When word had been sent to Éomer that Théodred and his men had been attacked at the Fords of Isen, the Third Marshall rushed his éored there with all speed
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It had been a slow day indeed. Éowyn had attended to the King, and avoided Wormtongue as best as she could - an impossible task, knowing that the adviser was just by her uncle's side, watching, ever listening. She longed to have him silenced forever, but what could she do? She could not raise a weapon against Wormtongue, for it was as if she went against her King, and that she would never do.
Éowyn bade the King farewell, and went to her chambers. With a sigh, she sank on her bed and reached for her parchment - now her way of passing time. Words soon took shape, some confounding, some amusing, when suddenly her attention was called, and the familiar handwriting tugged at her heart.
Théodred hurt. Returning to EdorasFor a moment she could only stare at the words. Théodred was hurt? How? Where? She stood suddenly, the parchment falling to her feet, before hastily moving to her door. Healers must be summoned! Her cousin must be saved at all cost! And yet
( ... )
Éomer hardly thought beyond the need for haste as he drove Firefoot onward. He could not contemplate the possibility that his cousin might perish from his wounds, and so he only thought of reaching a healer so Théodred's pain could be eased.
When Edoras arose in the distance, a bright green hill against the mountains, he let out a breath of relief. They were almost there. Soon, his cousin would be healed.
Time passed quickly now. They were through the gates of the lower city. Now they were ascending the hill to Meduseld. The stables came into view and Éomer stopped Firefoot in front of them. He ordered a litter to carry Théodred inside to his chamber and, carefully dismounting, Éomer and his men gathered to help their prince down.
"My lady." The servant rushed towards her. "My lady, they are here. But... your cousin, my lady, it seems--"
Éowyn did not bother to wait for the servant to tell her something she already knew. She rushed to the gates, wanting to see them as they entered, but one of the soldiers had told her that her brother's men had already entered the Golden Hall. Éowyn nodded and followed, knowing that they might have gone to Théodred's room.
She now wished, with all of her heart, that her cousin would live.
Éomer gave Firefoot into the care of a trusted stable hand and helped carry Théodred up the stairs into the Golden Hall and to his room. Once there, the healer and his assistant carefully eased his armor from him so they could access the damage.
He did his best to give them space, but once the wound was exposed and he saw now how bad the blow had been, Éomer balled his hands into fists, trying to hold himself together.
The healer worked quickly, covering Théodred's wound with a clean cloth. He instructed his young assistant on what supplies he would need, but as the man did not know where to find them, the healer had to go with him. He set a bowl of clean water down and instructed Éomer to sit and put a wet compress to his cousin's head. Already Théodred had a fever from his infected wound, and being out in the rain and traveling on a horse had not helped.
Éomer sat and did as he was told as the healer and his assistant departed the room, all the while biting the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't become overly emotional.
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Éowyn bade the King farewell, and went to her chambers. With a sigh, she sank on her bed and reached for her parchment - now her way of passing time. Words soon took shape, some confounding, some amusing, when suddenly her attention was called, and the familiar handwriting tugged at her heart.
Théodred hurt. Returning to EdorasFor a moment she could only stare at the words. Théodred was hurt? How? Where? She stood suddenly, the parchment falling to her feet, before hastily moving to her door. Healers must be summoned! Her cousin must be saved at all cost! And yet ( ... )
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When Edoras arose in the distance, a bright green hill against the mountains, he let out a breath of relief. They were almost there. Soon, his cousin would be healed.
Time passed quickly now. They were through the gates of the lower city. Now they were ascending the hill to Meduseld. The stables came into view and Éomer stopped Firefoot in front of them. He ordered a litter to carry Théodred inside to his chamber and, carefully dismounting, Éomer and his men gathered to help their prince down.
Reply
Éowyn did not bother to wait for the servant to tell her something she already knew. She rushed to the gates, wanting to see them as they entered, but one of the soldiers had told her that her brother's men had already entered the Golden Hall. Éowyn nodded and followed, knowing that they might have gone to Théodred's room.
She now wished, with all of her heart, that her cousin would live.
Reply
He did his best to give them space, but once the wound was exposed and he saw now how bad the blow had been, Éomer balled his hands into fists, trying to hold himself together.
The healer worked quickly, covering Théodred's wound with a clean cloth. He instructed his young assistant on what supplies he would need, but as the man did not know where to find them, the healer had to go with him. He set a bowl of clean water down and instructed Éomer to sit and put a wet compress to his cousin's head. Already Théodred had a fever from his infected wound, and being out in the rain and traveling on a horse had not helped.
Éomer sat and did as he was told as the healer and his assistant departed the room, all the while biting the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't become overly emotional.
Reply
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