Acceptance.

Chapter Five.

The Golden Hall was full. Near all the noble born of Rohan were gathered in anticipation. Many eyes kept glancing to the far end of the halls, past the two thrones that sat side by side upon the dais. The larger one carved with the likeness of a stallion in full charge, the smaller one, commissioned by the king for his Dol Amrothian bride, carved with a pastoral scene showing horses grazing, foals being suckled and two swans swimming in the river behind.

When the King and Queen stepped out into the hall and all turned towards them. Elfhelm and Erkenbrand strode forward first as rank dictated, and made their reverences.

Eomer acknowledged the allegiance shown by his two most loyal warriors. Although both were older, they had accepted him as the king unconditionally, and would defend him and his family without hesitation. The king nodded his head to the throng of people that had been waiting patiently for his arrival as Aescwyn entered behind the royal couple holding his son in her arms. Eomer smiled as the babe was passed to his mother and Elfwine crowed with glee.

And so they began the procession, which would take them through Edoras to the gates. As they left the huge doors of Meduseld the Royal Guard stood in honour. It was their duty to flank the royal party as they walked down through the streets.

The captain of the guard was Eothain, one of Eomer’s oldest and closest friends. Of all the men of the Mark it was the captain that the king felt closest to and the memories they shared went deep.

Lothiriel was fond of her husband’s boyhood friend and his wife. Ealhwyn was one of her ladies. She had helped the queen, in the difficult early days of her marriage, when she had been struggling with the language and learning the customs. And now, once more, she and her husband would be at her side. The thought calmed Lothiriel’s fluttering nerves.

The sun was lowering in the sky as the procession departed the halls. It seemed to the royal couple that the entire population of Edoras had lined the route. Many were the shouts and cheers to the king. Flowers were handed to the queen and gifts were bestowed on the prince. Eomer was much overcome with this show of affection, love and loyalty from his people. Lothiriel reached over to grasp and squeeze his hand and gave her husband a long and tender look.

The gates of Edoras were opened as the party reached them. The Royal guard led the way, as was custom. There they would stand as protectors for their liege lord during the rites.

The white mountains towered in the distance, snow capped and awe inspiring. The sun dipped lower as Eomer stopped and watched the horizon in front of him.

Arlo emerged from the crowd bearing a salver with an ancient and much loved heirloom lying upon it. It was the great horn of Eorl himself. The people gasped to see such a treasure from their heritage. It was only used now upon this day, the day of recognition, and was usually kept in a secure place within the halls.

The steward walked round to stand in front of his king and bowed. He raised the tray high and Eomer held his breath as he reached out to gently touch the ancient item,  that was once held in the mighty hand of one of their well loved kings. He picked it up in his hands and held it with reverence.

The queen was much moved by the instant tears she saw that formed in the eyes of her husband while he held that beloved relic. ’How he loves this land’ she mused, ‘How he loves and is loved by all.’

Eomer walked forward a few steps and turned to face the population of Edoras. His people. Gathered from all corners of the Mark. Come to honour him this day.  To honour his heir. He held aloft the great horn of Eorl so that every eye beheld it, and every heart was glad of the sight.

Then he spoke in a clear voice, “Eorlingas, my people. Hear now the summons. Hear now the sound that drew our kinsmen from the north. Down to the field of Celebrant and so to the lands that are now our own. Our home. Our land. We are one with it and one with our destiny and our inheritance.”

No voice stirred and even the very wind held its breath as Eomer raised the mouthpiece to his lips and gave a mighty blow. Loud and clear did the dulcet tones ring forth and every heart stirred with the clarity that came from that ancient artefact.

The neighing of horses was dimly heard. The riders’ own mighty steeds had heard also and shook the very walls of their stables in an attempt to reply to the call.

The only horse present was Firefoot. He stamped his feet and shook his head, wanting nothing more than to carry his master away to battle and to fight for his land and freedom.

Three times did Eomer wind that horn and all were stirred by the music that came from within.

Then a woman of ancient years stepped forward. Old Beorhtaru was the matriarch of her family and the oldest woman in Rohan. She was 101 years old and her memory was still bright and clear. Beorhatu was supported on either side by her grandsons, her own much loved son long slain in battle. She bowed to her king and he in turn bowed back in respect of her years. In her arms she bore a gift from the city, a gift for the prince.

Eomer accepted the heavy and exquisitely woven blanket. It had been long upon the looms of the weavers and had only just been finished, ready to receive and give succour to the prince.

The Queen approached Beorhtaru, bent down and kissed her lined face. The old woman smiled and passed her hoary hand over the queen’s black locks and those of the babe. Cultures and age differences were between the two women, but the bond of motherhood called strong and true.

The good woman, with minimal assistance from her kin, spread the blanket onto the green and fertile grass of Rohan, and bent down to kiss the sod. Struggle she did to raise herself but the men before her, including the king, hesitated seeing the glint of pride in her eye. Old she may be but she would not seek aide.

Eomer bowed before her again and kissed her hand gallantly. ‘This woman, one of many,’ he mused, ‘Bear the lifeblood of the mark.’

The woman walked back into the throng and Eomer held out his arms to receive his son. Lothiriel gulped a little, as the time drew near, but the love and trust she felt for her husband filled her with joy.

She gently kissed Elfwine on the forehead, and passed him into the arms of his sire. Their eyes met for an instant, and Lothiriel felt calm descend upon her by the love she read within. The king walked forward to the coverlet and lay the child within its warmth and comfort. He retraced his steps and blew another longer and strident note upon the horn of Eorl.

The mass of people were silent, and it was as if time itself stood still. Eomer felt each and every beat of his heart, until he heard the distant drone that neared and grew louder with each hoof-beat.

He reached out and felt the small hand of his wife clutch his. Together they stood, waiting to receive the homage and acceptance of their son.

The thunder of hooves grew in abundance as the Mearas neared the gates. Though few they were now, still a small herd grazed deep within the grasslands of the Riddermark, keeping only to their own needs and meeting with their keepers whenever need arose. The summons sounded though none had ever heard its call, but blood called and the sound of Eorl and Felarof drew the herd.

“Eomer….” Lothiriel gasped as the sight of the mighty equine forms came closer to the city.

“Fear not, sweetling,” answered the king, “Today you will be witness to a sight rarely seen. Our son will be as safe as if he were in a crib of mithril. For these are the Mearas, kings of horses, and all too few now are left to roam this land.”

At the head of that mighty clan galloped Stormshadow, the chief of the Mearas and half-brother to Shadowfax the renowned.

Stormshadow it was who ruled supreme within their ranks and his blood- line ran from Felarof himself.

Suddenly the herd stopped as if by an unheard call and the air was full of snorts and puffs as the great beasts waited patiently.

Eomer stepped forward and the immense grey form of Stormshadow walked to meet his king.

A ripple of approval ran round the crowd as the Mearas stallion lowered his head. Eomer reached out a hand and patted the huge neck with its long white mane brushing over his shoulder. Two large liquid eyes met the king’s deep gaze and the bonding of old was recognized and realized.

Eomer turned to face the populace and spoke with a clear voice, “We welcome you, Great one.” He bowed in turn to the horse, “We give thanks to you and your kin for heeding the call. For your loyal friendship and fellowship over the years we acknowledge and give our undying love.”

Stormshadow reared on his hind legs and neighed as if in answer to his king.

“Greet now my heir, accept in him the future of my house. The blood of Eorl runs true in the veins of this babe, aye, and of Eofar from the house of mine own sire, Eomund of Eastfold. Give him that lies before you respect and honour and it will be returned to you and yours tenfold.”

The King then stepped to one side while the chief tossed his head and moved sideways to approach the prince.

Lothiriel felt her heart beat faster as the stallion walked with slow and sure steps to the ceremonial blanket which contained her life.

Elfwine had lain totally oblivious to all the proceedings, gurgling his usual happy sounds and biting his fists.

Stormshadow edged closer to the strange foal and looked long and hard at him. He lowered his head and sniffed deep of his scent. The bond of heritage lay before his giant hooves. This was the young of his master, and in him lay the future of Rohan. A future that contained both man and horse. As it had always been. As it would always be.

Lothiriel held back a cry as Stormshadow moved forwards to step with a gentle movement over her son and turned round. He then bent forward on his knees and lowered his body to the ground and nestled by the side of his prince.

Eomer stood entranced, beaming with pride as he beheld the honour given to his son by the chief.

He walked forward to claim back his child but the stallion rushed to his feet and stood side on to bar the way of the approaching man.

At Eomer’s heels Firefoot tried to follow his master, desperate to protect him from this rival stallion.

Eomer smiled to himself and stopped instantly in his tracks. The rites had been fulfilled. He whispered a command to his loyal steed and Firefoot obeyed in an instant, although he tossed his mane in slight reproof.

Stormshadow was now bound to protect Eomer’s heir and stood in defiance of the king. The man-child that lay at his feet would now be held in esteem and honour by the herd and under their protection for life.

“I thank thee for the acceptance, great one,” Eomer called out to the horse, “Until you meet again, all care and love will be shown.”

He beckoned his wife forward as Stormshadow still barred the way between the king and his son.

Lothiriel walked forward with a shaky step as the chief tossed his head impatiently at the possible threat to his new charge. He danced a few steps, his hooves thudding on the grass with each movement. A sudden cry caused the huge beast to turn back to the prince. Elfwine had been happy ‘til now. Suddenly he felt alone and began to fret for the attention of his mother. He badly needed comfort.

The Queen moved forward under her own volition, instinct telling her that this immense stallion would not harm her or her son.

Stormshadow pranced a little more, sensing this woman’s bond with the youngling. He moved to one side allowing Lothiriel to stoop down to pick her child up to give him love and reassurance. She crooned to her babe, by the side of the Mearas and worried not by of the close presence of the chieftain. Her babe was safe and she felt anew the honour done him this day.’ If only I had had this trust in the beginning’, she mused, ‘then my misgivings would never have caused issue over this’.

And together stood they and watched  the child being comforted by his mother, Eomer and Stormshadow, each a ruler in his own right. Bonded for life. For as long as Rohan bore a king from the line of Eorl, so would the Mearas recognize such and together were the Riddermark and its future strong. For without one there would not be the other. They were one.

“From the line of my fore-fathers, I give thee thanks, great chieftain,” called out Eomer in a loud voice, “If ever need rises we will be as one, for as we live together so we will fight together to protect and defend this land of ours.” The king then bowed to the Mearas, and in return Stormshadow walked forward to allow the man to stroke his mighty flanks and caress him.

Then a neighing from the herd beckoned to the chief and with great reluctance he started back a few times and dashed forward again to check the little one’s safety. When he was satisfied that all would be well with the babe he left him in the protection of his parents, and galloped back to join the herd as they whinnied a welcome.

And so as the sun set behind the White Mountains the herd returned to their grazing meadows, hidden within the deeps of the mark. But ever would Stormshadow return to seek his prince, for they were now bonded together and one day an issue of his seed would carry the princeling warrior as he rode into battle to defend his kin.

And so would Elfwine, when he reached the age of maturity, see to the needs of the Mearas and protect them. And now that peace had settled upon the lands, the line of the kings’ horses would slowly increase in number and under the auspices of the crown, its blood line would never die.

                        OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“And so my queen,”whispered Eomer, as he held her close in his arms, “was not this day most splendid?” He covered her neck with small insistent kisses, as Lothiriel squirmed with delight.

“Indeed, my king,” she whimpered, “I feel today has seen my acceptance too…”

Eomer stopped his ministrations suddenly, and frowned a little, “What mean you by that,” he asked, looking into the flushed face of his wife.

Lothiriel answered with a shaky voice, as her body had reacted with intensity to her husband’s caresses now that all anxiety had dissipated.

“I mean, husband mine,” she continued as she reached her hands up to stroke Eomer’s chest, “Today, I feel my heart is forever here in Rohan. My old life is in the past, but now…I am complete and this day has shown me that. I will be forever part of the country with all its heritage and traditions…and with you,” she finished, smiling and reaching out to draw her husband down.

“Then this has been a good day,” murmured Eomer, as he caressed his wife anew, “And methinks the night will be also.” Lothiriel giggled at his reply. Then the only sounds were small moans and gasps of pleasure. No more words were needed.

The End.

A/N. MANY THANKS TO HELENA, FOR HER ASSISTANCE AND PATIENCE. YOU ROCK. EOKAT.