The lady Theodwyn woke in the early hours, her back ached and she had not slept much all that night. She was heavy with child and was near her time, the midwife had warned her that second babes do not always reach full term and that this birth could be quicker. She thought back, with a grim smile, to her first born, Eomer, now a happy, delightful and oft times mischievous child of almost four summers. Theodwyn had gone through a long, painful fourteen hour birthing to deliver that particular little package, she thought glumly, wondering why she had found herself in a similar position again. If she had not loved her husband Eomund so much she would have banished him from their marriage bed, and hang the consequences….but, another babe would be lovely, a brother or sister for Eomer to play with.

She rose slowly out of bed, trying not to disturb Eomund sleeping next her, the ache in her back growing and making her gasp slightly. She carefully moved his arm, which was draped over her waist and sat up, reaching for her over- robe. She stood up and a fierce dragging pain tore through her lower back and thighs, Theodwyn leant forward a little breathing heavy and panting, awaiting for it to subside when her waters broke with a gush and she cried out with dismay waking her husband.

Eomund, immediately concerned, wrapped his arms around his beloved wife, “Is it the babe, my love? Do you need the midwife?”

Theodwyn leant back into his gentle embrace and sighed, “Yes, husband mine, I think today will be a long one for both of us.” She smiled up into Eomund’s anxious face and lightly kissed him, “Just look at this mess.” She sighed ruefully.

“No matter,” Eomund chuckled, kissing his wife back lovingly, “It will soon be cleared away, now, who first, midwife, ladies, maids, nurse-maid?” He rose and hastily dressed as he watched his wife.

“I think, “ she laughingly replied, “to awaken Hertha, and she will direct the others.”

Eomund left the bedchamber and called for the watch to summon Hertha, his wife’s personal lady, and then returned to Theodwyn’s side. Soon the whole household was awake, Hertha had sent into the town for the village midwife, the fires had been lit and the large house of the Chief Marshal was brimming with life. All were awake that early dawn, save one, in his bedchamber next to their own, fast asleep, lay their firstborn, Eomer, totally oblivious to the events that were about to happen that day.

A fast rider was sent to Edoras with a message to Theoden King to relay the news that his sister was to birth that day, many of Eomunds Eored were assembling in the large hall of his house to drink with the Marshal and while away the long hours, the ladies were in attendance with the princess.

In the middle of all this noise and confusion, a small blonde head peeped round the door into the hall, bright blue eyes watching all the coming and going, the riders laughing and drinking, the women running to and from his Mama and Papa’s bedchamber.

“My lord Eomund,” laughed Captain Thormund, “We are discovered.”

Eomund turned around to see what his captain was looking at when he also noticed his four-year old son hiding by the door shyly, rubbing his sleepy eyes blearily. Eomund walked over and scooped his son into the arms and embraced him.

“Where is Mama?” Eomer asked, worridly, “Lady Hertha would not let me see her, is she sick?” his eyes misted a little and his voice shook with fear.

“No, my son,” Eomund replied softly, “Mama is not sick, but methinks today will bring a brother or sister for you Eomer, how would you like that?”

“I would rather have a pony,” answered Eomer to the mirth and amusement of all there.

“A true son of Rohan, my Lord,” shouted Bredder, one of his Eored, “You indeed named your son well, methinks.”

Eomund laughed along with his men before he handed Eomer into the arms of one of the maids, but not before he had whispered to his son, “Fear not, Mama will be well, you will see her soon, my son. Now go and play.”

Eomer was taken up to his bedchamber, washed and dressed and taken to the house of a neighbour to play with their children while the house of Eomund was astir with its business.

It was a long morning in the house, Eomund paced the hall at times, his men trying at times to pacify him and sympathise with him for his anxiety, though the married ones had all gone through similar experiences, the bond of fellowship and friendship was very strong within the Eoreds. The sun was well past midday ere lady Theodwyn was safely delivered and the midwife came to the hall to call the Marshal into his bedchamber. He tiptoed in and found his beloved wife looking exhausted but to his eyes absolutely enchanting.

He sat next her on the bed and she placed a wrapped bundle in his arms, “You have a daughter, husband mine.” She whispered, looking deeply into his eyes.

”A daughter?” Eomund answered softly, looking down at the tiny babe within his arms. Theodwyn leant over and unwrapped their child a little so that Eomund could see his daughter’s sweet face, he kissed his wife tenderly and then kissed his tiny new child, “Hello Eowyn,” he spoke gently, “I am your Papa.”

They remained thus for a while until he could see that his wife was ready to drift off into a well earned rest. The midwife, who had been standing outside the door, came bustling in, and giving Eomund a clear message that he should be leaving.

Before he left the room Theodwyn asked in a very tired voice, “Where is Eomer? Where is our son?”

“He is playing at the house of Serthmund, having woken early and was not a bit worried about his Mama.” Eomund answered softly, “Have a sleep, beloved, and I will send and have him brought to you so he can meet his new sister.”

He kissed his wife softly again and turned to leave the room. The midwife had already placed Eowyn into the cradle next to the bed, the same one that Eomer had slept in as a babe. Before he left the chamber he looked back at his wife and new child, both were fast asleep from their exhausting journey.

He arrived in the hall of his house and all eyes were on him, “A daughter,” Eomund shouted to the massed hall, his eyes sparkled with pride and joy. A raucous cheer echoed through the house to the consternation of the midwife, but so tired were her charges that neither stirred even though many songs and cheers of good wishes for the child were made that day.

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Eomer had had a good mornings play, he had eaten well, he had climbed trees, run around with his friends and for the last two hours had been playing in the stream trying to dam the flow of water as have all children thus at play. As a result he was very grubby and covered with mud to his great glee.

He looked up when he heard Lady Wythyn, wife to Lord Serthmund, calling his name, she froze when she looked upon the son of the Chief Marshal standing dripping in front of her. At her side a new servant to the house of Eomund dispatched to return Eomer to his home. They both looked down in dismay at this sorry sight before them.

“I…..” started Lady Wythyn, who was about to suggest a bath and clean clothes for Eomer afore he left her house but the new servant, Sathwyn, just clicked her tongue and grabbed his hand and pulled Eomer mercilessly, scolding as she went along, almost pulling his little arm from its socket in her haste.

“What your Father will say, young pup, when he sees you, I know not!” she muttered, “Today of all days you get into this state!” she went on, stopping suddenly to shake the child, “I expect your Papa to take a strap to you for this mischief.” She glowered down at Eomer and then began pulling him along at a tremendous pace. Eomer’s eyes filled with fear at this thought, and slowly a tear or two began to fall down his face. His Papa had never struck him although he knew him to be of a fiery temper, it had never been rained down upon his son. He then began to sob and whimper not a little in trepidation at the expected punishment he was about to receive.

Eventually Sathwyn arrived back at the home of the Marshal and they entered Eomer’s room, she was still berating him harshly and began to roughly pull his clothes off in preperation for a bath, when a sudden sound caused her to turn round.

There, in the doorway of his son’s bedchamber stood Eomund, an angry look on his face, Eomer paled and started trembling, waiting for the expected blow to come but instead Eomund just walked between his son and the servant and spoke quietly, “You are dismissed this day, I will see to bathing my son.” Sathwyn bobbed a quick curtsy and left the room, leaving Eomer looking up at his Papa with terror in his eyes. Eomund smiled and bent down to pick his child up, feeling his heart fluttering like a frightened bird, “Now, my son, what have you been about this day?” he asked, walking into the next room where a bath of warm water was waiting.

Eomer was placed into the bath and gently bathed clean of the grime that was smeared over his skin as was the dried mud which was plastered in tangles into his blonde mane. All the fear had gone with his Papa’s ministrations and hearing his deep voice speaking only words of love and reassurance into his ears.

When Eomer was dried and dressed in clean tunic and leggings, his Papa knelt before him and spoke in a low voice.

“Eomer, my son,” he intoned in that beloved voice, “Mama and I have a surprise for you.”

Eomer jumped and hopped eagerly, pulling his Papa forward, both of his small hands tugging at one of the Marshals large calloused ones as he tried to rush him into their large bedchamber.

“Quickly, quickly, Papa.” Eomer sang out, in joyful anticipation. “Have I got a brother or sister?” he went on, as Eomund chuckled at the impatience of his son.

“Wait and see, my son,” Eomund answered and bent to pick his excited son up before entering the chamber, lest Eomer leap and jump onto the bed as was his want to do.

Lady Theodwyn was rested after a sleep and looked to the door and smiled to see her husband and son enter. Eomer looked at his Mama with awe and frowned a little. His Mama never lay in bed, only ‘sick people’ lay in bed, his childish mind thought.

Eomund placed Eomer onto the bed and he was enveloped into the warm embrace and loving arms of his Mama as he wrapped his arms around her neck whilst she kissed his forehead and cheeks gently, whispering endearments, rocking him and caressing his small form with affection.

“Mama are you sick?” he whispered.

“No, my own, I am just resting from a small battle to bring a new babe into this world.” His mother answered, laughing softly.

“Eomer,” he heard his Papa’s voice and looked round to see him sitting next to his Mama with a small wrapped bundle. The bundle was gently passed to his Mama who pulled the blanket down so that Eomer could see the tiny face within.

“Eomer, this is your sister, Eowyn,” his Mama’s voice whispered into his ear as he gazed on his sister’s face with utter enchantment, not noticing the look of amusement between Eomund and Theodwyn.

Eomer cuddled close to his Mama and tentatively reached out a hand and stroked his sister’s cheek softly, whispering, “Hello Eowyn, I am your brother.”

He looked up as his Papa spoke, “Eomer, my son, you will help to protect Eowyn, it is your duty as a brother and a true born son of Eorl.”

“Yes, Papa,” Eomer replied dutifully, although he did not fully understand the implications behind his solemn vow to his father, but he would obey that beloved man what ever he asked him to do.

Theodwyn held both her babes and nuzzled them gently whilst Eomund wrapped his arms protectively around his young family as he gently kissed his wife, feeling her relax into his love and protection, raising her own lips to return the kiss.

TBC