Fic: The Sons of Rohan--All Things Must Pass
Title: Sons of Rohan--All Things Must Pass
Series: Sons of Rohan (part 6)
Sequel to: All Previous Stories in this Series-If you have not read them, this will seem disconnected and have little meaning.
Author: Gwaelinn
Beta: Curiouswombat-Thank you for making me a better writer!
Genre: FPH
Characters: Gamling/Aglaril, Elfhelm/Arathea, Erkenbrand/Éalwyn, Éomer/Lothiriel, Grimbold, Elfwine, OMC, OFC
Rating: NC-17
Timeline: Late Third Age 3019-3021
Setting: Rohan, Gondor, Dol Amroth
Warnings: Character Death
Summary: The valiant Sons of Rohan fought for peace and have found love, but the days of men are numbered and all things must pass.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and locations are the sole property of Professor Tolkien’s Estate save those (and there are several here) I have added from my own imagining. This is written only for pleasure and I gain no profit for my efforts.
Author's Notes: This came to me before I even finished the Captain’s daughter and I wrote it then lest I forgot what the muses intended. As these are my first tales of men it is my first time really writing the passing of someone, yet, it seemed a fitting ending to this unexpected series. I do hope that despite the sorrow you see the hope that lingers…enjoy! ~G
**After much searching for birthdates and such, I have come to the conclusion that although they were not blessed with the longevity of the Dúnedain, the people of Rohan did have a longer life span than men today. Keeping this in mind, I did my best to keep the chronology realistic.
Also, remember that in “The Blacksmith’s Daughter, Gamling’s son by his first wife was about to have his first child-you’ll see the point shortly.
ALL THINGS MUST PASS…
Year 10 of the Fourth Age:
A tribe of Dunlendings, still enraged by past hurts, lay in wait for the small patrol. The element of surprise gave them the upper hand and the skirmish, through short-lived, became deadly. He had fought valiantly-as he had all his long years before, knowing no other life than that of a soldier. He had faced orc and Uruk-hai, Goblins and wild men. He had seen vast destruction and slow rebirth, always at the side of the King of Rohan. For the most part peace had finally come to his homeland and his heart healed. He thought of his son, a seasoned captain in the East-mark now. He was proud of the man he had become. He exhaled; his breath shaky, his vision dim. Then he thought of his beautiful Aglaril. She had seen beyond his years to the man deep within; she had loved him as no other had and he thanked Béma for her everyday. Life had been hard for him but he had no complaints save one: he would not be able to say goodbye.
The small patrol solemnly entered the courtyard, the lifeless body of their beloved Captain born on a litter. Those who sustained wounds refused treatment until their Captain was returned to his lady. With a gasping sob, Agalril threw herself at the pallet bearing her husband. Caring not for the blood and dirt that now stained her shirt she hugged him close, weeping. Yet, she knew he died as he would want, in battle, sword drawn in defense of his home and she could not find it in her heart to be angry. Kissing his cold lips one last time, she stood and accepted the embrace of her king; Éomer’s eyes filled with tears as he held her. With a melancholy smile she nodded as the guard reverently lifted the litter. All things must pass, and in time, she would follow him.
Year 17 of the Fourth Age:
Many had caught the illness, Grimbold’s wife included. Despite all efforts-- human and elf- to save her, the woman succumbed, leaving a heartbroken husband. After her parting, Grimbold began to prepare for his own departure from this world. He had but one remaining son who would not be able to provide an heir of his own, for Grimbol’s youngest son preferred the company of men and had fallen in love with a fine advisor serving in Dol Amroth and resided there. Therefore, with the King’s blessing, Grimbold named Erkenbrand Marshal of the West-mark and began to pass on the duties to the younger man. Erkenbrand was a fine choice, both because of his steadfast loyalty to Rohan and her king, and because Éalwyn, the little Colmáse of the West-mark, blessed him with twin sons who grew strong under their parents loving guidance.
Soon the aged Grimbold found his own body fighting a losing battle with illness. Yet as he drew his last breath, he looked at those around him and smiled. “Do not grieve for me,” he whispered, “I go to sit at Béma’s table, happy with all that has passed. I have no regret and nor should you. Live long and love deeply my family.” For all the war and death that surrounded his life, in the end, Grimbold, son of Rohan died in peace.
Year 30 of the Fourth Age:
She had always longed to visit the sea so Erkenbrand had arranged a little trip for him and his beloved Colmáse; Lothiriel had helped with the arrangements. On a fine late summer morning, the Marshal of the West-mark and his wife bid their twins son goodbye and traveled to Dol Armoth. From there they would take a ship and sail along the coast for two weeks, although that part of the trip remained a secret, a surprise for Éalwyn; Erkenbrand could barely rein in his excitement.
The ship departed just after dawn as the tide began to withdraw. The look of shock followed by joy in his beautiful wife’s face made the whole adventure worthwhile and erased any remaining doubt the Marshal had about the dangers of the sea. Lothiriel’s brother has arranged a fine vessel and seasoned crew; they were in good hands. However, the sea can be fickle and even veteran seamen are no match for a raging tempest. The storm was upon them before they knew it and although the ship’s captain tried to make for a small cove, it was too late. Lighting struck the mast as a massive wave crashed over the rail; the grand ship tipped and could not again be righted. Erkenbrand clung to his beloved, fighting against the waves that now tossed them about like leaves on the wind.
When the skies cleared, the setting sun colored the sky red. Pieces of the vessel and a few bodies washed up on shore but the Marshal and his wife were not to be found. After days of searching, it was with heavy heart that Erchirion journeyed to Rohan himself, to bear the news to the twins. They erected a monument,--as they had nothing to bury--a statue of their noble father and gentle mother. In its base was inscribed, “As they were in life, so now in death-Inseparable.”
Year 45 of the Fourth Age:
The marshal of the East-mark had lived a long and prosperous life. He had defended land and king valiantly against the hoards of the Dark Lord and eventually found the love of his life. Yet, despite all his prowess, he could not stop the ravages of time and his strength began to fail him. He was old and gray and he begged Thea to dissolve their marriage as she had many, many years of life left and he would not see her lonely; but she refused. He was her life and love; she would not abandon him now.
On a cold snowy day at the year’s end, Elfhem, Marshal of the East-mark, could delay his passing no more and bidding his wife stay until he slept; he closed his eyes and passed on. As she had in East Lorien, all those decades ago, Arathea lay next to him, curled into his side, relishing his fading warmth, inhaling deeply the sent of sandalwood. Her heart was at peace. As was her right as a daughter of the Dundedain, she drew a last breath and gave herself to Death, following her beloved to the halls of his fathers.
Year 63 of the Fourth Age:
Elfwine stood proud before the burial mound of Éomer, King, flanked by those dearest to him: his beloved mother; Gamling’s great-grandson, now Captain of the King’s guard; the twin sons of Erkenbrand, steadfast Marshals of the West-mark; and his own beloved wife, Elswyth, daughter of Elfhelm and Arathea. While he mourned the passing of his father, the new king of Rohan knew that with friends at his side, he could become a great king like his father and his father’s uncle before him.
So ends this tale of Rohan. The last of the defenders against the Dark Times passed into to the hallowed halls of their forefathers and the Sons of the Sons of Rohan took up their fathers’ mantel, leading the Riddermark on in prosperity.
Series: Sons of Rohan (part 6)
Sequel to: All Previous Stories in this Series-If you have not read them, this will seem disconnected and have little meaning.
Author: Gwaelinn
Beta: Curiouswombat-Thank you for making me a better writer!
Genre: FPH
Characters: Gamling/Aglaril, Elfhelm/Arathea, Erkenbrand/Éalwyn, Éomer/Lothiriel, Grimbold, Elfwine, OMC, OFC
Rating: NC-17
Timeline: Late Third Age 3019-3021
Setting: Rohan, Gondor, Dol Amroth
Warnings: Character Death
Summary: The valiant Sons of Rohan fought for peace and have found love, but the days of men are numbered and all things must pass.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and locations are the sole property of Professor Tolkien’s Estate save those (and there are several here) I have added from my own imagining. This is written only for pleasure and I gain no profit for my efforts.
Author's Notes: This came to me before I even finished the Captain’s daughter and I wrote it then lest I forgot what the muses intended. As these are my first tales of men it is my first time really writing the passing of someone, yet, it seemed a fitting ending to this unexpected series. I do hope that despite the sorrow you see the hope that lingers…enjoy! ~G
**After much searching for birthdates and such, I have come to the conclusion that although they were not blessed with the longevity of the Dúnedain, the people of Rohan did have a longer life span than men today. Keeping this in mind, I did my best to keep the chronology realistic.
Also, remember that in “The Blacksmith’s Daughter, Gamling’s son by his first wife was about to have his first child-you’ll see the point shortly.
ALL THINGS MUST PASS…
Year 10 of the Fourth Age:
A tribe of Dunlendings, still enraged by past hurts, lay in wait for the small patrol. The element of surprise gave them the upper hand and the skirmish, through short-lived, became deadly. He had fought valiantly-as he had all his long years before, knowing no other life than that of a soldier. He had faced orc and Uruk-hai, Goblins and wild men. He had seen vast destruction and slow rebirth, always at the side of the King of Rohan. For the most part peace had finally come to his homeland and his heart healed. He thought of his son, a seasoned captain in the East-mark now. He was proud of the man he had become. He exhaled; his breath shaky, his vision dim. Then he thought of his beautiful Aglaril. She had seen beyond his years to the man deep within; she had loved him as no other had and he thanked Béma for her everyday. Life had been hard for him but he had no complaints save one: he would not be able to say goodbye.
The small patrol solemnly entered the courtyard, the lifeless body of their beloved Captain born on a litter. Those who sustained wounds refused treatment until their Captain was returned to his lady. With a gasping sob, Agalril threw herself at the pallet bearing her husband. Caring not for the blood and dirt that now stained her shirt she hugged him close, weeping. Yet, she knew he died as he would want, in battle, sword drawn in defense of his home and she could not find it in her heart to be angry. Kissing his cold lips one last time, she stood and accepted the embrace of her king; Éomer’s eyes filled with tears as he held her. With a melancholy smile she nodded as the guard reverently lifted the litter. All things must pass, and in time, she would follow him.
Year 17 of the Fourth Age:
Many had caught the illness, Grimbold’s wife included. Despite all efforts-- human and elf- to save her, the woman succumbed, leaving a heartbroken husband. After her parting, Grimbold began to prepare for his own departure from this world. He had but one remaining son who would not be able to provide an heir of his own, for Grimbol’s youngest son preferred the company of men and had fallen in love with a fine advisor serving in Dol Amroth and resided there. Therefore, with the King’s blessing, Grimbold named Erkenbrand Marshal of the West-mark and began to pass on the duties to the younger man. Erkenbrand was a fine choice, both because of his steadfast loyalty to Rohan and her king, and because Éalwyn, the little Colmáse of the West-mark, blessed him with twin sons who grew strong under their parents loving guidance.
Soon the aged Grimbold found his own body fighting a losing battle with illness. Yet as he drew his last breath, he looked at those around him and smiled. “Do not grieve for me,” he whispered, “I go to sit at Béma’s table, happy with all that has passed. I have no regret and nor should you. Live long and love deeply my family.” For all the war and death that surrounded his life, in the end, Grimbold, son of Rohan died in peace.
Year 30 of the Fourth Age:
She had always longed to visit the sea so Erkenbrand had arranged a little trip for him and his beloved Colmáse; Lothiriel had helped with the arrangements. On a fine late summer morning, the Marshal of the West-mark and his wife bid their twins son goodbye and traveled to Dol Armoth. From there they would take a ship and sail along the coast for two weeks, although that part of the trip remained a secret, a surprise for Éalwyn; Erkenbrand could barely rein in his excitement.
The ship departed just after dawn as the tide began to withdraw. The look of shock followed by joy in his beautiful wife’s face made the whole adventure worthwhile and erased any remaining doubt the Marshal had about the dangers of the sea. Lothiriel’s brother has arranged a fine vessel and seasoned crew; they were in good hands. However, the sea can be fickle and even veteran seamen are no match for a raging tempest. The storm was upon them before they knew it and although the ship’s captain tried to make for a small cove, it was too late. Lighting struck the mast as a massive wave crashed over the rail; the grand ship tipped and could not again be righted. Erkenbrand clung to his beloved, fighting against the waves that now tossed them about like leaves on the wind.
When the skies cleared, the setting sun colored the sky red. Pieces of the vessel and a few bodies washed up on shore but the Marshal and his wife were not to be found. After days of searching, it was with heavy heart that Erchirion journeyed to Rohan himself, to bear the news to the twins. They erected a monument,--as they had nothing to bury--a statue of their noble father and gentle mother. In its base was inscribed, “As they were in life, so now in death-Inseparable.”
Year 45 of the Fourth Age:
The marshal of the East-mark had lived a long and prosperous life. He had defended land and king valiantly against the hoards of the Dark Lord and eventually found the love of his life. Yet, despite all his prowess, he could not stop the ravages of time and his strength began to fail him. He was old and gray and he begged Thea to dissolve their marriage as she had many, many years of life left and he would not see her lonely; but she refused. He was her life and love; she would not abandon him now.
On a cold snowy day at the year’s end, Elfhem, Marshal of the East-mark, could delay his passing no more and bidding his wife stay until he slept; he closed his eyes and passed on. As she had in East Lorien, all those decades ago, Arathea lay next to him, curled into his side, relishing his fading warmth, inhaling deeply the sent of sandalwood. Her heart was at peace. As was her right as a daughter of the Dundedain, she drew a last breath and gave herself to Death, following her beloved to the halls of his fathers.
Year 63 of the Fourth Age:
Elfwine stood proud before the burial mound of Éomer, King, flanked by those dearest to him: his beloved mother; Gamling’s great-grandson, now Captain of the King’s guard; the twin sons of Erkenbrand, steadfast Marshals of the West-mark; and his own beloved wife, Elswyth, daughter of Elfhelm and Arathea. While he mourned the passing of his father, the new king of Rohan knew that with friends at his side, he could become a great king like his father and his father’s uncle before him.
So ends this tale of Rohan. The last of the defenders against the Dark Times passed into to the hallowed halls of their forefathers and the Sons of the Sons of Rohan took up their fathers’ mantel, leading the Riddermark on in prosperity.