Post by Admin on Jan 2, 2021 4:27:34 GMT
Author: Carawyn
Challenge: Joker - Leavetaking
Summary: Éomund says farewell to his family as he prepares to ride to Emyn Muil in pursuit of orcs.
Rating: K
Characters: Éomund, Théodwyn, Éomer, Éowyn, OC
You can review the story here:
www.fanfiction.net/s/12856469/1/The-Marshal-and-His-Lady
November 12, 3002
Théodwyn was helping to prepare the hall for the midday meal, and so was carrying a stack of plates in one arm when Éomund came up behind her and pulled her into his arms. She gave a small squeak of surprise but then laughed, slapping playfully at his arms with her free hand. “Leave me be, you great lout. I’ve work to do.”
Even as she scolded she leaned back into his embrace, and he laughed before leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek loudly. “There’s a fine greeting for your lord and husband!”
She smiled fondly at him over her shoulder, and lifted her hand to cup his cheek before kissing him firmly but quickly. “My lord and husband you may be, but if you make me drop these plates do not think I will not send you to the kitchen to scrub them, as I would your children.”
Éomund glanced over to where their children sat at a small table in a corner of the main hall, finishing their lessons for the morning.
Éowyn was watching them, but looked away quickly and giggled when she caught her father's eye.
Éomer was also watching, but the expression on his face made it clear he wished the floor would simply open beneath him so he could escape. Éomund sent him a wink and chuckled before he gave his wife another noisy kiss on the cheek and released her. He strode over to his son and ruffled his hair. “Someday, my boy…”
After she put the plates on the table Théodwyn looked over to her family, and smiled fondly, “Go ahead and wash your hands now. We’re almost ready.”
Éomund smiled back at her, then nodded.
Éowyn dashed over to the pitcher and basin kept near the front doors with all the energy of a seven year old while Éomer walked over more slowly, his father's hand on his shoulder. Servants carried in a tureen of stew and fresh loaves of bread. By the time everything was in place the family was ready, and the members of the household were gathering as well.
The marshal and his family were given the honor of being served first, and soon they were all settled on benches. Théodwyn broke one of the loaves and handed half to her husband, then laughed as she saw that Éomer was already wolfing down his stew as quickly as he could chew. She looked at her husband across the table, and he simply grinned and gave a small shrug with one shoulder.
Éowyn asked a question about the history lesson she had just concluded, and Théodwyn answered as she started to eat, with Éomund adding his own insights from time to time. Soon Éomer had slowed his eating enough to become interested in the conversation, and he joined in as well, between mouthfuls.
They had been seated for about half an hour when there was a commotion at the doors to the hall. All eyes in the hall turned that direction, and it was only a moment before a young man was allowed to enter. From his disheveled appearance it was clear that he had ridden hard and fast.
“Marshal Éomund!”
Éomund was already on his feet, and nodded his head towards a corner of the hall that was a little removed from his family. The messenger met him there, and for some moments the men stood in quiet conversation, the sound of their voices carrying to Théodwyn from time to time but not their words.
At last Éomund clapped his hand to the younger man’s shoulder, then waved towards the table where the food was still laid out. The rider moved eagerly to fill a bowl as Éomund returned to his family.
Though she had tried to hide her concern, and to keep up the conversation with her children, Théodwyn’s expression had grown tense as she waited for Éomund to return to the table. His expression remained neutral as he approached, but there was a fire burning in his eyes, one that she knew all too well. She knew he would be riding out, and soon.
Standing, she put her hand on her husband’s arm to lead him back into the corner where he had spoken to the messenger.
He gave a small nod as he looked at her, answering her unasked question and confirming her fears. “Orcs have been spotted, fleeing toward the north east. Just a small band, it seems, easy to catch, but I cannot allow them to run free through the Eastfold.”
Her voice was low, so only he could hear her. “Éomund… Must you go?”
“Of course I do. I have an obligation, to the king and to the people. “
“I know, love, but…” She paused, and put her other hand on his other arm. “I fear… something terrible will happen. To you. I feel it…”
Éomund pulled her close and kissed her forehead, then lifted her chin with one finger so he could look in her eyes. “I will be fine, my heart.”
Théodwyn tightened her grip on his arms, but her voice was still low enough that only he would hear her words. “Éomund… I know of your duty, and have ever supported you in it. But this once, this one time, please, do not go. Send your men to protect the people, but let Bernulf lead them…”
He gave a small shake of his head. “What reason could I give to not ride with the men, Théodwyn? They can see that I am not ill… nor you, or the children.”
She looked down for a moment and was silent as she thought.
When looked up at him again her eyes were pleading. “Is there not a rider whose leadership you need to have evaluated? Could Bernulf not ride as your eyes and report back to you?”
But even as she spoke she knew it was futile to try to keep him from riding. The fire was still in his eyes, and she knew that he would never consent to sitting in the hall, idle, while his men rode to battle. He stood before her, but she knew a part of his mind was already making plans and weighing options for how to ensure victory.
Once more he shook his head gently, but his voice was firm. “I must go, Théodwyn. You know this.”
For a long moment she simply stood there, her hands still clutching his arms, but then at last she gave a deep sigh, and nodded. “Aye, I know it well, Éomund.” She gave a weak attempt at a smile. “You would not be the man that I love if you did not take your duties to heart, But… promise me that you will exercise caution? I have heard stories of how rash you can be when fighting, especially when fighting those creatures.”
He laughed softly, and lowered his forehead to rest on hers. “The Riders gossip more than the old hens at their sewing.” He lifted his head, and again tipped her face up so he could look in her eyes. “I will do what I must to protect our people, and my family. But I give you my word that I will do all in my power to return to you, my love.” He kissed her gently, “My lady.” Another kiss. “My wife.”
Théodwyn released one hand from his arm, and used it to pull his head down for a kiss that was fierce, and bordered on desperation. Many of the Riders that were gathering by the doors were grinning widely by the time she released him.
A quick glance and a raised brow from the marshal sent the watching men hurrying out the door into the cool autumn air.
Éomund looked at his wife once more, and kissed her quickly on the cheek. “I must prepare. Every minute we delay lets them get further away.”
She nodded and tried again to smile. “I will have the cup ready for you.”
Éomund turned, and strode from the hall towards their quarters.
Glancing towards the door to the kitchens, Théodwyn saw that Ingvild had already brought the richly carved cup and a skin of wine and left them on the serving table. She looked at them for a long moment before returning to the table where her children sat watching. She sat in her place again, and before she was even fully settled Éomer was asking her “The men are going to ride, aren’t they. After orcs? Where are they going?”
Théodwyn looked across the table at him, and was shocked to see the fire that she had just seen burning in Éomund’s eyes was also in those of his eleven year old son. She took a quick breath as a new fear gripped her heart.
Éomer seemed to realize that he had been overly eager and fell silent.
Reaching out to put her arm around Éowyn, Théodwyn nodded. “Yes, they are riding as quickly as they can be ready.” She sighed. “Orcs have been sighted in the Eastfold, and your father has to protect our people.”
Éowyn looked at her mother with wide eyes, as if she sensed some of her mother’s fear. “But Papa will return, won’t he? He always says that orcs are little more than animals, and present less challenge than a boar...”
Éomer scoffed before his mother could form an answer. “Of course he will! No orcs could even come close to hitting him. Not Father. He will destroy them all and be home singing the songs of victory before you know it.”
Éowyn’s concern turned into a grin at Éomer ’s enthusiastic reply, and even Théodwyn smiled through her fears as she replied, “Bema grant that be true.”
Rising again, she continued speaking to her son. “Why don’t you go see if you can help your father with his preparations, Éomer.”
Éomer stood quickly with a muttered “Yes, Mother.” He strode to the door separating the hall from the family quarters eagerly, and Théodwyn was again startled to realise how much he looked like Éomund as he walked away.
Giving Éowyn’s shoulders a light squeeze she asked, “Éowyn, will you come and help me prepare the farewell cup for your father?”
Éowyn looked up at her mother again, her eyes wide once more as she nodded. “Yes, Mama.”
It was the first time she had been invited to help with the ceremony. When they reached the serving table she stood by her mother’s side solemnly as she watched everything that was done, and at her mother’s urging she carefully echoed the traditional blessings spoken as the wine was poured into the cup.
They had barely finished when Éomund returned to the hall, with Éomer following him and carrying his bedroll proudly. Bernulf, as Éomund’s second, joined them as they crossed to Théodwyn and Éowyn .
Théodwyn turned when she heard their footsteps and smiled warmly at her husband as he approached. She lifted the cup with both hands when he stood before her, and smiled as she held it out to him.
“Fare you well, Éomund.” she said. “Receive now this cup and drink in happy hour. Health be with thee at thy going and coming!” 1
Éomund took the cup from her and drank deeply before returning it to her hands. When he started to step back, Théodwyn gave a very small shake of her head and he stopped.
Crouching down, Théodwyn carefully passed the lightened cup to her daughter, and gave her a few words of whispered instruction. The girl nodded, then stepped forward and offered the cup and blessing to Éomund again.
Éomund’s face remained solemn, but Théodwyn saw that the wrinkles around his eyes deepened slightly, as they would when he smiled.
He took the cup a second time, and drank again before passing it back to his daughter with a smile and a small nod. Éowyn smiled back proudly, then let her mother take the cup in order to offer it to Bernulf as well.
Théodwyn drained the cup to complete the ceremony, and then placed it back on the table. After nodding respectfully to her, Bernulf stepped away and exited the hall to ensure that the riders were prepared.
Giving his wife a reassuring smile, Éomund bent down enough to pick up Éowyn in one arm. He gave a loud groan as he stood. “My little girl is not so little anymore! I may not be able to carry you this way much longer, Éowyn.”
Putting her arm around his neck, Éowyn held on to her father tightly. “Then will I be big enough to learn how to use a sword?”
Éomund’s laugh carried through the hall, but Théodwyn still heard Éomer’s quiet scoff before her husband spoke again. “Well, let me see. You are seven now, are you not?”
Éowyn nodded vigorously.
“I seem to recall that Éomer started learning the sword when he was seven. Maybe in the Spring…”
“But, Papa, that’s months away!”
He chuckled. “It is too cold for you to spend much time outside, Éowyn, and you know your mother’s rule about playing with swords in the hall.” He gave a sidelong look at Éomer as he spoke, and grinned when the boy’s cheeks flushed.
Éowyn sighed, but then nodded. “Yes, Papa.”
Giving his daughter a wink, Éomund put his other arm around Théodwyn’s waist. Together they followed Bernulf towards the doors, Éomer falling into step at his father’s side. The family often walked together in this way when Éomund was to leave, and Théodwyn took great comfort in the routine.
Once they were through the doors and standing on the covered porch that separated the hall from the yard before it Éomund set Éowyn on her feet and crouched before her. “I know I do not have to tell you to be good for your Mama, and to help her all you can while I am away, Éowyn.” When she nodded he kissed her brow lightly. “I love you, my little shieldmaiden.”
Éowyn giggled, as she always did when he addressed her this way, but threw her arms around him, “I love you, too, Papa.”
He engulfed her in his arms for a moment, then released her with a wide smile and stood. Turning to face Éomer he put both hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I leave you as the head of the family, my son, but you know to listen to your mother and do as she asks you.”
Éomer nodded gravely. “Yes, sir.”
Éomund grinned, and moved one hand to ruffle Éomer’s hair affectionately before pulling him into an embrace. “I love you, Éomer. And I’m proud of you.”
When he released Éomer the boy was red faced, but though he ducked his head and made a show of smoothing his hair he couldn’t completely hide his pleased grin.
Finally Éomund turned to Théodwyn, and for a long moment they simply looked at one another. Then Théodwyn stepped to him and wrapped her arms around him, hiding her face in the curve of his neck. He pulled her still closer and rested his cheek against her hair for the passing of several heartbeats.
Finally he brought his lips to her ear and whispered a few words to her. She replied with a weak laugh, then pulled away and smiled up at him warmly as she cupped his face with both her hands.
“Remember your promise, Éomund. Return to me.”
He smiled, and lowered his head to kiss her. “I will, Théodwyn.”
For another moment they stood there unmoving, but then he dropped his arms and she her hands, and he turned to walk off the porch, whistling to call his men to order.
A few moments later they rode out from the yard, twelve men altogether, and once beyond the gates in the sheltering walls they urged their horses into a gallop and were quickly gone from sight.
1 – This is, of course, a direct quote from The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien, Chapter 6 "The King of the Golden Hall."
Challenge: Joker - Leavetaking
Summary: Éomund says farewell to his family as he prepares to ride to Emyn Muil in pursuit of orcs.
Rating: K
Characters: Éomund, Théodwyn, Éomer, Éowyn, OC
You can review the story here:
www.fanfiction.net/s/12856469/1/The-Marshal-and-His-Lady
November 12, 3002
Théodwyn was helping to prepare the hall for the midday meal, and so was carrying a stack of plates in one arm when Éomund came up behind her and pulled her into his arms. She gave a small squeak of surprise but then laughed, slapping playfully at his arms with her free hand. “Leave me be, you great lout. I’ve work to do.”
Even as she scolded she leaned back into his embrace, and he laughed before leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek loudly. “There’s a fine greeting for your lord and husband!”
She smiled fondly at him over her shoulder, and lifted her hand to cup his cheek before kissing him firmly but quickly. “My lord and husband you may be, but if you make me drop these plates do not think I will not send you to the kitchen to scrub them, as I would your children.”
Éomund glanced over to where their children sat at a small table in a corner of the main hall, finishing their lessons for the morning.
Éowyn was watching them, but looked away quickly and giggled when she caught her father's eye.
Éomer was also watching, but the expression on his face made it clear he wished the floor would simply open beneath him so he could escape. Éomund sent him a wink and chuckled before he gave his wife another noisy kiss on the cheek and released her. He strode over to his son and ruffled his hair. “Someday, my boy…”
After she put the plates on the table Théodwyn looked over to her family, and smiled fondly, “Go ahead and wash your hands now. We’re almost ready.”
Éomund smiled back at her, then nodded.
Éowyn dashed over to the pitcher and basin kept near the front doors with all the energy of a seven year old while Éomer walked over more slowly, his father's hand on his shoulder. Servants carried in a tureen of stew and fresh loaves of bread. By the time everything was in place the family was ready, and the members of the household were gathering as well.
The marshal and his family were given the honor of being served first, and soon they were all settled on benches. Théodwyn broke one of the loaves and handed half to her husband, then laughed as she saw that Éomer was already wolfing down his stew as quickly as he could chew. She looked at her husband across the table, and he simply grinned and gave a small shrug with one shoulder.
Éowyn asked a question about the history lesson she had just concluded, and Théodwyn answered as she started to eat, with Éomund adding his own insights from time to time. Soon Éomer had slowed his eating enough to become interested in the conversation, and he joined in as well, between mouthfuls.
They had been seated for about half an hour when there was a commotion at the doors to the hall. All eyes in the hall turned that direction, and it was only a moment before a young man was allowed to enter. From his disheveled appearance it was clear that he had ridden hard and fast.
“Marshal Éomund!”
Éomund was already on his feet, and nodded his head towards a corner of the hall that was a little removed from his family. The messenger met him there, and for some moments the men stood in quiet conversation, the sound of their voices carrying to Théodwyn from time to time but not their words.
At last Éomund clapped his hand to the younger man’s shoulder, then waved towards the table where the food was still laid out. The rider moved eagerly to fill a bowl as Éomund returned to his family.
Though she had tried to hide her concern, and to keep up the conversation with her children, Théodwyn’s expression had grown tense as she waited for Éomund to return to the table. His expression remained neutral as he approached, but there was a fire burning in his eyes, one that she knew all too well. She knew he would be riding out, and soon.
Standing, she put her hand on her husband’s arm to lead him back into the corner where he had spoken to the messenger.
He gave a small nod as he looked at her, answering her unasked question and confirming her fears. “Orcs have been spotted, fleeing toward the north east. Just a small band, it seems, easy to catch, but I cannot allow them to run free through the Eastfold.”
Her voice was low, so only he could hear her. “Éomund… Must you go?”
“Of course I do. I have an obligation, to the king and to the people. “
“I know, love, but…” She paused, and put her other hand on his other arm. “I fear… something terrible will happen. To you. I feel it…”
Éomund pulled her close and kissed her forehead, then lifted her chin with one finger so he could look in her eyes. “I will be fine, my heart.”
Théodwyn tightened her grip on his arms, but her voice was still low enough that only he would hear her words. “Éomund… I know of your duty, and have ever supported you in it. But this once, this one time, please, do not go. Send your men to protect the people, but let Bernulf lead them…”
He gave a small shake of his head. “What reason could I give to not ride with the men, Théodwyn? They can see that I am not ill… nor you, or the children.”
She looked down for a moment and was silent as she thought.
When looked up at him again her eyes were pleading. “Is there not a rider whose leadership you need to have evaluated? Could Bernulf not ride as your eyes and report back to you?”
But even as she spoke she knew it was futile to try to keep him from riding. The fire was still in his eyes, and she knew that he would never consent to sitting in the hall, idle, while his men rode to battle. He stood before her, but she knew a part of his mind was already making plans and weighing options for how to ensure victory.
Once more he shook his head gently, but his voice was firm. “I must go, Théodwyn. You know this.”
For a long moment she simply stood there, her hands still clutching his arms, but then at last she gave a deep sigh, and nodded. “Aye, I know it well, Éomund.” She gave a weak attempt at a smile. “You would not be the man that I love if you did not take your duties to heart, But… promise me that you will exercise caution? I have heard stories of how rash you can be when fighting, especially when fighting those creatures.”
He laughed softly, and lowered his forehead to rest on hers. “The Riders gossip more than the old hens at their sewing.” He lifted his head, and again tipped her face up so he could look in her eyes. “I will do what I must to protect our people, and my family. But I give you my word that I will do all in my power to return to you, my love.” He kissed her gently, “My lady.” Another kiss. “My wife.”
Théodwyn released one hand from his arm, and used it to pull his head down for a kiss that was fierce, and bordered on desperation. Many of the Riders that were gathering by the doors were grinning widely by the time she released him.
A quick glance and a raised brow from the marshal sent the watching men hurrying out the door into the cool autumn air.
Éomund looked at his wife once more, and kissed her quickly on the cheek. “I must prepare. Every minute we delay lets them get further away.”
She nodded and tried again to smile. “I will have the cup ready for you.”
Éomund turned, and strode from the hall towards their quarters.
Glancing towards the door to the kitchens, Théodwyn saw that Ingvild had already brought the richly carved cup and a skin of wine and left them on the serving table. She looked at them for a long moment before returning to the table where her children sat watching. She sat in her place again, and before she was even fully settled Éomer was asking her “The men are going to ride, aren’t they. After orcs? Where are they going?”
Théodwyn looked across the table at him, and was shocked to see the fire that she had just seen burning in Éomund’s eyes was also in those of his eleven year old son. She took a quick breath as a new fear gripped her heart.
Éomer seemed to realize that he had been overly eager and fell silent.
Reaching out to put her arm around Éowyn, Théodwyn nodded. “Yes, they are riding as quickly as they can be ready.” She sighed. “Orcs have been sighted in the Eastfold, and your father has to protect our people.”
Éowyn looked at her mother with wide eyes, as if she sensed some of her mother’s fear. “But Papa will return, won’t he? He always says that orcs are little more than animals, and present less challenge than a boar...”
Éomer scoffed before his mother could form an answer. “Of course he will! No orcs could even come close to hitting him. Not Father. He will destroy them all and be home singing the songs of victory before you know it.”
Éowyn’s concern turned into a grin at Éomer ’s enthusiastic reply, and even Théodwyn smiled through her fears as she replied, “Bema grant that be true.”
Rising again, she continued speaking to her son. “Why don’t you go see if you can help your father with his preparations, Éomer.”
Éomer stood quickly with a muttered “Yes, Mother.” He strode to the door separating the hall from the family quarters eagerly, and Théodwyn was again startled to realise how much he looked like Éomund as he walked away.
Giving Éowyn’s shoulders a light squeeze she asked, “Éowyn, will you come and help me prepare the farewell cup for your father?”
Éowyn looked up at her mother again, her eyes wide once more as she nodded. “Yes, Mama.”
It was the first time she had been invited to help with the ceremony. When they reached the serving table she stood by her mother’s side solemnly as she watched everything that was done, and at her mother’s urging she carefully echoed the traditional blessings spoken as the wine was poured into the cup.
They had barely finished when Éomund returned to the hall, with Éomer following him and carrying his bedroll proudly. Bernulf, as Éomund’s second, joined them as they crossed to Théodwyn and Éowyn .
Théodwyn turned when she heard their footsteps and smiled warmly at her husband as he approached. She lifted the cup with both hands when he stood before her, and smiled as she held it out to him.
“Fare you well, Éomund.” she said. “Receive now this cup and drink in happy hour. Health be with thee at thy going and coming!” 1
Éomund took the cup from her and drank deeply before returning it to her hands. When he started to step back, Théodwyn gave a very small shake of her head and he stopped.
Crouching down, Théodwyn carefully passed the lightened cup to her daughter, and gave her a few words of whispered instruction. The girl nodded, then stepped forward and offered the cup and blessing to Éomund again.
Éomund’s face remained solemn, but Théodwyn saw that the wrinkles around his eyes deepened slightly, as they would when he smiled.
He took the cup a second time, and drank again before passing it back to his daughter with a smile and a small nod. Éowyn smiled back proudly, then let her mother take the cup in order to offer it to Bernulf as well.
Théodwyn drained the cup to complete the ceremony, and then placed it back on the table. After nodding respectfully to her, Bernulf stepped away and exited the hall to ensure that the riders were prepared.
Giving his wife a reassuring smile, Éomund bent down enough to pick up Éowyn in one arm. He gave a loud groan as he stood. “My little girl is not so little anymore! I may not be able to carry you this way much longer, Éowyn.”
Putting her arm around his neck, Éowyn held on to her father tightly. “Then will I be big enough to learn how to use a sword?”
Éomund’s laugh carried through the hall, but Théodwyn still heard Éomer’s quiet scoff before her husband spoke again. “Well, let me see. You are seven now, are you not?”
Éowyn nodded vigorously.
“I seem to recall that Éomer started learning the sword when he was seven. Maybe in the Spring…”
“But, Papa, that’s months away!”
He chuckled. “It is too cold for you to spend much time outside, Éowyn, and you know your mother’s rule about playing with swords in the hall.” He gave a sidelong look at Éomer as he spoke, and grinned when the boy’s cheeks flushed.
Éowyn sighed, but then nodded. “Yes, Papa.”
Giving his daughter a wink, Éomund put his other arm around Théodwyn’s waist. Together they followed Bernulf towards the doors, Éomer falling into step at his father’s side. The family often walked together in this way when Éomund was to leave, and Théodwyn took great comfort in the routine.
Once they were through the doors and standing on the covered porch that separated the hall from the yard before it Éomund set Éowyn on her feet and crouched before her. “I know I do not have to tell you to be good for your Mama, and to help her all you can while I am away, Éowyn.” When she nodded he kissed her brow lightly. “I love you, my little shieldmaiden.”
Éowyn giggled, as she always did when he addressed her this way, but threw her arms around him, “I love you, too, Papa.”
He engulfed her in his arms for a moment, then released her with a wide smile and stood. Turning to face Éomer he put both hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I leave you as the head of the family, my son, but you know to listen to your mother and do as she asks you.”
Éomer nodded gravely. “Yes, sir.”
Éomund grinned, and moved one hand to ruffle Éomer’s hair affectionately before pulling him into an embrace. “I love you, Éomer. And I’m proud of you.”
When he released Éomer the boy was red faced, but though he ducked his head and made a show of smoothing his hair he couldn’t completely hide his pleased grin.
Finally Éomund turned to Théodwyn, and for a long moment they simply looked at one another. Then Théodwyn stepped to him and wrapped her arms around him, hiding her face in the curve of his neck. He pulled her still closer and rested his cheek against her hair for the passing of several heartbeats.
Finally he brought his lips to her ear and whispered a few words to her. She replied with a weak laugh, then pulled away and smiled up at him warmly as she cupped his face with both her hands.
“Remember your promise, Éomund. Return to me.”
He smiled, and lowered his head to kiss her. “I will, Théodwyn.”
For another moment they stood there unmoving, but then he dropped his arms and she her hands, and he turned to walk off the porch, whistling to call his men to order.
A few moments later they rode out from the yard, twelve men altogether, and once beyond the gates in the sheltering walls they urged their horses into a gallop and were quickly gone from sight.
1 – This is, of course, a direct quote from The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien, Chapter 6 "The King of the Golden Hall."