Edoras, September 3007 TA
The leaves crunched as Éowyn rapidly made her way to the hay boss with the temporary cloth target affixed to it. She surveyed her smaller green and black fletched arrows arrayed in a disappointingly random spotting across the various colors of the cloth. Two were in the black nestled in and among Éomer’s longer green and gold fletched arrows in the center of the target but the other four were spread throughout the boss.
She started to pull the disappointing arrows out of the target with a little more ferocity than she had meant.
“Easy! Sister. You could damage the arrowheads by pulling so hard.” Éomer gently warned as he arrived to retrieve his own arrows.
Éowyn immediately decreased the force she had been employing and continued at a more measured pace. “Sorry!” She replied sheepishly, “It’s just that I get so frustrated! Maybe I need my own bow!”
“A poor workman always blames his tools!” Éomer chimed and dodged deftly as Éowyn lobbed an expected acorn at his head.
Back at the makeshift firing line, Éomer watched as Éowyn drew for her shot. “Remember, impatience makes for an off target shot. Calm. Breathe. Then pull your bow. Remember what you have been taught and put it into practice with each shot, press the bow and pull the bowstring in one motion. If it doesn’t feel right bring the bow down and try again. It takes repetition to make this motion muscle memory so in battle you needn’t think about it. You just do it.”
Éowyn stood with her arrow knocked and pointing at the ground. She took a deep breath while she focused on the target, exhaling to calm her blood and bring stillness, recalling Théodred’s words of many lessons. As she inhaled slowly, she pulled and pressed the bow, string to her lips and tip of her nose. She sighted down the arrow and let fly, her hand merely opening to release the bowstring. The arrow flew as the bow dropped forward to rest in the cradle of her bowhand. “That felt good!” she enthused at her brother.
“It looked good!” Éomer replied, happy at his sister's excitement. “Try again! Finish the round!”
Éowyn nodded, trying to repeat the same motion. Breathe. Pull. Loose. Her third arrow pull didn’t feel right so heeding her brother’s words she brought the bow down and started again. Breathe. Pull. Loose. Completing the round of six she practically ran to the boss to retrieve her arrows. Four were in the black and two were in the red of the next painted ring. “Look Éomer! Four in the black!”
“You see. You can do it. You just can’t rush it at first. You have to do the work.” Éowyn nodded.
He glanced at the position of the sun in the sky, noting that it was getting onto dusk. “We had best be getting back.”
Éowyn glanced at the sky and a look of mischievous joy sat upon her face. “I didn’t notice the time! I have somehow missed Needlework time.” she pretend grumbled. Her face took on a more serious expression, “Though Guthhild will definitely not be happy. It is so not fair. You get to go off to swordplay tomorrow and I have to go off to needlework!” That last word imbued with as much derision as a twelve-year-old girl could muster. She was really not looking forward to this.
Éomer had the good sense to look sympathetic and shrugged his shoulders, “It is the way of things!”
“Yes, well!” Éowyn’s face held a mutinous glare, “It shouldn’t be!
As they were riding back to the stables, they happened upon something of a commotion. Gamhelm saw them ride up. “My lord, My lady!”
Éomer spoke first. “Master Gamhelm, what is happening?”
Gamhelm nodded to Éomer to acknowledge who had spoken but he turned to Éowyn, “My Lady. Remember when you said that you wanted to be present when Sunfýr was about to foal.”
Éowyn nodded enthusiastically, “Aye!?” she said expectantly.
“Well, she is in the nearing stages now!” Gamhelm informed her but the pause upon his face gave Éowyn cause for concern. Her concern was justified with the stablemaster’s next word, “She is foaling early. Tisn’t the full moon yet. That won’t be for another few days…”
“Oh no!” Éowyn exclaimed, she got off the palfrey from the stables that she was allowed to ride, instantly concerned for mare and foal. She had seen what tragedy could result from an early foaling. The foal might not adapt to the world outside the mother or be too weak to nurse. Sometimes the young foal is simply not strong enough to survive. “What can be done, Gamhelm?” Sunfýr had been her mother’s horse. She came from Aldburg to stable in Edoras when their mother had passed and she and Éomer came to live in Edoras.
“Well my lady, you have been doing it already. You have been there for Sunfýr currying her, pampering her, giving her treats. You’ve developed a rapport with her. The stable boys have been keeping her stall very clean, consistently changing out the hay every day. I’ve been checking her feed, increasing gradually and adding flowers that aid in a smooth delivery. Although she is foaling a little bit before the full moon I did start the increase at signs I saw as an indication that she was coming near her time. We’ve done all we could but it is going to be a long night, My Lady. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Let’s go!” Éowyn said as she handed off the palfrey to be curried and rubbed down by Helaf, one of the stable boys.
She turned to Éomer, “Tell Uncle what is happening, and I won’t be there at supper!” She was already heading to Sunfýr’s stall throwing a quick plait onto her unbound hair and did not wait for her brother’s answer.
Éomer shook his head as he watched his sister’s directed gait and mused that now as Sunfýr was about to foal there would be no shifting Éowyn out of the stable until the young foal was standing and suckling. He tended to his own horse and then set upon his message errand to their uncle especially the fact that Sunfýr was foaling early. It would be of great concern considering the deep emotional attachment Éowyn had to both the mare and the coming foal. All Rohirrim had a special bond with their horse; it was in their blood but Sunfýr, because she was Theodwyn’s horse, was an emotional link to her mother and should anything happen during this foaling. Éomer frowned, not even finishing the thought. Their uncle needed to know.
Éowyn ran to Sunfýr’s stall and saw that she was pacing about the stall amid clean hay. Gamhelm stood leaning at the stall. “She is a little restless right now. But she will lay down soon. It should not be too long now.”
Éowyn entered the stall slowly and rubbed Sunfýr’s ears, “Hello, mama! You are doing so well.” she said in greeting. “I will be here this whole time. Don’t you worry!” Éowyn heard a soft knicker and looked up. Starlit from the next stall stuck her head over the railing. Éowyn laughed softly. “Apparently so will Starlit. You are in good hands, my girl. Aye! that you are!” She rubbed Sunfýr’s nose and said, “I will be right at the railing should you need anything.” She stepped gently crinkling the hay with each footfall until she reached the railing, Sunfýr continued pacing but after a few hours in after a couple of awkward attempts she lay down.
Gamhelm, his gruff voice with affection for both Éowyn and Sunfýr, stated, “Now we wait…and watch. We are waiting for signs that she is reaching the next stage of foaling. We should see the front legs. Sunfýr will do most of the work herself, but we must remain on vigil should she need assistance.” Éowyn noticed that Gamhelm looked upon the mare with compassionate concern. She felt so much love for the stablemaster at that time. His gruff empathy filled her heart.
A few hours passed. Stifling a yawn, she looked at Sunfýr, “She looks so uncomfortable…” she said as watched the mare squirm on the ground.
Gamhelm replied, “She is. Poor dear. But she knows what to do. The full moon just began her tale for her a little early is all.”
“The full moon?” Éowyn looked quizzically at him. “What has she got to do with the foaling.”
“Everything apparently,” He gave Sunfýr a studied once over, “I think we have time for a short tale. I will tell you what I know.” They exited the stall leaving the gate ajar should they need to make a quick entrance. Éowyn sat on the stool near with her back to the stall outer wall and reached into the treat box and withdrew a carrot as she was a bit peckish now that she thought about it and had missed supper. She took a crunching bite and looked at the old stablemaster expectantly. “This is how Hamod, my old master, explained it to me. All of our horses are descended from the Mearas brought from the West by Bema the Hunter who always aided the Northmen. Our horses were the envy of Middle Earth and the wicked among men coveted them, especially the foals just birthed because they could teach them their evil ways and they would no longer be Mearas any longer. The Northmen expressed their woes to the Hunter and he looked with pity upon his beloved people so he gathered up all the mares of the Northmen and looked into their eyes instilling in them the need to seek only the light of the moon when it is at its brightest and for good measure he spoke to the moon asking that she speak to the mares during the brightest light and show them the way. Only then, hidden from wicked eyes could they safely foal guided by the moon. Away from the prying eyes of the wicked men, foals were delivered and the Mearas once again flourished across the Northlands.”
Éowyn looked rapt at his words, “Do you believe that?” She asked in a tone of wonder chomping on her carrot.
Gamhelm said, “Hamod was quite a yarn spinner, but,” he shrugged, “Who am I to doubt Bema. And I do know that in all my years in this stable it is most certainly true that when the full moon shines the mares foal. Rarely does it differ.”
A plaintiff whinny interrupted their story and instantly both were on their feet looking into the stall. Gamhelm saw the shape of a hoof but not the actual hoof. He gently pushed open the gate into the stall and kneeled at Sunfýr's backend where the shape of the hoof appeared. “Oh, Girl. You are doing well but let me see if I can help you a little!” He motioned for Éowyn to come forward, “Slowly” he said quietly. “Go to her head and try to comfort her as I help to clear the path for the front legs to travel.” Éowyn stowed her carrot in a pocket and flew, quietly, to Sunfýr’s head. “Shh-shh! Girl. It will be all right! Let the moon tell you what to do. Listen to the moon…”
Gamhelm looked up and they shared a smile and then he bent his head again, “Here we go girl!” as he cleared more of the sack away to set the legs straight and let Sunfýr and the moon proceed smoothly once again.
Éowyn was enrapt to see a new life into the world. She craned her neck to see a little more. “The head!” she yelled out. Sunfýr knickered abruptly. She looked back at Sunfýr’s head and said more softly, “Sorry girl. I was too excited. I will be calmer.” she vowed as she stroked the mare’s nose.
Within half an hour the little foal was lying on the hay and Sunfýr was calm but clearly exhausted. Light was filtering into the stable. In the predawn light Gamhelm motioned Éowyn over to where the little foal lay still attached to his mama. “Now we clear away from the nose.” he said as he did just that. “Take that hay and start rubbing on the chest. That will be getting the little foal ready for breathing, Firmly and quick, but not rough…” Éowyn grabbed a handful of hay and started to rub timidly at first, not wanting to hurt the newborn foal but grew confident in her motions.
“Oh you beauty!” Éowyn said as she gazed with the eyes of love upon the newborn.
Unbeknownst to her, with the dawn Théoden and Éomer had approached the stall to see how the foaling was progressing. Théoden leaned against the railing and Gamhelm bent his head in obeisance ready to declare a greeting but Théoden put his finger to his lips to still the forthcoming greeting, motioning toward Éowyn. Gamhelm nodded, a smile crinkling his eyes.
Théoden watched as Éowyn rubbed the foal’s chest. His heart swelled with pride and love; she had the touch and the foal was responding to her. He simply watched her for a few moments. Gamhelm interrupted his viewing, “It is a newborn filly!”
Théoden laughed and declared, “A newborn filly for my own beloved little filly!”
Éowyn looked up at that laugh and saw her uncle smiling with a light in his eyes. “Oh Uncle! Do you mean it!”
Théoden looked at Éowyn’s shining, happy face. From the moment he saw her and her brother just arrived from Aldburg, in the Great Hall, tired and grieving he knew he would move heaven and earth to give them happiness. This was only a small down payment on that promise. “Do you want her, Lytling!”
Éowyn replied fervently, “Oh Aye!”
“Then she is yours! Happy Birthday!”
Éowyn jumped up still clutching the hay and stepped up onto the stool she had been sitting on earlier in the night. She leaned up and planted a kiss on his bristly cheek and hugged him across the railing, promptly losing some of the hay across his shoulders and a little in his hair. “Thank you, Uncle. I love you!” She just spied Éomer next to her Uncle, “The filly is mine, Éomer! Mine!”
Éomer smiled, “Happy Birthday, little sister!”
Éowyn realised then that it was now the next day as she had spent the night in the stable with the foaling. “It IS my birthday!" A light dawned, “We share a birthday!” She hopped back from the stool and knelt at the little foal’s chest. “Happy Birthday, little one!” as she began to rub the newborn’s chest again.
More waiting was involved now after the initial ministrations had been performed. They stood at the rail all waiting for the newborn foal to stand on her own. Éowyn stood praying that the moon, though it had passed away at night, left last instructions for both mare and young one alike.
Gamhelm leaned over and whispered, “They can sense anxiety. You need to calm yourself, lytling. It will be alright.”
Éowyn gave him a tremulous smile and took a deep breath in order to sluice away her nervousness. A few moments later a first stumbling attempt then a second being gently nudged and supported by Sunfýr’s motherly nose. Up on four wobbly legs the foal stood. Sunfýr started licking her down and within minutes the foal began nuzzling for a drink from mama.
After said meal taken, Gamhelm held an ear to the foal’s chest listening to his breathing. A smile across his face, “Well she may have been a bit early, but I hear no gurgling in her chest. I think she will be just fine." Éowyn let out the breath that she had not realised she was holding, clapped her hands and emitted a small squeak of happiness.
Théoden smiled at the sound, “What are you going to name her?”
Éowyn thought for a few moments and then said, “Wildefýr! Because she has lit a wildfire in my heart.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lytling: Old English for Little One.
All references about foaling were researched on You Tube.