining daylight, and come down into the valley, upwind of them. On the other hand, he thought, he might just find a place to camp above the valley and go down to the herd at first light. The gloaming was deepening and evidently Yarlhil had thought the same for there was a smell of smoke on the wind and up ahead he could catch the flicker of a good fire. It might be Theodred’s camp, of course, but the cold was biting now and Eomer was emboldened to seek its shelter - Watcher or no, his cousin would not begrudge the young men warmth.
He trudged onward in deepening gloom. There was a group of huge boulders and Yarlhil had built his camp close to the base of one. It blazed cheerily and alongside the smoke Eomer was beginning to smell roasting meat in the gusty wind blowing into his face. He opened his mouth to shout out a greeting and then something knocked him sideways, off his feet and into the rough heather.
The body rolling on top of his was strong and as Eomer began to thrash about, trying to rise, a leather glove clamped across his mouth and hot breath gusted in his ear as his cousin’s voice whispered urgently, “Quiet, Eomer! These are orc!”
He was still, so still that he believed that Theodred, laying motionless on top of him, must be able to feel his heart beating through the breast of his jerkin. Long moments they lay there, but there was no shout of discovery and gradually he felt Theodred relax and then roll silently off him. The hand had left his mouth to grasp him by the wrist and Eomer heard a faint, “Follow me!” before his cousin slithered away on his stomach.
Slowly, Eomer turned over and began to pull himself forward, but the blanket roll across his back caught in some heather stems and as he struggled to free himself without arousing suspicion for a few seconds he thought about abandoning his gear…then the blanket was unhooked and he was scrambling after Theodred, who had disappeared along a rabbit track and into the darkness.
There was a hillock and as Eomer slid down the other side of it, Theodred’s face loomed out of the dark and a hand gripped his shoulder and drew him down. They lay without speaking for a while, but the wind howled uninterrupted.
“How many of them?” Eomer whispered as he shrugged off the satchel and blanket. He was very aware now that, apart from a long knife, he was unarmed.
“Six…a small raiding party on foot. I think they have lost their way on the grass.” Theodred’s tone was grim. “They were out of food and a lone horse and rider were too tempting.”
Eomer felt the blood rushing in his ears.
“Yarlhil?” he asked hoarsely.
“Arrows brought down horse and man.” Theodred said. “They butchered the horse but thought that the man was dead and left him lying. I was hidden at the other side of the valley and by the time I had crawled here they were gorging themselves. Yarlhil lives, there,” and he gestured to the right of the orc camp, “but barely and we dare not move him…Even if they do not see us, if he makes a sound…I have my sword and a hunting bow,” and his voice grew rougher. “We must never send young men out on this trial again unarmed.”
Eomer lay back on the heather for a moment. “We cannot wait for dawn,” he muttered, then, as they lay silent in the grass he began to wonder, “Do they know about the herd?”
Theodred’s voice was thoughtful in reply.
“I don’t believe so,” he said. “They came from the east and I don’t think they know about the valley. Do you think we should drive the herd up here and through their camp?”
“Forty horses, Theodred,” Eomer insisted, a flutter of excitement beginning to run on his spine.
“They are careless, Eomer, no proper sentries and stuffed with roast meat, but they would still hear the herd coming and likely retreat in amongst the boulders.”
“Then we must think of some way to force them out and into the path of the herd,” Eomer said firmly.
There was a moment’s silence and then a chuckle that was more of a soft rumble came at Eomer out of the darkness and the gloved hand stretched out and grasped his chin, whilst a gentle mouth, framed in a soft beard, brushed his forehead.
“You think I don’t see, cousin, how you handle horses, don’t know you are the most skilful amongst the herds? I also see,” Theodred added, “the cunning with which you avoid your other tutors and the lessons you think not worth your effort…your letters.”
Eomer’s face was hot with embarrassment, glad in the knowledge that Theodred had seen his quality but he was also unable to fathom why Theodred was choosing to chide him about this now.
“You know the name of the old mare who leads the herd,” Theodred said.
“Caruin,” Eomer said doubtfully.
“Properly, ‘Capruin’. It’s an elven name,” Theodred said softly, “and do you know what it means?”
Eomer shook his head.
“It means ‘fire-leaper’,” said Theodred.
……………………………………………………………………………………
Eomer was pressed against the ground, letting the wind flow over him in the darkness. They had to hope that the orc, slumped around their fire, would not smell him upwind of them. Theodred’s bow was clutched in one hand, and his satchel was slung across his back.
Theodred was bringing the herd up, moving them quietly along the valley floor until there was a gentle slope for them to climb and then he would swing them back towards the camp. Caruin had greeted him like an old friend, rubbing her nose on his shirt all the while Theodred crooned softly to her and slipped the rope halter over her head, tying off the loose end to make short reins. He would ride his own horse to begin the drive out of the valley, pushing them from behind to bring the horses back up onto the plain and set them running and then he would change onto the mare for the final moments. Eomer was to wait for the call.
As the horses breasted the top of the rise and came out onto the flat plain, Theodred pushed his own gelding forward to scramble after them and work its way half-way along the group on the right to begin to push the herd to turn left. He had been silent to this point but now he needed them to begin to run and so he let out a howl like the hungriest of wolves, leaning forward over the gelding’s neck as it broke into a fast canter, and Theodred started to howl and yip, urging them on.
The great boulders were between Eomer and the herd and the wind was against them, but still, far away, he heard the wolf’s cry and a few moments later, the beginning of movement and raised voices from the orc camp. This was his moment and he crawled towards the camp and began to scramble up the rocks.
The herd were galloping in earnest now, hooves drumming on the turf and Theodred fell silent, sent the gelding up alongside Caruin and leant out to grab at her mane. For a few strides the horses galloped side-by-side and then Theodred threw himself sideways and landed on the mare’s back, digging his heels into her side and urging her on.
In the camp there was confusion, the orc, wakened from their stupor were alternately listening intently to the coming thunder and then shouting at one another. One or two thought to rouse the fire and to light brands. They were forward of the bonfire now in a ragged line of lit torches and suddenly out of the darkness, came the herd, Caruin at their head, ears laid back and Theodred pressed down onto her neck.
This was the moment when Eomer, behind them, standing on the top of the largest boulder threw the bowl filled with Theoden’s brandy down into the fire, which exploded in a sudden mass of blue flame. Most of the orc turned, or started forwards and immediately were lost, going down amidst the jostling, heaving mass of horses, following their leader and jumping the spluttering flames.
One had escaped almost unscathed and for the first time Eomer saw an orc look at him, only him, as an enemy. As it bared its teeth and began to climb swiftly towards him, he loosed a couple of shots with Theodred’s bow, which hit home but barely seemed to slow the creature’s progress. Suddenly he felt frozen to the spot and it was when it was almost upon him that he began to scramble down the boulder, slipping and eventually falling the rest of the way as Theodred, appearing out of the darkness with a drawn blade despatched the orc, sending its head bouncing off the rocks and downwards into the remnants of the fire.
They had cobbled together a horse-litter and carried Yarlhil homeward, stopping every few miles to lay damp cloths on his brow. He was deep in fever and Eomer had no doubt that the orc arrows had carried some kind of poison. Although they were still within the four days reckoning of the trial, they had been met half-way by riders sent out from Edoras to search for them. The Lady Eowyn had insisted that something was amiss when her brother had not returned hot on the heels of the first two riders and had insisted that a search party be sent out regardless of custom and practice. The young officer in charge of the patrol had been in the Hall when she had faced the King and described her insistence with a measure of awe.
Theodred and Eomer had not gone with them then, but turned back to drive the whole herd home to Edoras and safety. If there were orc about on the Northern plain then Theodred wanted their stock somewhere they could be guarded more easily.
They could have borrowed a horse or taken an extra saddle for Eomer, but Theodred would not allow it. Eomer, son of Eomund, had still to complete his trial and so he was handed a plain rope halter and found himself returning to the valley, riding double behind his cousin.
Theodred was letting the gelding walk on a loose rein. The young man sat behind him was trying very hard not to press too close, for all that Theodred knew very well the effect that their enforced closeness was having on the young man. Eomer was beautiful as a yearling was beautiful. He would fill out into a man with age and experience and Theodred’s soul ached for that beauty but at the same time he did not want to be the object of youthful adoration that would fade with experience.
There was a small gully ahead and the gelding slowed to walk down into it and then jogged for a few strides to get up and over the further slope. Thrown off-balance for a moment, Eomer threw an arm about Theodred’s waist and held on tight, body pressed up against his back, but he did not slacken his hold when they reached the plain again and eventually Theodred let his own hand come up to cover Eomer’s.
At the edge of the valley, Eomer had slid down and this time Theodred did not try to conceal himself as Watcher, but sat leaning on the pommel of his saddle observing as the young man walked amongst the herd to seek out Caruin and greet her, before he went in search of his mount which would be marked with a bead of amber sewn into its forelock.
The little grey mare with the amber bead and mischief in her eye, thought to lead the youth a merry dance like all the others before she would submit to have the halter slipped over her head, but somehow he was so quiet, so peaceful in his ways, that she found herself following when he walked away from her and very soon she had the rope laid over her shoulders and was walking with him towards the rider sat watching them from the tree-line.
“That was neatly done, Eomer, son of Eomund,” Theodred said quietly, as Eomer twisted a halter out of the length of rope and the mare dipped her head to accept it, “the Watcher approves your work in the herd.”
“Are we done, Watcher?” Eomer asked, a little startled.
“It is done,” Theodred replied and then he added, “You have an easy way with horses that makes them trust you, Eomer, and I am confident you will not betray that trust.”
Eomer stood, letting the end of the rope run through his hands as the mare rested her head on his shoulder. Once again, some momentous occasion seemed to have arrived in his life and it was not how he had expected it would be, but now he could accept the strangeness and moreover, draw strength from it.
He looked up and held Theodred's gaze.
“I can be gentle, cousin, when the occasion merits it,” he said and his words hung in the air. And Theodred found himself gazing at those strong hands, playing with the rope end and wondering what it might be like, for once, to trust to another’s heart.
-oo0oo-