To The King

Chapter Five

Someone to Love and Teach Them

I am only one,
But still I am one.
I cannot do everything,
But still I can do something;
And because I cannot do everything
I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

-Edward Everett Hale, Lend a Hand

The company gathered in the clearing that had been chosen for the meal break. A copse of trees ran along the stream providing shade from the noon sun. Piquet lines were established and makeshift tethers loosely circled the horses within the field where the grazing was plentiful and a watering hole was available for the mounts. The supply wagons pulled into an unrestricting ring around the grazing war horses, though it was more a custom than a requirement. The great war horses of Rohan were well trained and would stay near their masters.

The wagons contained the tents and provisions for the long trip home, which would be made at a much slower place than was normal to accommodate the final procession of Théoden King. The group would pause in each village along the way to allow the populace the chance to show their respect to the fallen king. In addition to the normal provisions, there were extra rations sent by King Elessar to sustain Rohan through the long winter months when the chill wind barreled out of the mountains and the land was rendered barren in its icy grip. Most of the crops that had filled the barns of the Horse Lords were lost to the fires of the Dundlendings and the hordes of Mordor. What the mob couldn’t carry away they delighted in burning, for death and destruction were the fuels that fed their frenzies.

With the horses properly fed and watered, the warriors gathered into sitting small groups in the shade of the trees bordering the stream and talked softly amongst themselves while enjoying the provisions of the trail. Éomer walked a small way away from the group and knelt by the running water. Cupping his hands, he dipped them into the cool water and splashed it onto his face and the back of his neck, washing away the dust of the road. Then he filled the water pouch he’d brought from his saddle. A soldier quickly learned not to pass by fresh water for a man could never tell when he might again have the opportunity to refresh his supply. Rising, Éomer walked back over to where Éowyn and Faramir were eating their noon repast of crusty white bread, thick slices of buttery cheese, and fresh apples under the shade of a great elm tree. Gamling sat leaning with his back to the tree, chewing on a crisp apple, his eyes were closed as he savored the tart taste and enjoyed the quiet conversation taking place between the pair, who were debating the relative merits of the Rohirric as opposed to the Gondorian cavalry style.

Éomer snorted as he caught the tail end of the conversation. He leaned over to help himself to some of the bread and cheese and then took a seat beside his lieutenant. “What say you, Gamling? Who would you rather face down?”

Gamling slowly opened his eyes to see that his king as well as the Steward of Gondor and Éowyn were watching him with great expectation. Sensing a diplomatic trap in the making, the wily commander chose his words wisely. “Neither, my Lord.”

Faramir laughed out loud and clapped Gamling on the shoulder. “Well done, my friend! When you have finished your days of riding with the King of Rohan I will have room for you on my diplomatic staff, for that was a tactful answer if ever I heard one.”

Gamling very nearly choked on a piece of apple when he heard those words, and Éomer quirked an eyebrow at his friend. “What? Are you not prepared to bandy words with the fine folk in the White City for the rest of your life?”

“Enough you two!” laughed Éowyn. “You are going to scare poor Gamling to death.”

“The White City is a beautiful place,” defended Faramir.

“Aye, it is,” agreed Gamling quickly, still struggling to prevent a diplomatic incident. It’s just too, uh, too…”

“Rocky?” supplied Éomer drolly.

“Grand, I was going to say,” finished Gamling. “It’s too grand for a simple horseman like me.” Gamling nodded as though quite satisfied with his diplomatic prowess.

Before he could reply, Éomer caught sight of a young boy sitting with his back against one of the wagon wheels while he ate his lunch alone. He seemed awfully young to be a driver and there was something vaguely familiar about him to the king. “Gamling, who is that lad over there?”

Éomer nodded in the direction of the wagons when Gamling looked to see who it was that Éomer was referencing.

Spotting the boy that had caught his king’s attention, he smiled as he looked back at the king. “You don’t remember him, my Lord? That’s Hálith, son of Háma. He practically grew up in the Meduseld.”

“Hálith,” mused Éomer. “I have not seen him for a long time. After his mother died, Háma did not bring him to the Golden Hall as in the past.” Éomer thought back to all the times he’d very nearly tripped over the horde of young ones playing in the halls of his home. The children belonged to the women who worked in the kitchens or as maids in the Meduseld and the children were always welcomed to accompany them, for family was a bedrock of the culture of Rohan. Many of the women who worked in the Great Hall were the wives of the king’s own guard. This arrangement worked well, allowing the families to be close together. Éomer had shared many a meal with in the Great Hall with the king, the guards, and their families. He loved the raucous lunches with the rambunctious children being shushed by their mothers while the fathers laughed and swapped stories with the king. They were very good memories for the young king.

“Hálith,” he repeated thoughtfully. “How old is he? Is he not too young to be driving wagons?”

“He is an orphan, my Lord,” explained Gamling. “I know that he is too young to be a wagon master, but he is also too young to be in the guard. I took him into the service to give him a home.”

Éomer continued to stare at the boy pensively. His eyes were on Hálith, but his mind was far away on another orphan.

O-o-O-o-O

Éomer held Éowyn’s hand as the words were spoken over Théodwyn’s grave. The soft cries of the little girl for her mother were nearly drowned out by the downpour of rain that started suddenly, causing the villagers of the Eastfold to scatter for their homes as the wind buffeted them harshly. The only ones who remained unmoving were the two children, their uncle and cousin. Théoden stood behind Éomer and Éowyn with a hand protectively on the shoulder of each of them. Théodred stood beside his father somberly looked down at the grave of his aunt. He couldn’t help but think about how it was for him when he lost his own mother.

Éowyn turned to look back at Théoden and Théodred. Tears warred with the rain drops streaking down her face, each fighting to overwhelm the other. “I want Mommy, Theo,” she cried.

Théodred took his little niece into his arms. “Come on, little love, let Theo take you in by the fire.” Giving his father a nod, Théodred turned and walked away carrying Éowyn.

Théoden still stood behind Éomer, but now with both hands on the boy’s shoulders. He was prepared to stand there in the rain all night, if that is what Éomer needed. The king gently squeezed the boy’s shoulders, signaling his love and support. Théoden could feel the slight shake in the shoulders as Éomer began to shiver in the cold rain. Still they stood, silent sentinels in the gathering dusk.

“Uncle?”

“Yes, Éomer.”

“Are they together now?” Intense brown eyes fixed on the king…eyes that were too old for a lad this young…eyes that had seen too much pain…but eyes that were dry, devoid of tears.

How to answer? The king smiled softly at his young nephew. “They rest together in the earth of the Eastfold, a place they both loved. I believe their spirits are together now as well.”

Éomer seemed to consider his uncle’s words for a moment. With a deep breath, the man-child turned back to look once again at the fresh gravesite. Slowly, and with great deliberation, Éomer held out his hand and dropped the bit of earth that he’d held there. The dirt had turned to mud in the pouring rain but he seemed not to notice. “Goodbye, Mother. Do not fear for Éowyn; I will take care of her.”

The king noted that the boy did not mention himself. Looking down at the wet earth, he said his own goodbyes to his sister. ‘Ah, Wyn, these are dark days in which we live, but I foresee that your son will be a light and a blessing to our people, for brave and strong is his heart. I will do my best to raise him as you would wish. And,’ he thought with a smile, ‘we will both take care of Éowyn, as will Teddy.’ With a sigh, Théoden raised his face to the sky beseeching Bema’s guidance in dealing with the two grief stricken children, especially Éomer, who had not shed a single tear, at least that any one had seen. That fact worried Théoden, for he feared the boy was burying his grief so deeply that it would take a long time to surface, and who knew how much damage it would do in the meantime.

“Come, Éomer, let us go inside with your sister and Théodred. We will get an early start in the morning.”

“We are going to Edoras?” inquired the boy quietly.

“We are going to Edoras,” nodded the king, “your new home.”

O-o-O-o-O

“My Lord?” asked Gamling. “Would you like me to reassign the boy?”

Éomer considered his Lieutenant’s question. “Not just yet, but a soldier’s barracks is not the place for lad. Let me think on it, Gamling.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Éomer laid his bread and cheese down beside him as he continued to watch Hálith. He was troubled that the son of Háma, the king’s valued doorward would be so alone, and yet, he realized, there must be many other orphaned children across the Mark after the losses in the war. Suddenly and clearly he knew exactly what he had to do. This was not to be allowed. He could not have a kingdom where children were raising themselves.

“What are you thinking, brother?” inquired Éowyn. “I know that look.”

Éomer remained silent for a moment before giving his sister a searching look. “Éowyn, how long are you planning to stay in Rohan before your wedding?”

Éowyn was surprised by the query and sent a questioning glance at Faramir. “As long as you need me, brother, you know that. Faramir and I have talked about our situation and he completely understands that my presence might be required until you have the state of the Mark under control. We both know that there are great obstacles facing our country.”

Éomer nodded slowly. “I would not ask you for a moment longer than absolutely necessary, sister. But there is great need at home and I have a mission of utmost importance that I must place upon your shoulders.”

Éowyn’s curiosity was piqued. “What is it?”

“Éowyn is not as physically strong as she was before her fight with the Witch King, Éomer,” interjected Faramir worriedly. He glanced quickly at Éowyn. “Now, my love, before you skewer me know that I speak only from concern for you. You have come a long way, but you are not completely healed.”

“Peace, Faramir,” soothed Éomer. “The mission I have for Éowyn can be handled from Edoras.”

“Will you two stop taking about me!” snapped Éowyn. “What is this mission Éomer?”

“I am going to send riders throughout the Mark to find every orphaned child and bring them to Edoras. Those children who have already been taken in by relatives will be left there, but those who have not will be housed in the Meduseld while we find families for them. Until that time, their King will be a father to them.”

All conversation had stopped at the king’s pronouncement and Éomer now found himself the uncomfortable recipient of everyone’s attention.

Faramir was first to find his voice. “That is a fine and noble undertaking, Éomer.”

Éowyn had tears in her eyes as she got up from her place beside Faramir and moved over to her brother. Falling on her knees beside him, she threw her arms around his neck, completely unconcerned for once about the public display of affection. “I’m so proud of you, brother. I will help you in every way possible.” She leaned back on her heels and placed her palm lovingly against Éomer’s cheek. “We will see that every child in Rohan has someone to love them and teach them, as we had uncle and Theo.”

Éomer smiled into his sister’s tearful eyes. “No child of the Mark will be alone so long as I am king, and we will begin with Háleth.”

TBC

A/N An excellent question was asked about whether or not Théoden was embalmed, since it has been months since his death and because of Éomer’s order to be sure the caisson was placed in the shade. I am going on the assumption that Gondor did use embalming techniques for its rulers based on two things. First of all, the well known and documented embalming used by the Egyptians, which interestingly enough has recently been analyzed to show the use of cedar oil. Secondly, upon a statement made by Denethor in The Return of the King: “No long sleep of death embalmed…” Éomer’s request to have the caisson placed in the shade was merely an emotional and respectful one.