To The King

Chapter Four

Courage is Found in Unlikely Places (Gildor Inglorion)

Bravery is the capacity to perform properly even when scared half to death.--General Omar Bradley

The company halted just outside the tremendous gates that opened from the city on the first level. The original gates that had been ornately carved and centuries old had been battered down by Grond, the battering ram employed by the hordes of Mordor in the attack on Minas Tirith. These gates were strongly made, if not as beautiful as the originals, and would secure the city until such time as permanent ones could be made. For now the craftsmen of the city were feverishly working, with the aid of the dwarves, to rebuild the battered homes and businesses. The King rode to the head of the column and halted facing Éomer. Arwen, Faramir, and Éowyn stopped just outside the gates. Elessar saluted King Éomer with the traditional Elven salute of putting the right hand over the heart and lowering his head.

“Men of Rohan, as King of Gondor I pay tribute to Théoden King and to your fallen comrades, riders of the Mark, who answered our call for aid and helped to turn the tide against the evil forces which attacked us and threatened to cast all of Middle Earth into the darkness of evil. So long as there is a Gondor, the name Théoden shall be synonymous with courage and honor. Wherever men tell tales to their sons and mothers to daughters, this sacrifice shall be repeated and respected, bearing witness to your courage. I bid you, go, men of Rohan, take your King home to rest with his ancestors, but know that you go with the thanks and respect of all Gondor and of her King.”

Aragorn nodded to Faramir who signaled the trumpeters on the top of the wall and a clear, ringing tribute rang forth across the plain followed by the clamor of many voices lifted in cheer. It began on the lowest level of the city and slowly spread upwards until the sound filled the air as a continuous roar. All who heard it felt a chill of awe touch their spines and would never forget this remarkable tribute.

“Henceforth,” Elessar continued once the noise had died down, “the trumpets shall signal the arrival of the King of Rohan to the city of Minas Tirith. It shall ever be known as the Théoden call, and the people of the city shall, from this day forward, turn out to greet and honor the one who enters under this herald.”

Éomer was deeply moved by this great honor bestowed upon him and therefore Rohan, and for the tribute to his uncle, for until this time the heralds had only been used for the ruling houses of Gondor. He nudged Firefoot and rode forward to grasp elbows with Elessar in the timeless tribute of one soldier to another.

Aragorn smiled at Éomer and squeezed his elbow. “I wish that I could accompany you home, my friend, but the need here is still too great.”

“I would not take you from your city at such a time,” responded Éomer, “for there is much yet to be done.” Then he added ruefully, “for both of us”.

“May your journey be safe and uneventful,” Aragorn said in blessing to the group. To Éomer he quietly added with a smile, “and look after my Steward, for I have great need of him.”

Éomer returned the smile and glanced sideways at his sister. “Indeed, and I would be most at risk from Éowyn should I not take watch over him.”

Aragorn chuckled and started to turn Brego to the side, but Éomer’s tightened grip on his elbow halted him. He turned back to his friend and was surprised at the seriousness of his face, which was saying much because Éomer was known for his severe countenance.

“Aragorn, before I take my leave, I would thank you once more for the healing you bestowed upon my sister. Her life was the greatest gift I have ever received. I shall forever be in your debt for that, and it is not a debt I take lightly.”

Aragorn did not know how to respond for a moment. “I have wished joy for Éowyn since I first met her, and seeing the happiness she and Faramir bring each other is a delight to my heart. Through Cirion and Eorl the Young our countries were tied by oath and treaty. Through Faramir and Éowyn our countries are be bound by love and family. That is all the thanks that I require.”

Aragorn rode over to Faramir and repeated the warrior’s gesture with his Steward. “Came back safely to us, Faramir; your country and your king need you.”

Faramir graced his King with such a look of adoration and admiration that no words were necessary. With a silent squeeze to his friend’s elbow he took his leave as the column began its slow journey home.

Aragorn remained watching until the column was small to his sight, and only then did he turn Brego and begin his journey back through the levels of his city. So deep in thought was he that he barely noticed the nods and gestures of salute gifted him by his people.

OoOoOoOoOo

The weather was perfect as Éomer’s column began turning towards home. With each mile they covered, Éomer felt the invisible band of tension that seemed wound around his chest loosen. How stifled he had felt inside the city! As he rode, the warrior’s eyes constantly scanned the horizon seeking any sign of ambush. Even now, after the war, there were still threats that Éomer could not ignore.

They had been riding for approximately three hours when Éomer looked back over his shoulder for his lieutenant. “Gamling,” he called. Turning back to the front, he found himself squinting into the brilliant sunlight as he waited. He had been thinking long and hard about this problem and felt that now was the time to broach the subject with his trusted advisor.

Gamling pulled his chestnut mare from the column and loped forward to fall into formation beside his king. In truth he had been expecting this summons for some time. He had known that something was troubling his King by the set of his shoulders and had been patiently waiting for Éomer to share his thoughts.

Éomer glanced at Gamling as the two rode side by side. “When we reach Edoras, send a detachment to Snowbourne. Have them escort Garoth back to the Meduseld with all haste.”

At Gamling’s questioning look the king continued. “He is not under arrest…yet, but I will know why none of the riders of Snowbourne answered their king’s call to arms.”

Gamling nodded and continued riding beside the king. He had, of course, puzzled over this himself and known that Éomer would be infuriated by the apparent lack of response to Théoden King’s call for the éoreds. The beacons had been lit and Rohan was duty bound to answer. A breach of honor that serious could not and would not be overlooked by Éomer.

“Gamling,” Éomer continued, “you did speak directly with Garoth to deliver the king’s summons, did you not?”

“Yes, my lord, I did,” Gamling affirmed, “but I did not linger to hear any answer as I was in great haste to cover the Riddermark and meet the king at Dunharrow.”

“No answer was required, “ growled Éomer, “only obedience.” His scowl deepened as he continued to think about the possible reasons that Garoth would have withheld his éored. None of it made any sense to him. How could a Marshal of the Mark not answer his king’s call? It was inconceivable to Éomer.

“Of course, my lord,” agreed Gamling, “but perhaps…”

When Gamling hesitated the king turned to look at his friend and lieutenant. “What, Gamling, just say it. We have known each other too long for words to be held between us now.”

Gamling looked down at the pommel of his horse, ashamed of what he was about to suggest. “I was going to say that perhaps they were afraid to come,” he offered weakly.

“Afraid?” snorted Éomer. His outburst was delivered with such vehemence that several of the troop behind him looked up sharply and Firefoot danced sideways in agitation. Éomer soothed the horse and allowed his temper to cool slightly before continuing. For now, this conversation was between he and Gamling and he would not have his éored drawn into the discussion until he had ascertained all the facts.

Gamling wisely kept his silence and just continued to ride beside the king.

When he had controlled himself sufficiently to carry on the conversation in a softer tone, Éomer continued. “Did you not feel some fear? Did I not?” He shook his head disgustedly. “Did my sister feel fear when she stood between the Nazgûl and her King? Do you think that the Halfling Merry did not feel fear? Did it stop him from riding by his king’s side…form defying his king to ride by his side?”

Gamling could only nod his head in agreement as he wisely let his king vent his pent up feelings.

Éomer concentrated on taking deep breaths for a few moments while he flexed his fists. More than anything he wished that his uncle were here to advise him on how to handle this situation. How could it have come to the point that he was king? It should have been Théodred, not him. Théo was groomed to be king; would have been a natural king. For the hundredth time Éomer prayed to his uncle’s shade for guidance. Firefoot was becoming more difficult to handle as he reacted to the tension emanating from Éomer, so the king forced himself to take another deep breath and calm down before his mount became any more difficult. He wasn’t in the mood the have to do battle with his recalcitrant horse on top of everything else. The discussion of fear touched a chord in Éomer’s memory and he followed that thought to a remembrance that he kept treasured in his heart.

It was the night they had ridden so hard practicing cavalry warfare; the night he had declared his oath of loyalty to his uncle and his King.

For some time after his declaration, the two had enjoyed a comfortable peace, each lost in his own thoughts with only the sound of the crackling fire to break the utter silence with its soft song.

“Uncle,” Éomer began slowly, “have you ever been afraid?”

“Afraid?” Théoden questioned. “Afraid,” he mused. “I suppose all of us have been afraid at some time or other. It’s not the being afraid that matters, though, it is what you do with it. Why do you ask?”

“When we were galloping today…at first I was…I felt…”

“Fear?” Théoden supplied.

Éomer hung his head. Shame reddened his cheeks.

“I see,” Théoden nodded. He absentmindedly pulled a stalk from the nearby weeds and chewed on the end as he pondered how best to explain the emotion of fear to his nephew. “Fear can be a good thing and it can be a bad thing.”

Éomer’s head raised only slightly as his eyes sought those of uncle. “What do you mean?” he questioned, frowning as he puzzled over the thought. “How can fear in a warrior be a good thing?” Éomer tried unsuccessfully to imagine any of the warriors he knew being afraid. Could it possibly be that his father had felt fear? Théoden’s voice pulled him from his reverie.

“Fear can make you aware. When you are a leader of men, you must always be aware that your decisions will affect their lives, could cost them their lives. That is never easy. You must always be conscious that those lives are precious and must not be cast away at ease, for you will forever see their faces when you close your eyes at night.” The king sighed deeply, lost in his own memories for a moment. “Each man in your command has family, loved ones who depend on him. It is like a circle, Éomer. The king defends Rohan. The king is supported by his éoreds; the éoreds are made up of men who are supported by families, who are, in the end, the life blood of Rohan. Do you understand?”

“No,” the child answered honestly. “It is confusing.”

Théoden chuckled to himself. “I know. It was confusing to me as well, when my father tried to explain it.”

“So fear is a good thing? “Éomer asked.

“Not always,” responded the king.

“I don’t understand, Uncle,” admitted the frustrated boy.

Théoden was silent for a few moments as he silently sought the Bema’s guidance on how to explain these deep truths to his nephew. “Fear is neither good nor bad, Éomer; it is what men do with it that makes the difference. Fear can be bad when men allow it to paralyze them. Fear can be a prison of our own making when we let it steal away our resolve to do what we know must be done.”

That was something the boy could understand, and he nodded his acceptance.

“Do not despair, Éomer, you will come to understand it all in time. The world changes and all that once was strong now proves unsure. But in the world there are constants.”

Éomer turned serious brown eyes to his uncle. “Like fire?”

“Stronger than fire, Éomer is loyalty…the loyalty of old friends, the loyalty of a man to his wife, his family…”

“And the loyalty of the éoreds to their king,” Éomer interjected softly.

Théoden looked fondly at his nephew. How like his father he was. Théoden hoped that from wherever his spirit resided that Éomund could see the kind of young man his son was becoming.

“No king could ask for more, Éomer.”

Théoden noticed the yawn that Éomer tried to stifle. “Well, my boy, I don’t know about you but these old bones of mine are tired and could use some sleep. What say you that we turn in for the night and get an early start back to Edoras in the morning?”

“I will take the first watch,” offered Éomer.

“No, you get some sleep. I will gather some more wood for the fire and wake you for your watch in four or five hours. No, off you go, not arguments. You’ve had a big day and a growing lad needs his rest.”

Théoden watched as Éomer crawled under his blankets with a most contented look on his face. “Uncle, this has been a good day, has it not?”

Théoden kneeled down beside Éomer and made a show of tucking in the blankets before he ruffled the unruly blonde hair. “Yes,” he agreed, “this has been a good day.”

“My lord?”

Éomer started slightly and turned to Gamling with a slightly puzzled look on his face. “Gamling?”

“I suggested that this would be a good place to pause for the noon meal. There is fresh water here and grazing for the horses.”

Éomer looked around and concurred that this would be an ideal place for the column to rest. “Make it so, Gamling, and see that the caisson is placed in the shade.”

TBC