Chapter 2

December 3007 TA - Edoras

The Solstice was coming and in Rohan that meant celebration and feasting; the coming of the light and the remembrance of what had passed during the year. Of solemnity and of joy. Of particular joy in Edoras was the Passing On of the youth Eored.  It was thought fitting that the new year was the time for the youth eored to enter into the next stage of their training.  New swords were forged and given as a symbol that they were ready to take on a growing responsibility and dedication in their training.  The boys’ mothers or oldest female relative were to weave a special mantle for the occasion using family colors together with the green and white of the Mark symbolizing the family joining the larger family of the Eored.  It sometimes made for garish color combinations but it was all part of the celebrations.

Éowyn was nearing this same threshold and this was a concern for Théoden.   She of course could not take part in the ritual and celebrations because it was unknown that she was undergoing training but Théoden wanted to acknowledge her journey if only within the family.  To that point Théoden had called together the only other three that knew about her training.

He looked at those assembled, playing page and handed around goblets of fine Rhovanian vintage owing to the fact that not even his page was allowed entrance into this meeting.  It was a small group because the fewer who knew, the more protected Éowyn would be to pursue her dreams.  The fact that the dream was merely a mirage was not something Théoden chose to think about.  He looked at the three people present.  Those who loved Éowyn best.  Éomer, Théodred  and her beloved stablemaster Gamhelm.  Even Deordred was not included though Éowyn had been growing closer to him as she spent more time in the armoury.

Théoden settled into his own chair, padded on the arms and seat with a durable green velvet, and leveled a look at the three other members of this select group.  “What do we think?  In an honest assessment of her skills would Éowyn be ready to join the other twelve year olds in this next step to becoming part of an Eored?”

Théodred  spoke first, “If she were a boy then, aye!  She would.  Her sword play is progressing well.  She is very dedicated to perfecting her abilities.”

Éomer spoke next, “I think she is starting to understand the work needed to become an instinctive archer.  She knows that she needs to put in the time to become a truly fine one.  She isn’t there yet!” He chuckled, “I’m not there yet, but she at least understands the path.  Not all the boys training in the youth Eored understand that.”

Gamhelm spoke up, “She has the heart and the horse sense and the dedication needed to become a shieldmaiden.  So aye, she is ready.  But my lord…we are all avoiding the Oliphant in the room.  She can never be what she is dreaming of and working towards.”  He fell silent.

Théoden’s shoulders dropped and he drained his goblet and set it down; the slight sound echoed in the too silent room.  He stared at the floor examining a knot in the plank nearest him and fought to quell a flare of anger.  Gamhelm spoke only the truth and he spoke out of care and affection for Éowyn.  “Gamhelm my friend,” He began in a hesitant voice, “You speak the truth that we all know.”  He looked at his son and his nephew.  Théodred  looked back expectantly, sorrow in his eyes and Éomer, his dear nephew, looked as if he was wanting to say something but was holding back out of respect for his uncle.  “Éomer, speak your thoughts.”

Éomer looked dolefully at his uncle trying to choose his words carefully. “I know I was at first against this plan and part of me still is crying that this is all a lie.  But another part of me sees my sister happy and smiling and taking joy in life.  Instead of trying to tear Saelith’s hair out.”  Saelith was a girl of the court who had far too biting of a tongue and used it on Éowyn at times.  “I am torn.  She is very good and has many skills that can be made to grow further.  I just don’t know!” Éomer ended with a storm of emotion behind earnest blue eyes.

“You reflect my thoughts, nephew.” Théoden voiced softly.  “There are no easy answers.  It thrills my heart to see Éowyn’s eyes light with joy over a new accomplishment or bent over her sword sanding.  She is who she wants to be.  But Aye, I do fear in my heart that moment of reckoning that will destroy her dreams.  When it all comes crashing down.”  He gave a heartfelt sigh, weary of the world in that particular moment. He fervently admitted , “But Bema, curse me. I cannot strip the happiness that is currently in her heart.”  He looked at the other three in the room.  They looked back and Théoden could see his emotions reflected in their eyes. He said through a chagrined smile, “Bema be merciful to all when my lively, spirited niece learns the truth.  And do let it be long and not short, granting happiness as he may.” He paused, and then voiced decisively, “We will proceed with the family ceremony.”

~*~*~*~*~

Éowyn sat near the stables sitting on a bale of hay ostensibly waiting for Gamhelm to return from an unknown errand.  She had pulled a muscle in swordplay with Éomer the previous day in their secret training glade nestled amid the shouldering mountains.  It still pained her this morning and she needed some liniment for it.  Gamhelm always helped her with her training aches and pain because she could not go to Leoulf, the king’s healer with this sort of injury or questions would be raised.  Her uncle had been very clear on the secrecy of her training, so she confided in Gamhelm who could be trusted implicitly.

As she waited a light snow had started.  Glad that there was no one around to advise that she should go inside she took this moment to revel in newly fallen snow.  She turned her face to the sky and tried tasting as many snowflakes as possible, smiling each time a snowflake gently dissolved on her tongue.

“As much as I delight in the look of joy on your face, my lady.  You should come inside, it is starting to snow with more fervor,  Liniment I presume?” said the gruff but affectionate voice belonging to Gamhelm who despite being big and burly managed to move quite silently.  It was truly a skill that she had yet to master and she was a mere fraction of his size.

Éowyn opened her eyes and looked at Gamhelm, joy still evident on her face. “Yes, Gamhelm if you could!” She stated, jumping off the hay bale to fall in step with the stablemaster and to sit on another convenient hay bale within, awaiting the cool liniment for her shoulder.  “Where were you?

Gamhelm had been summoned by Théoden King to come and speak of Éowyn’s training held within his private chambers, but the stablemaster was sworn to not reveal this meeting to Éowyn.  By way of explanation he held up his wicker basket; it was at least a partial truth.  “I forgot my lunch basket and I did not want Gamwyn striding up the hill as her leg has been feeling poorly again with the onset of the cold weather!”

Éowyn nodded, completely accepting the half truth, “Is Gamwyn feeling poorly?” She inquired.  “I shall have Leoulf pay her a visit; maybe one of his salves can help her.” She offered, in concern in her young voice.

Gamhelm looked at her kindly, and hugged her with his basket unencumbered arm.  Leaning to kiss her on the top of her head, he then smiled and stated, “That is very kind of you, my lady!  I am sure that Gamwyn would greatly appreciate it!  Now let’s get that liniment on ya!”  He did not like keeping secrets from the little lass, but the plan for her Passing On ceremony had been decided and her solstice gifts had been discussed and it would not do to have her asking questions.  Just at that moment his eye fell upon the longbow that he was carving for Éowyn for the Solstice laying only partially covering near his workbench.  He had been working on it when the young rider had appeared at the stables with his summons.  He had been in such a rush he apparently did not fully conceal it.  A slight panic flared within Gamhelm.  Having applied the last of a measured dollop of liniment to Éowyn’s shoulder, he rubbed it in and wrapped a bandage soaked in a light poultice of ground ginger and thyme, “Now that might be a bit uncomfortable but leave that bandage on for the rest of the day.  The warmth created by the herbs will speed the healing.”  He wiped his hands on the cloth at his waist in haste. “Right then, off you get.  Cookery time is it not.”

Éowyn sulked just a little.  “Aye, but I was hoping that you didn’t remember!” 

Gamhelm laughed, “In every life, a little rain must fall, Lytling!” using the endearment that could be allowed only when no one was within earshot.  He waited for her footfalls in the snow, headed back to Golden Hall and then scurried over to the worktable where he had, too casually, laid her bow. He had taken the measure of the bow strength needed when he had asked Éowyn to test some bows he had made.  He said he needed to record the poundage of each bow.  Really he had been seeing what she could pull to a certain comfort and where there was room to grow.  He had been rather amazed at how well his little subterfuge had worked especially as he was generally a straightforward direct sort.  Stablemasters needed to know when and what counsel to keep but that was as far a distance in politicking as he was willing to go.

~*~*~*~*~

Fresh from her latest cooking disaster where she had been accused of adding ginger and thyme into a raspberry pie strictly against Thilda’s instructions. Éowyn did not realise until the end of the lesson what the ill-tempered cook was on about.  It was then she realised that Thilda must have been smelling the ginger and thyme from the poultice.  Sighing, Éowyn decided to pay a visit to the armoury, her second favourite place just after the stables.  It would cheer her up.  The sword she had been working on was nearing completion and she just wanted to visit it.  She entered the armoury and the sounds of hammer against metal filled her heart with happiness.  Deordred sat at his workbench with Freca and the new apprentice that she had yet to meet.  He was holding up an intricate weave for chainmail.  “This,” Deordred stated, “is called Easterling 4 in 1 weave.  Well, that’s I call it.  I have no idea what Easterlings called it. It was retrieved from  a long ago battle and its secrets were discovered long ago and the weave pattern has been passed on from Master Armourer to Master Armouer.  It is a good solid weave which can used as a rope and as a full sheet to make a shirt.”  

Éowyn was fascinated.  “Can I join?”

Deordred looked up, “My lady! Of course you can, there is enough room.”  He turned to gather more links for her to work upon.

Éowyn looked at Freca, “Do you mind?”

Freca, a boy with flaming red hair and freckles just about everywhere, with whom she had been forging a fast friendship owing to their age and proximity smiled, “And if I did?”

Éowyn countered teasingly, “I would do it anyway!”

“Just as her ladyship pleases. I guess!” Freca said, humorous teasing in his voice.

Éowyn wrinkled her nose,  “Oh, move over!”

“Aye, my lady!” Freca sang out in mock deference.

“Is she really a “My lady?” said the flaxen haired boy next to Freca, a little overawed never having met anyone of the Quality.  

Freca stated, “Not just ‘My Lady’ but she is the King’s niece!  But in here, she’s just one of us!”

Éowyn was a little stunned to hear Freca’s description of her.  She felt a rush of acceptance by Freca’s casual opinion.  It felt like home.  Deordred saw the emotions fall upon her face and smiled behind his beard.  Théoden would be most pleased.  They had often talked about Éowyn in their meetings together; the King always wanting to know how Éowyn was getting on and so happy to hear she was doing well.  His eyes twinkled, incongruously with his usually stern countenance, “Now my,” he emphasized the next word, “three apprentices, take one link and open it…”

During an extremely enjoyable hour of chain mailing, Éowyn had found out from the new boy, whose name was Folcred, that he was from the area near Aldburg. “Aldburg!  I’m from Aldburg!  Me and my brother, Éomer!”  She paused, “Do you miss it?”

“Aye,” Folcred said, “I miss Papa and Mama. And there was this little stream that led to a mountain that I used to catch frogs in!”

“I know that mountain!  My brother and I once got lost in that mountain looking for gold.  It was scary!” she confided. “And my brother has no sense of direction!” Éowyn shook her head in remembrance. 

Deordred marveled at the scene.  He had not been able to get more than three words together out of Folcred since his arrival two weeks prior and now he was happily chatting with Éowyn.  Young as she was she had a way of putting people at their ease around her.  He could not wait to tell his king about this day. 

~*~*~*~*~

NOTES:  Éomer mentions Saelith, A girl of the court. Saelith is introduced in the first chapter of Destiny's Child, another fan fic posted in here.

* The chainmail weave mentioned in the Armoury scene Easterling 4 in1.  It is an actual weave in reality called Persian 4 in 1.  As Persia does not actually exist yet I changed it to Easterling 4 jn 1, figuring that they are also a country to the East! :-)

*  Éowyn talks about her and Éomer getting lost in the chainmail scene. That is actually a scene I write about in Chapter 2, Leaving Home; Coming Home also another fanfic on this site! :-D