In Meduseld the king paced the hall, his thoughts on his young nephew, he was much grieved that Eomer had disobeyed his orders and rather surprised. Eomer was much like his Father, Eomund, who had been a man of honour, a man whose word was his bond, who never failed in his duty to his king and country, who loved and was loved by his family, a man who had died in service to his King and was sorely missed by the people, his Eored and most of all by the son who had worshipped him. For this reason alone was Theoden sorely troubled by his nephews’ disregard and disrespect, it was just not characteristic of him.

A soft gasp behind made him turn round and he was suddenly confronted by a sobbing Eowyn. She had finished her lessons for the day and had soon picked up the gossip running throughout the hall. Her brother was missing, orcs were attacking by the Entwade, and she flew to her uncle, tears streaming down her face in her fears at the news.

He picked up his twelve year old niece, even though she was getting quite tall now. The king wrapped his strong arms around her as she wept in fear for her brother. After their parents deaths Eomer was her closest kin and she adored him, even when he teased her and would not let her follow him all the time when he was in practice with sword and spear. The king’s face softened as he tried in vain to soothe his niece. He loved her dearly, she reminded him so much of his beloved sister, and he had welcomed both of them into his house and cared as much for them as his own son.

“Worry not, my little lady,” he soothed, “ your brother will be soon back with us, safe and well.” Any wrath he had felt for Eomer’s truancy had gone temporarily in his desire to comfort his niece and put her mind at rest even though his thoughts were dark and troubled. The king sat with his niece for a long while trying not to imagine the worst that could have happened to her brother and having every faith in his sons   returning him safe back to Meduseld.  Eomer and the child he comforted in his arms were all he had left to remind him of his sweet Theodwyn, apart from fond memories of their younger days.

Watching, crouching and hidden within the shadows, Grima observed his King, a small smile on his face as he pondered the outcome of his plan. Yes, he knew the orcs would be massing today, he knew the younger of the House of Eorl would be abroad from Meduseld, vulnerable and without strong and tried protection. His Master had whispered to him many a time…”.be subtle…strike when you can…have eyes and ears everywhere and together we can plan for the future…YOUR future faithful Grima…you have only to name your prize….”

‘Yes’ Grima thought, ‘my prize’, he glowered watching a young Eowyn, beautiful even at that age, as she wept for the safe return of her brother.

            ******************************************************

Eomer scrambled to his feet as the orcs began to circle the youths. He grasped his short sword and cursed that he had not a broadsword with him, making a mental note that if he survived this encounter, he would never travel without it again. His friends had stayed with him, the orcs were too quick and stopped any chance of retreat. The horses whickered nervously as they smelt their foul stench and their novice riders had difficulty in controlling the nervous beasts. Eomer looked at his companions, they looked as terrified as he felt, slowly the orcs moved into their quarry,  ‘this would be an easy kill’ they thought.

Suddenly an orc bore down on Eomer, he was the nearest and as he was on foot deemed the most vulnerable. Eomer raised his sword to ward off the blows and then swung down with all his strength and the orc was slain. The others charged at the boys yelling and screaming and the others were knocked off their horses in the initial onslaught and started to fight for their lives, trying desperately to remember all their instructors and fathers had taught them about warfare and hand to hand combat. Even though they were grossly outnumbered the four Rohirric youths won their first battle at a young age. All the orcs perished at their hands but not without injuries. The three remaining horses ran off in panic from the scene of carnage. Eomer was uninjured but was trembling and shaking with shock in the aftermath of death and bloodshed he had caused. He turned his head, leant over and retched the contents of his stomach, his face a deathly white. He felt an arm around his shoulder, he glanced sideways to see Deowine looking at him with concern on his face.

“Are you well, Eomer?” he asked.

Eomer nodded, “Yes, my friend, worry not about me, I am uninjured, how do the others fare?”

He hastily scanned the area, bodies of orcs were everywhere and the stench of blood was sickening, Gordeph was lying unconscious and Eothum had a bad wound down his arm which bled profusely and it pained him to move it. Eomer sprang to Gordeph’s side and turned him over, an ugly mark on his head told him he had been knocked cold but other injuries than that it was hard to tell. Eothums arm was washed with the cold clear water from the Entwade and his arm was bound. He grimaced when being touched, sweat pouring from him as he clenched his teeth during the procedure. 

Eomer looked at his friends noticing how grey and ashen they appeared, not realizing he was also showing the same signs of distress, and the aftermath of battle was vivid in his eyes. His stomach was still in knots as his thoughts turned to how lucky they were to survive this first encounter with such deadly creatures.

Eomer glanced round warily as if half expecting a further onslaught but the enemy had all been slain.

His gaze fell on the body of Cramleof, his horse, and he sprang forward and knelt slowly beside the once magnificent creature. Eomer reached out a hand and tentatively touched Cramleofs’ beautiful coat and stroked the long shining mane, tears streaming down his face as he whispered farewell to his faithful steed.

A low moan made him turn around and look to his companions. They had kept a discreet distance whilst Eomer had said his farewells, each young Rohirrim knowing the anguish at losing a horse in such a way and only the groans of the now awakening Gordeph brought them all back to their present situation and dangerous predicament. Eomer and the others knelt by Gordeph’s side as he roused more from the unconscious state he had blissfully been in over the last hour.

 He struggled to sit up and assured his comrades that he had no other injury, only a knocking head. His brow was bathed and bound with a wet cloth whilst they debated their next move. Eomer felt the others eyes on him, waiting for his answer, waiting for him to help them and show the way home. He had never in his young life felt such a responsibility for the lives and safekeeping of others That they should in haste move from this place of battle was uppermost in their minds but Gordeph was not very mobile but he could now be supported at each side.

Eomer made the decision to start to walk back by the Entwade as close to water as they could and then turn towards Edoras in the hope that they would find their missing and panicked horses or ‘please Bema’ other help may be on the path to the city, merchants or farmers perhaps on business.

And so they made the slow departure from the scene of carnage, Eomer casting a last anguished look at his beloved Cramleof, they had not the time or wherewithal to make a decent burial and he was sorely troubled to leave him as carrion for any foul beast to discover. As they trudged along they kept up a merry banter to liven their spirits and hopefully make the journey home seem shorter.

         ******************************************************

Theodred and his Eored soon made quick work of inspecting the area for clues of the youngsters’ whereabouts and movements. A huge pyre was made of the orc bodies and a deep gave dug to receive the body of Cramleof to protect the once noble creature from foraging wild beasts. He met with his men to discuss their next plan.

“It would seem,” he stated, “That more than orc blood has been spilt here, but no other slain are in the immediate vicinity or surrounding area. Orcs could, of course, have bourn off with our younglings, but I do not think that the case. Our reports show no orc trails out of this glade and the only footprints out showed at least three different tracks.”

“What think you then, my Prince,” asked Deomund anxiously, fearing for the safety and welfare of his son. “Are we to hope and pray that our young ones are safe and making their way back to Edoras on foot, all safe and well. I deem?”

Theodred smiled, “I wouldst hope that they are all in the party, and not too badly injured, they carry at least one stricken, but as to his possible wounds we know not until they are apprehended and conveyed safely home. I speak also as one who is worried as to their fate, Eomer is as brother to me and I love him dearly.”

They quickly mounted and followed the tracks’ of the boys’ as they tried to make their vain way home.

The boys had walked for at least two hours following the path of the Entwade and were about to turn off the course of the river and make their way across the fields of Rohan to take the most direct route to the city. They would now trust to luck as cover was hard to find on the open plains of grass and they were very vulnerable on foot and with injured amongst them. Gordeph was struggling and his companions were coping to carry his semi-conscious body between them, he tried to walk independently as he feared he was impeding their progress, but the knock on the head was still causing problems for his health as he kept drifting off into a rambling stupor and the hearts of his comrades were low as to his condition. They had not gone too far from the river when their quick ears picked up the low thunder of hooves in the distance following them from down the trail they had traversed.

With hearts beating from fear they knew that to remain was the only option, they could not flee as Gordephs’ condition was too unstable and they would not leave a wounded companion behind. So they waited and hoped as the drumming noise got ever closer, looking at each other fearfully, and praying that it was one of the Eoreds’ returning home to the city. In the distance a cloud of dust was visible and the tips of spears caused their hearts to soar. Tips of spears with banners, white horse upon green, held in the strong and capable hands of the first Eored let by the crown prince, Theodred. The riders noticed the youths as they approached them and swiftly the boys were surrounded and found themselves ringed in by a circle of Rohirrim looking down upon them rather grimly.

Two riders rode forward and quickly dismounted, they were Eothred and Deomund who immediately went to their sons to check on the health and condition of their offspring, the prince signalling another to go to the aid of Gordeph. Both fathers much relieved to see their sons whole and almost well, Eothums arm being inspected by his concerned Papa, and then bound in a light sling as his father feared the arm was broken. Gordeph was lifted gently by an older veteran and once close fiend of his late father and taken on horseback and returned on a fast ride back to the city, to be tended by the more experienced healers and to relay to the King and others of the safety and imminent return of the missing boys.

Eomers’ heart was beating fast with relief and he longed to throw himself in joy at his cousin and feel Theodreds’ strong comforting arms around him, just as he used to do years before when Eomer woke in the night as he often did after the deaths of his parents. Theodred was nearly always there to comfort his cousin and dry his tears and reassure him that he was safe from harm within Meduseld. But he sensed that this was different and that Theodred was not coming to him to offer comfort, he wore a harsh and troubled look on his face as he rode up to his young cousin and glared down from the saddle into Eomers’ eyes.

“Well, cousin, what have you to say.” He barked.

“About what?” Eomer blinkingly replied, his mouth dry with fear not knowing what his cousin was about.

Theodred leapt down from his horse in anger at that reply and drew level with Eomer, Eomer backed away slightly in intimidation. “About What? ABOUT WHAT?” he shouted, not caring that he was berating Eomer in front of the whole Eored. “About your leaving the city without any knowing of your whereabouts. About almost getting yourself slain and risking the lives of others and putting the lives of others riders at risk while they searched for sign of you. Think you also of your sister, who is in much distress as to your safety.” Theodred paced about venting his anger and reining himself as to actually strike his cousin in his relief as to finding him safe and well.

Eomer was mortified as to the severe scolding, squirming in embarrassment, red faced in front of the Riders, known to many as was also his Father Eomund. His pride at his first kill had long gone and all that remained was to try to explain to his cousin as to his seeming unknown absence from Meduseld.

Theodred had stopped his tirade and was glowering at his young cousin, his relief at finding him safe and well outweighing the anger of not knowing as to the whereabouts of Eomer that day.

“Please hear me cousin,” he begged, “I am sorry for causing any to wonder or worry as to my plans for the day, but I didst relate them to Grima before I left on the trip with my friends, he knew as to my jaunt to the Entwade and he was to tell Theoden King as to my location. I would never not relate as to my whereabouts after what happened last time, although why Grima didst not tell the King I know not, please believe me cousin. I speak truth in this.” Eomer looked desperately into his cousins eyes, in which his own were filling with tears and

 a few were starting to spill over.

Theodred knew his cousin to be speaking the truth, Eomer had never told a lie. The men of the Mark do not lie and his cousin was a true Eorlinga. He threw his arms around his young cousin and embraced him heartily as his tears fell also with relief at finding Eomer unharmed

 “I believe you Eomer,” he whispered, “Although my Father will probably scold you more, I know he will believe you also, but as to why Grima said not a word we shall have to find out about upon returning to Meduseld.

Soon the riders had the youngsters upon their horses with them are were soon riding through the gates of Edoras, Theodred and Eomer walking together up to Meduseld to see the king and Eomer quaked not a little bit at the thought.

Before he was granted audience with his uncle Eomer was assaulted by a sobbing Eowyn who threw her arms around her brother and clung to him weeping tears of relief. Eomer was a little surprised as to the vehement outburst of emotion for him but he reciprocated and hugged her back fiercely.

His meeting with his uncle was soon upon him and he walked up through the great hall to the throne where sat Theoden King of the Riddermark

“Hail Theoden King,” Eomer spoke nervously and bowed in honour to his uncle.

Theoden smiled grimly at his young nephew, much relieved by his safe return back home and he had been apprised as to his excuses by Theodred although the king was not going to let Eomer know that.

“Explain,” he asked.

“Lord, hear me,” answered Eomer flustered and nervous, feeling the eyes of the King and all his councillors upon him. “I did relate my plans to someone ere I left the city, I would never leave without your knowance my king,” he tried to explain.

“To whom did you relate this news?”

“To Grima, Majesty.”

“Grima,” barked the king again, “Explain.”

Grima sidled to the front of the throne, bowing to Theoden and glancing sideways at Eomer. “My lord,” he started, “Yes I did see young Lord Eomer this morn, he garbled some un- intelligible nonsense to me and ran off but I heard naught of his plans for leaving Edoras this day.”

“That is a lie,” shouted Eomer angrily.

“How dare you talk thus to a councillor, youngling,” hissed Grima, scowling at Eomer with hatred, “You forget your place and to whom you speak.”

“Peace, Grima, peace nephew,” growled the king.

Both antagonists stopped their tirade and Eomer glowered back at the counciller, he started as he felt a strong hand on his shoulder and on glancing back saw it was Theodred, standing behind him, the pressure telling him to calm and clear his mind.

“It would seem,” Grima went on, glowering at the young lord, “That if the son of Eomund wouldst have spoken yet clearly this morn, all would have been apprised as to his day.”

“But,I …”went on Eomer.

“This is over now,” continued Theoden, “Eomer, sister-son you will make sure this happens not again.”

“But, my king…”began Eomer. The hand on his shoulder gripped harder, and he heard a ‘sshh’ from his cousin. Eomer lowered his head in defeat, and fidgeted and shuffled with anxiety.

“I think a hot bath, meal and a change of clothes wouldst suffice for now, nephew,” smiled the king down to Eomer. “We will discuss your punishment later, now to your chambers.”

Eomer bowed, “Yes my King, “ he replied sulkily turning to leave the room but not without a last sneaking frown at Grima.

“Ah, Majesty,” sneered Grima to the King, “The folly and rashness of youth, I wouldst the young noble learns from this for his own safety in the future.”

“What mean you by that?” inquired Theodred, “Would you see harm come to my young cousin.”

“The prince misunderstands my words,” Grima replied nervously, “I wish no harm to any here, I just feel he is…shall we say…rather hasty and not just a little volatile, much like his late Father in that respect, thinking to strike first no matter what.”

“He is a true Eorlinga, Grima,” growled Theodred, “That is something you should not forget.”

“Peace, peace,” shouted the King, “I will hear no more today.” He rose and stormed out of the great hall.

After doing all that was required of him by his uncle, Eomer lay scowling on his bed when a soft knock at his door disturbed his thoughts, he rose and upon opening it was surprised to see the King himself, “May I enter, sister-son.” He inquired .

“Of course, my lord, please,” replied Eomer backing into his room allowing the King to settle on a chair by the fire. A long uncomfortable silence hung in the air, Eomer squirmed nervously waiting for what he knew not might happen to him.

At last Theoden spoke, “Eomer, you are young yet but in not a few years from now you will be leading an Eored, you will be a Marshal and fight for your people, your land and your King.”

“Yes uncle, just like Papa did.”

The king smiled softly, “Yes, just like your Papa,” he went on, “And you will have to deal with your men fairly and see to their well being. Your men will be like kin to you, and as a Marshal is to be almost like Father to them. Learn your lesson now, nephew. I know that you lie not but your tidings to relate your whereabouts could have been given better, and with more decorum could they not? As a Marshal you wilt have to relay many messages and battle strategies to the correct quarters and in a tone to be understood by the recipients, do you understand what I am saying?

“I think so, Uncle,” Eomer answered, “I must take care to relay any news without mistakes, so the correct party is aware. But…”

“But what?”

“But, my king, I did relay my news to Grima, I did tell him, I…

“Yes, I hear you,” replied the king, “But I think that Grima would not lie, he is a councillor and friend, so think on my words.” With that the king leaned over and embraced Eomer. “Thank Bema you were not harmed.” He whispered and then rose to leave the room. Before he left he looked back at his nephew, “From what Theodred tells me, you fought well, not many could say that after their first taste of battle and blood-letting….I am proud of you, the blood of Eorl runs strong in your veins it would seem.”

The king bade his sullen nephew a good night and left his bedchamber, but before Eomer closed his door a sudden movement caused him to look out again into the dim corridor, a figure appeared out of a shadowy corner and walked slowly past, pausing only to make an almost obsequious bow towards him before following the king at a distance.

The door closed and Eomer readied himself for bed, though sleep was long in coming as he lay abed, his thoughts were dark and troubled, his mind in turmoil and when sleep finally overtook him his dreams were dark and the sneering face of Grima haunted them.

The End.