Title: Rider of the Mark
Author: ZeeDrippyVessel
Type: FPHet
Rating: NC-17
Cast: Gamling. Other miscellaneous (hah!) Rohirrim. There are occasionaly elves running through here...
Beta: Alex and Dame Niamh
Disclaimer: It ain't mine!!!! nada!!!Gamling and Cohorts belong to the powerful and Mighty JRRT and PJ. No money, no assets, no life apparently! Aefre and Willan are mine. So are the horses!
Time: From late TTT into ROTK and beyond.

Dedication: To the seasoned woman, who isn't perfect. We deserve love too.

Many thanks to Nove for her insight to the Rohirrim and to Dame who has faithfully bounced this bunny with me for several months getting it into shape.

Also, much love and respect back to Bruce Hopkins, who brought this wonderful character to life. I didn't make Gamling sexy, Sunshine; you did.

***

Rider of the Mark 01

So there were these Hobbits, see? ?


***

The fortress at Helm's Deep had almost been lost.

Despite the Elves led by that arrogant March Warden in his Shoot Me Please Red Cloak, despite the Ranger, despite it all...

It had almost fallen.

Blown apart by magics unknown; the look on Théoden King's face, aghast; shocked. Gamling knew what was going through his Lord's mind.

*No!*

*My people...*

Slowly, they had been beaten back, almost into submission. There had been no way for the women and children to escape.

Trapped.

In a last ditch attempt, the Ranger had persuaded Théoden King to ride out one last time. To ride to Glory.

To Death.

Even Gamling had to admit, the timing was exquisite. As they had ridden down the embankment, riding over Uruk hai after Uruk hai, the sun had risen in the east, bringing the Grey Pilgrim, the Riders of the Riddermark.

Éomer.

The glare of the sun was blinding, glinting off the burnished steel of armor and swords. And almost too quickly, it was over.

The flag of the White Hand flew no more.

The Rohirrim had gathered and buried their dead, their heroes. They had buried the Elves, had gone to great pains to mark their graves carefully. Théoden, Éomer, and Gamling had watched as Legolas, Gimli and the Ranger personally laid the Elf, Haldir, beneath one of the few trees in the valley.

They burned the Uruk hai. They burned their bodies, their clothing; spread the ashes to nourish the soil. They did not burn or dispose of their armor or weapons - no, those were too precious a commodity to destroy, and so they kept them. They would be scrubbed , refurbished, melted down if necessary and reworked. For the glory of Rohan.

Then they made their weary way home, back to Edoras. Home to rebuild, to grieve.

Home to await the summons of Gondor.

***

Gamling sat, drenched to the under linings of his leggings.

***Damned, hairy-footed Halflings! Dancing on the table!***

"Why scowl you?" The grizzled woman serving him set another tankard of ale in front of him. The Captain of the Rohirrim grabbed it and sank his nose deep within the brim.

"Damned thing kicked my last one in my lap! I am soaked to the skin!" He took a deep pull.

***Béma! Here they come again.*** He leaned back, bringing the tankard with him, as Merry and Pippin made another drunken pass on the table.

The old woman - Eldywythe - gave him a toothless grin. "Ye won't want to be sleeping in that mess. Go to the bathhouse, m'lord."

Gamling's nose was still deep in the tankard. "And leave such auspicious company?" His eyes rose to meet hers. "Think of the fun I would miss!" He did not sound as if he thought he would be missing any.

"I hear women are aiding in the baths..." Eldywythe crooned.

Gamling never removed his nose from his tankard. "I take your daughter is there?"

The old woman straightened up, a scowl to match his on her face. Ah. He hit a nerve. So many women were widowed. Too many. Although many grieved, they sought protection. Those that thought themselves too old to marry, were pushing their daughters into the arms of the few available men. Confirmed bachelors were suddenly eyeing young maidens...

Gamling propped his foot on his bedroll. What was the point, men suddenly wanting a girl or woman to wive? Career soldiers did NOT marry, especially when there were so many willing wenches. He, himself, was a Marshal of the Riddermark; Théoden King's right arm, captain of the First Army.

Sweet young things, however...

Marriage. Bah! Not when there was a war to be fought.

***This war is not over. Not by any means!***

Still. Sweet young things...

***Sweet things...

Young things...

Things...

In the baths...

With soap...

Hmmmm.***

Gamling buried his nose again in the tankard. The war was not over, there as no need to rush into something... permanent.

Yet.

***Soap. In the hands of a sweet, young thing...

Thing...***

He stood up, bringing the tankard with him.

There was a quiet spot in the corner, close to the fireplace. He had already had enough toasting of the dead, Béma take them swiftly on his wings to the houses of their fathers. A good night's sleep would do him good. He leaned over to pick up his bedroll...

Only to remember his leggings were plastered to his working, moving parts in the most uncomfortable way.

He would wake up stiff and dry and...

A bath. At this hour.

He looked longingly at the spot in front of the huge fire. Perhaps, if he was quick, he would get himself cleaned, wash out his leggings and could be back before the spot was taken.

Right. And someday, Mearas would fly!

Sweet things in the baths. Sometimes, they had warm spots, close to where the pots boiled constantly. An additional body in his bedroll would only make things nicer.

Cozier.

Sweet young things.

Things.

'Gamling.' That nasty little voice in his head went off. 'She might be ugly.'

Well, if she was ugly, he could always close his eyes. It was night; it was dark in the Golden Hall, and he didn't have to look at her. He refilled his tankard, just in case, and as he threw on his cloak and shouldered his bedroll, he watched in disgusted glee as the two dancing Hobbits kicked yet another tankard of ale in Éomer's lap.

***

Early spring had not yet arrived at the Riddermark. Cold winds blew from the mountains, whipping his green mantle about him with the snapping crispness of dried leaves. He was damned proud of that cloak; had gone through Melkor's Caves and back to earn it. He had sacrificed much, worked hard as a gangly boy, worked hard to improve, to understand the workings of defense and leadership. He had dug out his fair share of horse dung and cleaned many a trough. That Théoden King trusted him, he had no doubt and the craggy soldier would willingly lay down his life to protect his King.

The baths were in a largish wooden shed, attached to the back of the Golden Hall, near the kitchens, and as he made his way around, he could hear the giggling of the women inside; low murmurings of men. Sweet thing or no sweet thing, he wanted to get this mess off him and get out of his clothes. Again, the thought crossed his mind to hurry back to gain a spot in front of the fire; his clothes would dry overnight.

***Sweet, young things...

Sweet...

Things...***

Great Harpy of Helm's Dike, would that incessant voice in his head never be quiet? He threw open the door of the baths and made his way in.

The baths, for lack of a better word, were really troughs; giant, wooden troughs. Many lanterns and globes hung from the rafters and sat on rocks, giving the place subdued light. Some nervous soul had hung great bolts of cloth and leather from the rafters, separating one from another, giving the bather privacy.

Gamling scoffed at the thought - privacy. So little of it in the ranks. He normally bathed in the river, with the other men; who never thought anything of shielding themselves. Shyness was for women-

***Sweet...

Young...

Things...***

For some reason, a compliant, soft body in his bedroll was looking better and better. He made his way towards the furthest empty stall, clicking his fingers at the huge troll of a man in the back to begin filling up the tub. He set his bedroll and his pack high on a shelf; the last thing he wanted was for those to get wet. He was toeing the heels of his boots when the troll and another man began to carry steaming buckets into the stall. Eyeing the water as it began to fill the trough, he considered throwing his clothes in as well, but decided to let them wait until he was done bathing the grime and ale from his body and then toss them in. It wouldn't be the first time he had placed his clothing to dry in front of the fire at night.

The heated water was rising higher and higher in the trough.

Sweet, young things.

He scratched his beard. That could do with a bit of washing too. Some women weren't picky, but he was. If the girl looked as if she needed washing, well, he would just pull her in with him.

"Are you going to get in or not? I've got better things to do than to wait for a man who is scared of the water!"

Gamling turned abruptly at the rich alto that invaded his thoughts. All musings of sweet, young things rose and disappeared through the hole in the roof, along with the steam rising from his trough.

She was not sweet. Nor was she young.

She wasn't a witch, or old.

She was a ... something.

That's it. She was a something.

The woman stood, fists on her hips. She was neither short or tall, young or old, beautiful or ugly. He might have considered her passing fair, had she not been scowling. He recognized her; one of the serving wenches flitting here and there. Gamling would have continued to stare at her except she rushed to him and spun him around.

"I swear! Men! You can't do a thing without help!" Her arms went around his waist. "It's a wonder that you can even dress yourselves for battle!" Thud! His leather belt and scabbard were tossed to the side, discarded like last year's beard trimmings. Her hands went to the hammered clasp at his throat.

"No!" Suddenly, the reticent Rohirrim came to life. "You'll not-"

"Not what?" The green cloak slid from his shoulders, and he watched her deftly fold the rich fabric, hands meticulously respectful to the emblem emblazoned on it. Eyes as dark and as rich as the dirt in the farmlands gazed up at him. "Afraid I will drop it? I know well the pride one such as you would take in this." She moved away, carefully placing the mantle high on the shelf. She gave it a longing pat before turning back to him. "What? Do I have to undress you too?"

Despite his earlier musings, Gamling suddenly felt the blush of embarrassment spread over his cheeks. "No, I do not need your help." Staring her in the eye, he pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it on the floor.

"I don't suppose you'll be washing your clothing as well?"

Fantasies of a sweet, young thing in his bedroll this night were fast dissipating.

"Yes," he spat tersely, "I will be washing my clothing." His hands moved to the lacings of his leggings. "After I finish with me."

He expected her to turn her back, go elsewhere to retrieve soaps and what not, but instead, she stood, arms crossed and hip cocked, and stared him in the eye as he peeled the sticky wool from his legs. He dropped the clammy, smelling leggings on top of his tunic, leaving himself standing in only his drawers and skin.

Her eyes never left his face. "You have a nicely turned ankle for a man."

Gamling cocked an eyebrow at that. Maybe at least a sweet thing was back on for occupancy in his bedroll. She didn't have to be young. Sometimes, a little seasoning was better than-

"You appear to have had a run - in with a tankard of ale, m'lord." Her eyes raked down over him and she was grinning mischievously.

***Looks like you are back on for a lonely night in the bedroll.***

"Try two Halflings dancing on the table." He went around to the trough in a vain, unconscious attempt to cover himself while he pulled off the linen undergarment. He stepped quickly into the tub, strangely grateful when he saw her back was turned as he settled into the steaming water.

"I heard about them. Full of life, they are. Here." The woman set a largish, steaming bucket down in the corner of the stall. She picked up his clothes and set them in it. "They get cleaner in water that hasn't been bathed in."

"Thank ye-."

Gamling's gracious acceptance of her thoughtfulness was drowned as a bucket of water was unceremoniously dumped over his head. His hands gripped the sides of the tub as he angrily shook the wet mass from his face.

"Béma's... balls, woman! The least you could do was give a man some warning!"

The Horse Lord felt a solid thump across the back of his head. "My apologies, m'lord! You're in a bath, you should expect a dunkin'!" Another whack. "Do not swear around me!"

Before he could respond, he felt her hands in his hair, a soft bar of soap in one. "Damn you. I know women that would kill for this mass of hair and you treat it like a curtain."

Against his wishes, Gamling felt himself relaxing into the gentle kneading of her fingers. "It's hair. What should I do with it? Wear it up in ribbons?"

Unbeknownst to him, the woman behind him smiled at his joke.

"Like a woman? I think not." She had lathered it up and was contemplating the suds. "No soft-smelling softling are you." Her voice dropped down several notches. "My husband used to let me wash his hair. It was one of the few luxuries we enjoyed together."

Gamling stiffened slightly. "Used to?"

She removed her fingers from his hair and again, he was doused in warm water.

"Aye. I'm widowed. And no, I'm not looking for a husband."

***Sweet thing back in the bedroll! Make that saucy thing...***

"Lean forward."

Strong fingers worked the kinks in his back, his neck; knots he had forgotten about, that he had gotten used to... wasn't a man supposed to have a pain right... there?

The hands now moved forward, over his shoulders, to his chest. Muscles and erogenous zones long unattended immediately came to life. Slowly, the warrior moved his head to the side, allowing her free rein to his neck and pectoral muscles.

It felt right nice.

"So," he looked her from the corner of his eye, "do you want me to stand, so you can pay such close attention to the rest of me?"

For a moment, time stood still as she cocked her head and contemplated the unspoken offer from the highly ranked soldier.

Then soap was flung, hard into the water, stinging suds splashing into Gamling's face. His hands went to his eyes.

"No, m'lord. Allow me!" A bucket of cold water splashed over him, cooling any ardor he was feeling. He heard the bucket bounce as it was flung to the floor. "Wash your own bloody arse!" By the time he got the water from his eyes, all that was left of her was the breeze of cool air from the curtain swinging madly.

***Lonely night in front of the fireplace. Fine.***

Except when he finally got bathed, his clothes cleaned, redressed himself and got his bedroll and gear rolled up, and got back to the Golden Hall, the nice warm spot in front of the fireplace was taken.

In fact, all the good spots had been taken.

Gamling shook his head in ire and headed to the next warmest place he knew.

Outside, down the hill, towards the lower end of Edoras.

To the stables.

"Move over, Dréogan!" He slung his gear into the corner and proceeded to drape his wet clothing on the stall door. His horse looked over his shoulder, munching on timothy hay, the look in his eye clear to his Rider.

*What? You again?*

Taking special care to hang the cloak of his rank high off the floor, Gamling flipped out his bedroll and moved into the far corner of the stall, on a mound of relatively clean straw, away from the tail end of his horse.

While the Marshal meticulously spread his roll, he felt a gentle prod at his hip. He never turned around; simply reached to the pouch tied to his waist and pulled out the apple.

"You're spoiled, you know. You're a brute, stubborn and you refuse to neck rein! Give me one reason to keep you?"

As if to answer, Dréogan blew timothy - sweetened breath, ruffling the still damp strands of hair that lay on Gamling's shoulder. Nickering softly, he grabbed the apple from the Horse Lord's hand and ambled to the opposite side of the stall, giving his Rider all the room he could give him.

"Spoiled rotten!"

The brazier in the middle of the stable belched, but at least it was warm and dry. Gamling settled in for yet another long night with his closest friend.

***
tbc
***

Rider of the Mark 02

Whose bed have your boots been under?

***

"Gamling. Attend me."

The Horse Lord stretched his neck, trying to work out the crick that had wormed its way back into it. The thought flittered through his mind to find the saucy bath wench to work her magic fingers, but he dismissed the notion quickly. He did an about face in order to fall into place back slightly to the left of his King's shoulder.

"Sire."

Théoden King might have been ill and incapacitated during Grima Wormtongue's stint as advisor to the king, but his lordship had regained his strength quickly. He moved as a man driven to correct the wrongs done in his name and the blue eyes missed very little. With a swiftness that belied his many years, the king wove through the labyrinth of people in the Golden Hall, through the halls and into his private chambers.

Despite the coolness of the air outside, the chamber itself was warm and inviting. Furs were piled on the large bed, heavy tapestries hung on the walls, blocking the winds that constantly blew and sometimes howled around the mountain that Edoras was built on. Heavy rugs and carpets covered the stone floor. A fire crackled in the large hearth, giving additional warmth to the room. Wormtongue had not allowed large fires to be lit, claiming they made the King fretful, over-heated and ill, when in fact, the lack had kept him chill and vulnerable to ague and other sickness that plagued the elderly. One of the first things he had done, once the creature had been ejected from Edoras, was to have every fireplace and hearth lit to capacity. Théoden poured himself and Gamling a goblet of mead, offering one to the younger man, before striding over to the large window and pulling aside the heavy curtain.

"What am I to do with them?" He gestured to the small tent city that had sprung up just outside the city walls. "Refugees. Women and children. No homes to go and too few men to rebuild."

Gamling came behind Théoden and looked over to the makeshift village. "They are not safe there. "

The king took a long pull from the tankard and wiped his mouth on the back of his tunic sleeve. "No, they are not. We need to come up with a solution for the widows and elderly. I cannot imagine the number of orphans. Do you have any suggestions as to what we might do to aid them?"

Gamling's eyes roamed over the colorful bits of cloth that dotted the countryside. "You wish my counsel?"

The king turned from the window, dropping the heavy length of fabric back into place. "Your advice has always been sound." As he made his way to his table, he set the tankard down gently and spread out a rolled scroll - a map of Gondor and Rohan. "I will be much in need of sound advice in the weeks to come," the king stated wearily. "There are few here I trust as I trust you."

Gamling set his tankard down on the opposing side of the table. "Me, milord? Why? Gandalf the Grey-"

"Gandalf, the White, Gamling." Théoden lifted a single finger to correct the Rider. "The White. This Gandalf is not the Stormcrow we have known nor that our fathers knew. This Gandalf is different; he has an agenda in which we are just players and stepping stones." His eyes roamed back over the map, his hands smoothing out the curling edges. "He brings the Ranger; a man he believes is the lost King of Gondor."

Gamling mulled over this information. "Sire, forgive me, but to the best of my recollection, Gondor has been over seen by-"

"The Stewards. Yes. For many years. I remember sitting on my mother's knee and eventually I sat at her feet, and listened to her regale my siblings and myself with tales about the brave and noble kings of the Numenor and Gondor. I remember her quietly admonishing me to remember my place, remember the promises made to Gondor and not to be like my grandfather, Fengel." Théoden refilled his tankard, not to drink from it, but to contemplate the swirling liquid held within. "Long have the Stewards of Gondor ruled in place of their absent king. Denethor will not easily accept this upstart Dunedain, if at all."

"Perhaps, Gandalf is wrong?"

For a few moments, the only sound to be heard was the crackling and popping of wood in the fireplace. Finally, Théoden sighed and set his mug down. "No, he is not. That Ranger is the lost King of Gondor. Gamling; Théoden, King of Rohan, did not win the battle of Helm's Deep-"

"Sire-"

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Ranger of the Dunedain and King of Gondor, won the battle of Helm's Deep." The elderly man stood, straightening slowly. "Do not deny it, Gamling. I was a figurehead, nothing more."

Gamling's mind flew. It was capable of such, even for all his friends and cohorts teasing him of his careful, methodical ways. That his King would think...

"Milord!" Gamling unsheathed his sword and kneeling before the standing king, offered the sword with bowed head. "My allegiance is to Théoden King, to Rohan, my duty, my fealty, my sword is yours, not to Gondor!"

He felt the king touch his head. "Of course it is, Gamling of the Westemnet. That is why you are here and not Gandalf or Aragorn. Rise, my friend." He stepped back, allowing Gamling room to stand. "And sheath your weapon. Someone will come in and think you wish my head." The Horse Lord's eyes jerked to Théoden's, relieved to see the humor in his visage. As the Horse Lord stood, Théoden's eyes narrowed. "Gamling. Where did you sleep last night?"

Gamling was carefully putting his sword back in his scabbard. "Why, milord?"

"You have-" the King reached, dusting a lock of hair, "-straw behind your ear."

Nervously, the tall Rider combed his fingers through the locks, dislodging more straw bits. "The stables, milord."

"You slept in the stables? Not the barracks? Or in the Great Hall?"

Gamling sighed, looking slightly disgusted. "By the time I returned from the baths, there was no room in front of the fire. The barracks are empty and therefore cold. I chose the warmest place I knew."

"Sleeping with your horse?" Théoden shook his head. "We must remedy that." The king slowly strode around the table. "I am in need of someone to advise me, someone who is loyal to Rohan. I will not allow our people to be a stepping stone to another's kingdom. I do not totally trust the Istari. It will be difficult for me if my left hand is sleeping in the stables."

"Sire?"

Théoden sat and motioned for Gamling to sit as well. "Don't look at me as if I've grown another head. You are my most trusted captain, a Marshal of the Riddermark. You should not be sleeping with that brute you call a mount!"

Gamling was taken slightly aback. As problematic as Dréogan was, he was still a-"

"Gamling. Dréogan is a fine steed. Not many would have your patience, however." The Marshal relaxed, realizing his king was not ridiculing his horse. " I will check with Eowyn, see what rooms are available. By dinner, you are to move your gear and belongings into the Great Hall."

Gamling choked on his mead. He? A lowly soldier? Residing in the Great Hall?

"Sire, the Hall is reserved for the royal family, for great nobles, and Rohan's guests. It is not my place to reside here."

Théoden's hand began to press at the edges of the rolled map on the table. Meticulously, he laid books, heavy things on the edges.

"I do not trust our guests to aid me in making decisions that are in the best interests of Rohan. Things that concern me, do not concern them." The edges laid, the king now lanced the younger man with the simple act of staring. "I trust you. I remember your advice is always sound and sure."

Gamling's boot scraped against the thick rug under his foot, as he fidgeted with the handle of his mug. "Sire. Please. Wouldn't …omer be a better choice? I am but a simple soldier."

Théoden grinned, the shadows of the mischievous boy lurking about the edges of his mouth. "Simple? You? You are anything but simple. …omer," the king flicked his finger over the map, " is loyal to Rohan. As he needs to be." A glimmer of pain flashed over his features. "He is now my heir, the next king of Rohan." For a moment, the king's eyes were closed, taking in the pain of the still fresh loss of his son. "He also has a quick temper and worries much over his sister." Slowly, the Lord of Rohan stood up, making his way behind his servant. "You are loyal to me before Rohan." His hand patted Gamling's shoulder.

"Sire, you ARE Rohan."

He could hear Théoden's dry chuckle behind him. "Your loyalty is well-noted and you will be rewarded for it. I desire your judgment, your opinion in many things. I need your eyes, your ears closer to me than to your horse. I will speak with Eowyn. She will know where to put you." The king's hands patted him reassuringly, before coming around to the opposing side of the table. "There is one other thing."

"Yes, sire?"

Théoden looked troubled, as if he was trying hard to remember a sliver of information, far removed. "Before... before Grima invaded my mind, I received a message of some importance. I did not have time to dwell on, much less remedy the situation." Slowly, he perused the map, his fingers tracing to the northern edge of Rohan. "There was a disagreement between families. A childless widow was being refused home or residence by either family. They each claimed she was the other's responsibility. As a final resort, she contacted me, asking for aid, for an answer to her problem."

Gamling shrugged. "That is simple, milord. She should remarry."

Théoden smiled mirthlessly. " It is not so easy as that. I knew Aefre and her brother, Beadorouf. I rode many times with their father, Finan. He was a loyal subject and fought with great courage. I remember summoning her here before my infirmity, but I know nothing else."

Gamling set his tankard down and was pinching his nose. A headache had come on quickly and suddenly, the heat and smoke from the fireplace was over-whelming.

"I realize I am asking a lot, but could you ask around, see if she ever arrived. And if she did not, possibly find out what happened."

Gamling's eyes were squeezed tight. What he was being asked to do was next to impossible. "Where was she from, milord? I will do what I can."

Théoden smiled. "I knew I could count on you. She is from The Wold. Aefre of The Wold."

***

Gamling stared at the room in horror.

***Here? His Liege had put him here?***

On one hand, it was too large, too grand, for a simple soldier such as he. On the other...

***Here? Why in all of Béma's glory had he put him here in this room?***

On the other...

Gamling dropped his gear in the doorway, looking into the grandiose room. He ran his fingers through his hair and realized he was sick to his stomach.

The bed was huge, covered with piles of furs left from the previous occupant, the walls covered with strange pelts. He was quite frankly afraid to step in, terrified of what he might find on the desk, in the drawers, on the shelves. After all, the man had left in a dreadful hurry. In fact, he had aided him tremendously in his rushed departure.

"Argh." It was a quiet groan and he dropped his face into his hands, rubbing hard. Of all the rooms to put him in.

He wondered if it would be considered rude if he told Théoden he would rather sleep in the stables.

Grima Wormtongue.

The room had a stench, a trace of a foul odor; there was no way in all of the Riddermark, he was going to stay-

"Move over, you big clod! You are here much too fast!"

Gamling felt himself roughly shoved to the side, the chambermaid forcing her way in. She stood with her back to him, fists on hips.

"Bah! They should have stripped and burned the contents of this room when they removed that loathsome creature!" She cocked her head to the side, as if to listen. "Is there anything in here you wish to have?"

"I think I prefer the stable." He tucked his helmet under his arm and picked up his gear. "Do not clean it on my behalf."

"Oh, cease your pitiful whining. The king himself ordered the room for you and you shall have it!" She looked the chamber over and turned...

"I should have known!"

"You!"

They said it at the same time, both staring in shock. She at the overly-fresh Rider and he at the...

***Sweet thing***

***Thing***

... bath wench with the...

***saucy***

magic fingers and...

***Thing***

Gamling shook his head, determined to clear it of cloying thoughts and fantasies. He started to back out of the room. "I will tell the king-"

"You'll tell the king what? That the room isn't good enough?" She scowled and strode over, yanking the helmet from under his arm. "As manner - less as you are, I'll not see you swing for impertinence!" Reverently, she laid the helmet on a chair and went to the window. She yanked the curtain back and opened the heavy shutters. Hooking the curtain around a wall hook, she turned to survey the room. "I take it you want nothing that is in the room?"

"I do not wish the room."

She looked up at the soldier and grinned.

It took his breath away. Ten years dropped from her face and her eyes shone with an almost child-like glee. "I don't think you have much choice, but if you like, I can make it as if that crumb of a man was never here. You will be sleeping like a lamb in that bed." She walked the perimeter of the room, ticking off things as she went. "I've opened the window, that should clear the odor. We will get rid of the personal effects... you don't want his clothing, do you? I thought not." The woman stood in front of him and ... measured him with her hands. "He was not as sturdy or broad as you." She peered up. "Not as tall either. You're a fine specimen of a man, I'll give you that."

***what?***

"... rid of the clothing, the linens. I'll need help turning the mattress or better yet, I'll have Willan come up and exchange it. And the rugs... the rugs... Oh, Mother of all that is wise... look at the dust! I swear! That man never let anyone in to clean, it is just..."

***She talks a lot. Béma, does the woman ever shut up?***

He watched, stunned, as the woman went through the room, moving things, taking inventory. She pulled aside a curtain, revealing a small room.

"Excuse me?"

She began to screech - a rather painful sound. Apparently, no one had dumped the chamber pot.

The stable was really looking better and better.

And her faaaaar away from it!

She came barreling out of the antechamber.

"Well, that was just disgusting!"

"Excuse me?"

"I will have to find something to remove the odor from the room. That is just horrible."

"Excuse me!" Gamling stood in front of her and barred her way. She did have the decency to look mildly set back and properly... well... not admonished, but, well she was quiet.

***thing, saucy, magical fingers thing***

Gamling rubbed his head with a single finger. "Last night, bathhouse."

"Yes."

"Today, chamber maid."

"Yes."

His eyes were squeezed shut against the bright sunlight streaming in from the window. "Am I missing something, a connection here?"

"Yes."

One eye popped open. "Care to explain?"

"No."

Gamling's hand went from his forehead, to the back of his neck; his eyes squeezed shut again. Had he been looking, he would have seen a look of worry cross the woman's face. He didn't see her remove his helmet from the chair as she shoved him into it.

"You sit there. I'll bring you up some bread and cheese and possibly some mulled wine, if I can sneak into the storeroom. Oh, hold on..."

He heard her go to the doorway and call to another chambermaid, requesting the food and drink and to send Willan, whoever Willan was, up to her. By the time she had returned, his head was in his hands, headache raging.

"May I ask a rather stupid question?"

"What do you wish to know, m'lord?" Ah! The magic fingers returned, searching for the knot, the tense muscles.

"Are you... assigned... to this chamber?"

***sweet, sweet, saucy thing with the fingers of the Valar oh please***

"I have been now."

***Oh gracious Béma thank you thing thing thing sweet thing yes yes right there***

"Do you have a name?"

Her thumbs circled up over his spinal column and he heard several vertebrae crack. The release of tension to his head was immediate and he felt himself sag in relief.

"Yes. My name is Aefre."

***
tbc
***

Rider of the Mark 03

The Classic Rohirrim Stumper; Horses - vs - Women.

***

***SweetSweetmagicfingersrightoooohrightthereisjust...***

"My name is Aefre."

***Bemathankyouthankyousweetple-***

Gamling's thoughts shattered in pieces, much as the wall of Helm's Deep had.

"Your name is... Aefre?"

"Yes. What is your name, m'lord?"

He answered without much thought. "Gamling. Just Gamling." Her fingers resumed their delightful dance on his neck and he allowed his body to rock with her ministrations, mind churning.

"Just Gamling then." Her thumbs pressed deeper. "You're stiffening up again. You need to relax."

Several moments passed.

"Aefre? Are you from the Wold?"

He heard her chuckle lightly. "Yes, I am. Is my accent that noticeable?"

Gamling scowled, groaning inwardly. Pulling away from her, he stood up and turned. "Lady Aefre of the Wold, the king has asked about your well-being. It is my duty to take you to him."

Aefre looked him as if he had grown a second head. Planting her fists on her hips, her grimace was tinged with exasperation. "If Théoden King has been asking after my well-being, tell him I'm fine. Right now, I have more important things to tend to."

***What?***

Aefre was looking over his shoulder and her eyes brightened. "Willan. Oh, I'm so glad you're here! I need your help."

Gamling turned to see the troll of a man who had been in the baths the night before, standing apishly in the doorway. The vexing woman made her way around the Horse Lord and stood before the seemingly dull - witted brute. "I need your help with clearing out this room." The troll - Willan - glared suspiciously at Gamling. "No, not him!" Aefre smacked him playfully on the shoulder. "He is moving in. We need to remove the stink of Master Wormtongue." From his facial expression, Willan apparently agreed with her. She moved about the room, gracefully, pointing out things she wished to have done. "We need to replace the mattress, take down the tapestries and have them cleaned, but the first thing is the antecha-"

"M'Lady, if I might -"

"-mber. I'm sorry Willan, but apparently Master Wormtongue has not allowed anyone in this room in ages and he left... well... I'm sorry to ask you to do such a loathsome task-"

"M'Lady, the king has expressed a deep-"

The two were circling each other, Aefre's back to the large Horse Lord, ignoring him, giving orders to the mute giant. No one seemed to realize that Willan, for all his supposed simplicity, was watching the dance with amused interest.

"May I please have a moment of your attention?" Gamling heavily placed his hand on Aefre's shoulder to cease her movement and turned her around.

She had the audacity to look put out.

Gamling shook his head and snorted. Women. Who could understand the strange creatures? He couldn't. They didn't behave like horses; they didn't pay attention or do things logically. Had any man in his command purposely ignored him when he spoke he would have found himself mucking stalls.

"Well?" Aefre snapped. "You have my attention, Sir Horse Lord! What is of such great importance that you must stop me from making your rooms habitable?" She looked at him expectantly.

***Her eyes were brown. Brown as the rich dirt of the farmland he had been raised on, deep
as-***

"I'm waiting." She tapped her foot impatiently.

Gamling inhaled sharply. "The King has asked of your whereabouts and has expressed worry for you. I shall take you to him."

Aefre laughed. No, laugh wasn't the right word.

She guffawed. A huge, joyous sound.

"Take me to him?" She patted him on the shoulder. "No, I am going to make this room habitable and you may tell him you have found me and I am fine!" She turned around and began to issue orders to Willan.

Willan actually looked sympathetic towards Gamling's predicament. With a well- practiced sigh, Gamling tapped her on the shoulder. As she spun around to bellow at him, he scooped her up and slung her like a sack of horse feed over his shoulder, knocking the wind from her lungs. He turned to the large man standing at the foot of the bed and gestured around the room. "You have your orders?"

Willan smiled and nodded his assent. As he turned to leave the room, Gamling could have sworn the mute... saluted.

Aefre found her lungs and proceeded to tell Gamling - and everyone else - exactly what she thought.

"You great oaf! What do you think you are doing?" She attempted to kick her way off the Horse Lord's shoulders. In order to keep her steady and secure, Gamling grabbed her backside and held her down.

"The king has charged me with your whereabouts. I am taking you to him."

"Get your hand off my backside, you great, hairy cretin!"

"Tell the Great Hall, while you are at it." Gamling mumbled. The Marshal was grimacing, scowling at anyone who crossed his path causing several serving women to step back, startled.

***Thingthingsweetbummagicfingersthingthingsweet...***

Aefre took no notice that she was being carried through the Great Hall, people staring at the Horse Lord striding so purposefully with a wench slung over his shoulder.

"You clod! You bonehead! Never in all my days have I come across such a dullard..." Her voice echoed beautifully in the rafters of the Golden Hall.

Four pairs of eyes watched closely.

"Is this a mating ritual I am unaware of, Aragorn?" Legolas asked quietly.

The Ranger watched as the Horse Lord carried the screaming woman towards the hall leading to the King's chambers. "It's not one that I'm aware of." He drew deeply on his pipe. "Although it does look... most intriguing."

"If I were him," Gimli nodded sagely, "I would be most reluctant to put her down!"

The volume of Aefre's screaming seemed to lessen. However, she began to hammer the Horse Lord around his rear-end. At least, Gamling thought she was smacking him. He could hear her smacking, the staccato sound punctuated by the continued verbal lambasting of his intelligence and personality, but the force was not making much headway through his tunic and leggings. Soon enough, he was outside Théoden's door, and kicking it open, he strode inside.

"Set me down, you boor!"

With a satiric grin, …omer looked up from the table, where he was going over maps with his uncle. "Showing off your fine catch, Gamling?"

***funnyfunnyharharyounglingbratitaughtyoutoride...***

The screeching again crescendoed from behind him. By the gods of the Riddermark, she could put the Horn of Hammerhelm to rest! Gamling decided to ignore her and leered at Théoden's heir.

"She leapt in my arms. What's a Rider to do? Perhaps I should throw her back?"

"I did no such thing! You ninny! You-"

"Don't you have a room you could take her to?" …omer used his knife to tack down a corner of the map he was studying and picked up his tankard. "Or did you want advice on your bedding technique?" He raised his mug to the Horse Lord with the screaming woman swung over his shoulder.

***technique? What business is it...***

"Gamling." Théoden had been standing by the fireplace, watching the exchange. "I know there is a reason you have brought a woman forcibly into my private chambers. Perhaps, you could tell me why?"

Gratefully, Gamling turned his attention from the young whelp at the table and carried the screaming woman, who now had suddenly decided to be quiet, bless the gods, to stand in front of the king. "My Lord, I give you Lady Aefre of the Wold."

Aefre made the mistake of deciding at that time to start wiggling anew, in an effort to free herself. That, combined with the fact that Gamling was attempting to set her on the floor, caused him to lose his grip and she landed with a thud on her backside, legs sprawled, facing the King of Rohan.

Two different hands presented themselves to assist her from the floor. She smacked away the hand that had brought her here and allowed Théoden to help her rise. "My Lord." She made her bow, a rather lady-like dip. She turned to hiss over her shoulder, "You are a warg - riding orc-"

Gamling's countenance darkened and Théoden moved quickly to stop the rising argument. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her away from his thunderous Marshal. "Please, Aefre, Gamling is one of my most trusted and valued warriors and Marshal. But I beg you do not insult his horse. Even I would be unable to stop the explosion." He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I need his level head in these most perilous times." Finding a comfortable chair, he turned her and set her in it. He glared at his still grinning nephew. "Go find your sister. I do not wish the lady to feel overwhelmed." …omer slowly stood up from the table. "Now, would be nice." The younger man heard the gentle, but steel - edged rebuke in his uncle's voice and with a slightly ashamed bow towards Aefre, …omer made his way to the door.

Only Gamling saw the age - old fist pump …omer made to him as he exited the room.

***Brat! And I handed you your first woman!***

He made to follow …omer, but Théoden stopped him, instructing him to pour three goblets of wine, one for each of them.

Théoden pulled a chair up towards Aefre and began to examine her hands. "You have the look of your grandmother."

"You remember her?" Aefre had gone from a howling harpy to a soft-spoken woman. The change was sudden and it made Gamling's mind reel.

Théoden was smiling. "I was much younger, but aye, I remember your formidable grandmother. She was from Gondor, near the same place as my mother."

That would explain her dark hair and eyes. Most from the Riddermark were fair and blue - eyed. In a way, it made her stand out, and Gamling admitted he found the effect slightly exotic.

Théoden was leaning towards her, smiling. "Would you like to hear a secret?" Aefre relaxed and nodded. "Your grandmother taught me some of the most colorful curses!"

Aefre was giggling, a light girlish sound. "She taught me a few as well." She looked down at the hands holding hers. "I loved her very much." Slowly, the smile slid from her face. "I miss her."

Théoden tightened his grip on her hands. "Doubtless, she would have had much to say over your situation, which we have need to discuss." He took the goblets from Gamling and handed her one. "I am sorry. I have been so very remiss in my duties."

"You were ill, sire. It was not your fault. …owyn was here when I arrived and she saw me settled."

As if hearing her name, …owyn pushed into the room, her brother at her heels.

"Aefre! I thought you were over-seeing that Gamling's rooms are set to rights."

Aefre's eyes met Gamling's, a heated, smoldering gaze that he answered like-wise. "I was informed that the king wished to see me."

He had to raise his goblet to her. Most women would be cowed in front of their liege. This one did not back down.

***hothothothergazewassweetsweetthingthingthinghthing***

Hmmm.

Théoden and …owyn both saw the exchange. Théoden decided to explore that later, However, now...

"…owyn, you knew of Lady Aefre's arrival?"

…owyn had the grace to blush slightly under her uncle's scrutiny. "It is not every day a woman shows up at the gates of Edoras on horseback, escorted by three retainers. You were... ill. Neither …omer nor Gamling were here, so I listened to her story and found her a place."

"There are two sides to every story, sire." Gamling examined the wine in his goblet. "Has anyone contacted the other party?"

Aefre immediately shot up to her feet. "You accuse me of twisting the truth? Then you are an Orc as well as an arse! Where were you when my home was overrun by lice-carrying miscreants? How dare you question my... you loathsome..."

***firefirefiredon'tplaywithfirebutitissomuchfunfirefirefire***

Somehow, Théoden calmed the irate woman, getting her to sit back down. She and Eowyn began to whisper, …owyn's voice soothing, Aefre's punctuated with sharp consonants and hissing. As he passed the Horse Lord, to refill his and her goblets, Théoden quietly admonished the man. "Gamling. Teasing a defenseless woman. Surely, your manners are better than that."

Feeling like a corrected child, Gamling dug his toes in his boots. "I am sorry sire, but she is -"

"Female. I know. We will discuss that later. Drink up and listen." Théoden sat again across from the woman and waited as she finished her second goblet of wine. "Aefre, what has happened? The last time I saw you was right after your wedding." His hand tightened on hers. "I was so saddened for your loss when Lufian was killed."

Aefre's eyes were lowered and …owyn removed the goblet from her hands, handing it to Gamling. "My marriage to Lufian was a good one. It strengthened ties between his and my father's house. We loved each other much. His loss was..." from somewhere another goblet of wine was pressed into her hands and she drank deeply. "I felt as if a part of me was ripped out. He was brought back alive, sire. It took him three long, horrible days to die." She became very quiet. "I found out later that my father and brother were also lost in that battle."

For several minutes, it was quiet while she finished her wine. Eowyn went to take her goblet, to refill it yet again, but Aefre shook her head. "No more. I will be useless the rest of the day." She refocused on Théoden. "My sister - in - law was pregnant and the loss of my brother hit hard. She gave birth early, but her son thrived. Lufian was an only child. I heard him speak of a few far removed cousins, but I never met them and they never came to visit. There were no messages from them. I governed his Hall, as I had when we were married."

"Imagine my surprise when four years after his death, his cousin Gifre arrived, informed us that he was the next male heir and displaced me. He appeared with a... gang of Riders. One moment, I had a home and the next, they were swiving my servants and I was told that if I wished a bed to sleep in, I would have to share it with him."

"Your guards did not repel him?" Gamling's question was soft spoken.

"There were more of them than of us. We were unprepared." She turned back to the king. "It had been four years. I quickly packed my things, managed to take the small things important to me. My serving women and I, along with what was left of my husband's Riders, made haste to my brother's home."

"I realized within a week what a mistake that was. Eadlyn seems to be a vapid, helpless creature. She is a weak chatelaine and when the servants began to ask me for guidance, she informed me that her home was not big enough for all - meaning me. She had her son's inheritance to look out for and the cost of my retinue was too staggering an amount. She suggested I return to my husband's hall and acquiesce to Gifre. She did, however, like my servants enough to keep them. I sent a messenger to Edoras immediately. When word came that you had sent for me, My Lord, I left immediately."

"Aefre. Where did you stay in the meantime?" Gamling was curious. "Your sister-in-law did not wish your presence, yet you could not return to your husband's home."

Aefre gave a sneaky smile. "My grandmother had her own home, removed from the main hall. It was a day's hard ride from my father's house, built for her as there were times he and she did not get along. It had been left to me and I doubt my brother told Eadlyn about it. She was always a greedy thing and demanded more than her due. I could remain there indefinitely, and be self - sufficient. The house needs work, work I cannot afford to pay for. My grandmother has been dead for fifteen years and no one has resided there in that time. A few of my women came with me there; those that were married or romantically attached to the few men left that were loyal to my husband. But the home is in a sad state of disrepair. There were not enough of us to fix it, nor did I want to bring attention to us. There were not enough men to defend it under an all out attack. I would not put it past my sister in law to decide the place belongs to the estate and I worry about my deceased husband's cousin." Aefre shuddered. " He is a scoundrel, a horrid person. He stank of old ale and sweat and did not believe in bathing. His touch was abhorrent."

…owyn squeezed her hand. She understood the feeling well; she, too, knew what it as like to have attentions forced on one by someone when you couldn't stand to be in their presence.

Aefre took a deep breath and looked into the eyes of Théoden, sensing his thoughts. "I realize, Sire, that I am imposing on your hospitality. There are those that feel I should remarry. Perhaps I should. However, in my first marriage, I married for love. I would like that opportunity again. In fact, I shall settle for nothing less." Her tone was emphatic and even Théoden could hear the finality of her words.

"Then, for love you shall marry. I take it …owyn has found you a place to stay?"

"Yes, Uncle." …owyn's smile was a fond one. "Aefre has aided me greatly in day to day management of the Golden Hall. She is used to running large households with garrisons and most-" she made a point to look hard at Gamling, "do not try to rouse her ire. I have also discovered that she is eager to do work wherever it needs to be done."

***Ah. So that is why she was one night in the baths and the next morning ordering men and servants about upstairs.***

…owyn continued in her glowing praise of the woman. "I have found her guidance and counsel to be helpful and true. She has refused to act the pampered lady, and insists on helping everywhere and anywhere in trade for a room and a place to stable her horse." She leaned over and stage whispered, "Willan adores her."

"That is saying something," Théoden agreed.

The room was quiet; the only sound the crackle of the fire and popping of the wood.

"Sire, there is much to be done if your man's room is to be prepared in time for him to sleep in the bed tonight. If it is your will, might I leave now to oversee the work?"

Théoden waved the women out, watching Gamling's eyes scrutinizing Aefre closely. As the door whispered shut, the Rider made his way to the window, surveying the tent town outside the walls.

"Ideas, my friend?"

Gamling almost smiled at the compliment. "Many... thoughts, sire. This," he gestured to the refugees, "weighs heavily on you."

"And what weighs on you?"

For a moment, the rugged soldier was quiet. Then...

"Why did her husband's kinsman wait four years to assert his rights?" He turned and stared at the king. "He must have frightened her badly for her to abandon her home; to run as quickly as possible to her brother's." He turned to look at the king over his shoulder. "If you do not need me, sire, I would like to go for a ride. Dréogan has not been out in several days and he gets irritable, when he is cooped up."

"As do you." Théoden smiled and waved him out. He waited for Gamling to make his bow and leave before addressing his nephew.

"What think you?"

…omer was using his knife to peel an apple. "What think I? You know, as well as I, when Gamling is chewing on something, he rides."

"And what do you think he thinks about?"

…omer was smirking. "Besides her? Not much else. His romantic skills are rusty. He has been alone for many years and doesn't think past the night's enjoyment on the few occasions he has invited a woman to bed. I have never known him to take an unwilling wench to his bedroll, nor does he have to beg."

Théoden was looking over the refugee camp and he watched his trusted Marshal stride down the hill towards the stables. "He goaded her."

"Aye. Carried her screaming through the halls as well. The men are laughing about in the Hall. With that act, he has marked her as his. Even if he didn't mean to, he has." …omer joined him at the window, looking down at the retreating figure in green and the colorful tents. "He could do worse. She has land, a small, if ramshackle home. The Wold could use more good Riders." …omer fingered his beard. "Perhaps, …owyn and I could collaborate, work to bring them together..." his voice trailed off.

"You will do no such thing. The last time your sister and you attempted to match make, the poor couple refused to speak to each other for months, making the Golden Hall a cold place indeed."

"It was winter."

"…omer!"

"But they got together eventually." …omer protested.

"But the months between were inhabitable! No! No romantic trysts planned, no arrows of ardor. You are not a winged godlet of love!" Théoden stomped over to the pitcher and poured himself a mug of mead. "Gamling is a good man, an honorable Rider of the Mark. He has been alone for a long time. If the two of them manage to get past each other's prickly shielding, they will do it on their own." He dipped his nose into the mug. "Leave them be."

…omer was now tossing the apple core. "I saw his eyes follow her, scrutinizing her every move."

"And her eyes followed him. I know. I saw." Théoden set the tankard down with a solid thud. "Bah. I am an old man and once we decide on how to deal with the mess with Gondor, we will have to begin looking for a wife for you."

"Me? A wife? Why?"

"No wilting Princess for you. She will have to be brave and tough. Perhaps our Aefre will agree to marry you..."

"No. No, no, and no again." …omer clomped to the door. "I will marry, when I am ready. You, old man," he pointed to his uncle, a fire in his eye, "should think to remarry yourself before messing in others' love lives!" It dawned on him immediately what he had said. "Sir, I-"

Théoden waved him off, good-naturedly. " ‘Tis good you are my nephew and not a lowly stable boy. Be gone with you. Go terrorize a serving wench." He turned to the window, seeing Gamling now on Dréogan's back, picking his way slowly around the townspeople. "Strange. What troubles you is her kinsmen. It troubles me as well." The breeze picked up and as Gamling made his way through the gates, his warhorse launched into a gallop, stretching his legs; Gamling's cloak and hair streaming behind him.

***
tbc
***

Rider of the Mark 04

On a wing and some kind of prayer.

***

Gamling wove through the milling throng of people; women and children, the occasional Rider who nodded in deference. As he made his way to the stables, his mind whirled with snippets of conversation concerning Aefre.

Too soon, he strode through the doors into the well-kept stable. Dréogan had his head over the gate, nuzzling the grey dappled mare in the stall next to him.

"Well, you're a pretty thing." He reached over to scratch her soft muzzle. She allowed the petting to continue for a few moments before tossing her head and prancing to the back of her stall, looking at him over her shoulder. "Sassy too." Haughtily, she tossed her head, successfully turning her back on him. As her ebony tail swished, he noticed an unusual black marking across her rump...

***a wing?***

Gamling looked at his stallion.

Dréogan was... glaring?

You interrupted!

Gamling grabbed the saddle pad and saddle, slinging them over and on the stall door.

"Forget it! I'm not getting any; why should you?" He tossed him an apple from his pouch, which the beast nimbly grabbed from the air. In short time, he had the animal saddled and bridled, and with the effortless ease of one raised on horseback, Gamling swung up and made his way through the city gates and into open fields.

There was something about the wind; freedom, a sense of escape, even if only for a short time. He pulled up on Dréogan, sniffing the wind, searching for anything out of line.

Nothing.

Good.

A small mound of rocks lay in the distance. Gamling pointed the warhorse in that direction and gave him a nudge. Dréogan took off, nose out. Muscles bunched and tucked, only to stretch as Dréogan's stride lengthened, and anyone watching would have been overwhelmed at the oneness of horse and rider, the graceful movement and the unspoken communication between the two.

Wind riffled through the long locks of both horse and rider.

He should have brought his helmet, but truth was, he hated the thing. It stifled him, made it difficult to breathe. It made him sweat and his nose itch. So far, he had been lucky. Someday, he knew he wouldn't be.

As they neared the rock pile, Gamling's mind returned to the problem he had been mulling over for a little time.

Her.

Such a contradiction from what he had wrongly assumed.

No simple serving wench, not someone to dally with.

A capable chatelaine... widowed... not only ran but governed a Hall for four years. Alone. Had married for love.

A lady.

No.

A Lady.

***Big difference, Gamling. One raised in graciousness and one who was used to the niceties in life, certainly not what a career soldier could possibly hope for. What could he possibly offer
her?***

Safety.

He pulled up short.

***Where in Béma's name had THAT come from?***

Slowly, Dréogan made his way to the top of a small hillock. Surveying the land beneath him, Gamling leaned on his saddle.

She was saucy; he would give her that. She was woefully independent, probably wouldn't be one to take orders or obey a husband's wishes. No doubt, she had had her husband wrapped so tightly around her finger, all she had to do was crook it and watch him dance like a stringed puppet.

Well, there was one thing Gamling did not do and that was dance!

Béma!

Why was he even thinking of her? Romance! Bah! The last thing he had time for was the wooing of a woman, especially one with an unbearably high opinion of herself! He turned Dréogan to look back at Edoras. To him, it was the most beautiful sight, rising over the open field, like a guidepost... a ray of light.

He had never seen the cities of Gondor, of Belfalas. He had heard stories of the White City - Minas Tirith; its seven levels, rising over Pelennor Fields. The women of Belfalas were rumored to be uncommonly beautiful and exotic.

Much like rich food.

No. Too much rich food made one slow, ponderous. If he ever married, it would be to someone sturdy, someone...

Had anyone walked up on Rider and Horse, they would have wondered why the Man shook his head as if to fling water from the roots of his hair.

***no no no no no no!***

Why had her husband's kin waited so long to claim the manor? Rohan was not so big that it would take so long for a man to discover he owned land and hearth.

Gamling's hand clenched tightly, unconsciously pulling on the reins and causing Dréogan to look at him askance. Why had the man threatened her? That was sheer stupidity. All knew running the day - to - day affairs of a Hall was a woman's work.

Someone should find out. Someone should...

Bah!

There was only one way to cease this train of thought.

He stared hard at the tent city dotting the hillside outside the city walls.

***The Lost. The Homeless.***

Théoden worried greatly about that lot.

He had reason to.

After an hour or two of riding in circles around Edoras, he and Dréogan made their way back to the Golden Hall.

***

Aefre was in a sweat. For several hours, she and Willan, along with the aid of two other serving women, slaved clearing out the room to be Gamling's. They removed the heavy drapes, took down the smoke- stinking tapestries. They were so filthy, that one could not see the stitchery on them.

Disgusting!

The rugs were taken up and were now hanging on a line out back, being beaten by two large women. The clothing left had been sent to the laundry, to be given to the needy. Aefre had told the girl removing them to wash them in lye soap at least five times. Willan removed the offending pots from the antechamber and Aefre found a large tub that wasn't too badly battered, to be brought up later. The mattress on the bed was gone; it too, would find a new home somewhere else, once it had been cleaned and restuffed with new feathers. Aefre spoke with Eowyn and between the two women, they found a feather mattress in an unused room. All of Grima's belongings were removed.

Only one thing left.

Aefre knew that there were those who might think what she did would be strange, but the old ways had been taught to her by her formidable grandmother. The room reeked of old sweat and smells she did not want to consider. Gamling was a pain in her arse, but he deserved better than the leavings of an evil being.

This had been *his* room. Evil would still lurk in any crevice where it could get a toe - hold. Gamling was Théoden's most trusted advisor; someone the King would go as far as to consider a good friend. In no way could she allow the festering stench of Grima to impose itself on the King's most trusted companion.

"Pah! This room stinks of Wormtongue stench!" She sent the two girls to the kitchens for lunch and Willan out to oversee the beating of the rugs. She then went to the storerooms to retrieve necessary items. She came back with a broom and a small bowl of clean water, along with an herb sack.

She ran into Gamling on her way back to the rooms.

Damn the man. He looked wind-blown, hale, and pink cheeked from riding as fast as his poor, unfortunate steed would take him.

In a strange way, he reminded her of her husband.

Béma! Where at that thought come from? Her husband had made her feel safe. This one irritated her with his methodical ways and knowing stare. She stepped backwards, trying to steady her thoughts, to move out of his way. She didn't realize she was clutching her items to her. She was vaguely aware of his hands reaching out.

"Allow me." Somewhere, someone had taught the brute courtly manners, as he gently took her burden from her. " I assume you are taking these to my room?"

"Yes." Strange. Her voice sounded far away.

Gamling cocked an eyebrow before turning and heading towards his room.

With her things.

Getting a grip on her emotions, she ran after him. "Please, you do not need to carry those-"

Gamling stopped and looked down at her, the difference in their heights suddenly apparent.

"I am afraid I offended you this morning, my Lady." It was carefully said, but Aefre could sense the steel underlying the words. "Allow me to assist you." He started to turn back towards his room.

"Nay, nay. This is a servant's work. Don't worry yourself over mundane..."

"But it is *my* room," he shrugged rather elegantly. "I wish to assist you. And you," he seemed to be reminding her, "are no servant." He turned again towards his rooms and strode off rather quickly, causing Aefre to almost run in order to keep up.

***Insufferable man!***

He strode through the doors, carrying her things to the table and setting them down. With large hands, he began to rummage through the items.

"What is all this?"

The scowl he was becoming so familiar with flashed at him, her hands smacking at his. "Thank you. You may leave."

"No."

She continued to smack at him, slight stinging designed not to hurt, but simply to get his attention.

***Well, she has my attention. Why does she want me gone?***

He smacked her back and slid the items further from her. He picked up the obvious.

"A broom."

*** If looks could kill, Dréogan would be Riderless...***

She reached for it, but he was in a teasing mood. Twisting it sideways, he held it up over his head, out of her reach. "There is not enough water in that bowl to clean the floors."

"I am not going to clean the floors with that!" She now sounded completely exasperated. "Are you going to leave or not?"

The man had an evil, mischievous smile that made him look younger. "You wish me gone?"

"Yes, yes! I wish you gone! I have things to do and you are in my way." She shooed at him. "Put down my broom and begone! Here!" She picked up an apple from the bowl Willan had left earlier. "Take this to your over-taxed horse."

The smile never faded; in fact, the obnoxious fiend only grinned even more. "Oh, I believe I have mucked out a stall or two in my lifetime. I don't think cleaning a room would be much different." He two-handed the broom to the floor, his grip firmly on the handle. "Which corner should I start with?"

He was not going to leave. Aefre's mind whirled. Fine. So be it.

He returned his attention to the sack on the table, and was rummaging through it, leaving her standing with her hand still wrapped around the apple. "Sticks?" He pulled out smaller sacks. "Is this salt?... Sand?... I'm impressed! You are bringing the barn to me!"

Aefre narrowed her eyes.

***odious jack ass! ***

***She is so much fun to bait. Firefirefirehothothot!***

"Do you really mean to stay?"

Gamling shrugged. "Aye. I have nothing better to do." He gestured to the room. "Where would you have me start?"

"I would have you gone!"

"So sorry, My Lady." If anything, the grip on the broom handle became firmer.

Aefre finally sighed. Fine. So be it. She started to point him to the door frame, but then decided he should be a part of the ritual. After all, he asked for this. "Stand in front of the door. About two or three steps forward." A single finger shot up in his face, causing him to jerk up and slightly back. "Do not interrupt to ask questions. Once I begin, I cannot stop." She turned and returned to the center of the room. "Whatever questions you have will have to wait." She snorted inelegantly. "I do need the broom, however. If you like, I will give it back when I'm done." Again, she handed him the apple.

Gamling finally took the offered fruit. Rather than relinquish the broom, he propped himself on it and proceeded to munch on the apple.

"Must you be so loud?"

"I'll try to chew more quietly," he acquiesced, before taking another bite.

Aefre rolled her eyes. Béma save her from men! His grip had loosened and before he could figure out what she was doing, she snatched the broom from his grasp, leaving him staggering for balance.

"Wha-"

"I'll give it back!" Looking through the window at the direction of the sun, Aefre went to the easternmost corner and began to sweep around the outer edge of the room in a clockwise direction.

"You're missing the middle."

Aefre said nothing, but her glare all but screamed for his silence. She completed the circle of the room making sure he was inside the circle, and as promised, handed the broom back to the disbelieving Horse Lord.

She returned to the center of the room.

She breathed deeply, cleansing breaths and dropped her head. For several minutes the only sound heard was the soft cacophony of life coming from outside the window. When she raised her head, he could not even see the rise and fall of her breath, it was so shallow. She turned to face the back of the room...

"I call to the Guardian of the East," she clapped her hands together once. She turned to the right. "I call to the Guardian of the South." She clapped again. She repeated her call to the West, then to the North, before lowering her hands and stepping to the table. Setting the bundle of sand to the side, she took the small bundle of salt, she dipped her fingers in, scooping a good pinch into the small bowl of water. She then reached across the table and bunching them neatly, she bundled the twigs, tying them together with twine pulled from her pocket. She set them down next to the sand, before picking up the salted water.

Stepping back to the middle of the room, she faced East and dipped her fingers in the water. She flung gently, splattering the floor with water droplets. "Guardian of the East, cleanse this room and make it pure." She turned, facing South, again sprinkling salted water. "Guardian of the South, cleanse this room and remove the stench of the minion who resided here before." Turn. Dip. Sprinkle. "Guardian of the West, cleanse this room and remove the lingerings of Saruman." Turn. Dip. Sprinkle. "Guardian of the North, cleanse this room and remove all that would bode ill here."

She then sprinkled water all around herself, saying, "Guardians all, purify this place, let Air and Fire, Earth and Water cleanse it!" She turned the bowl upside down; it was empty.

Gamling watched, hand and apple at his mouth; fascinated at the ritual. Aefre returned to the table and set down the empty bowl. She picked up the bag of sand and dumped it into the bowl and then picked up the twig bundle. She moved to the fireplace, where a low fire was burning and thrust the twigs in, catching the ends on fire. She removed them and blew until the flames subsided; smoke and glowing embers all that remained. Gamling caught the scent of herbs; sage, thyme, others. She returned to the center of the room and was again facing East. She moved in a circle, clockwise. Her words were softly spoken and he had to lean to hear what she said.

"... the Air; with this smoke, I cleanse the Fire, with this smoke, I cleanse the Earth; with this smoke, I cleanse the Water." She completed the circle and stood still. "With this smoke, I cleanse myself." She waved the bundle of smoking herbs all around herself. She turned and approached Gamling, who froze. She waved the herbs all around him: "With this smoke, I cleanse this man." Then, she extinguished the burning herbs into the bowl of sand. She stood still, looking into some far distance. Then, she raised her arms over her head, made obeisance to the four directions, walked once counter - clockwise around the room, and shook herself as if she was coming out of sleep.

She dusted her hands, knocking small bits of herb, salt and sand to the floor. " There. It's done," she said briskly. "I can get this room cleaned up now." Catching the Horse Lord off guard, she snatched the broom from him and leaned it against the hearth. "You wanted to help? You may help then. Go to the yards and aid Willan in bringing clean rugs and furs for the floor. I'm afraid," and with this she turned, to peruse the wooden walls, "that your walls will be bare until I can find something suitable for them or make something for you to hang. I will bring something to go over the window at night." She made to step around him, leaving him stunned in the middle of the floor. "Well, at the very least, you will sleep in a bed tonight." She shook her finger at him. "A real bed! Why tarry you?" She shooed him, herding him to the door. "Those rugs are not going to walk up by themselves. Go!"

***funny strange little witch***

Gamling stepped back and made a rather courtly bow. "You first, My Lady."

Aefre scowled and stepped around him, and found herself having to side step …omer. She looked back over her shoulder. The stress on ‘My' was obvious and pointed. "Don't call me that!" She stepped around Théoden's heir with a withering glance and moved around him.

…omer grinned like a puppy at her retreating figure. He leaned against the doorframe, with his arms crossed.

"Cleanse this man? Didn't you take a bath last evening?"

Gamling strode across the room. "Don't you know a woman's magic when you see it? It was important to her. Leave it be."

"She has nice hips."

Gamling's head was thrust through the doorway, to see said nice hips sway down the hallway.

***very nice... fit the ha-***

"In fact, they would fit one's hands just right." Gamling turned to see …omer using his hands to gauge the span of her hips.

"I know what you're up to." It was said so quietly, …omer almost missed it.

"What I am up to?" He actually sounded slightly confused. "What would I be up to?"

"Don't think I do not I remember yours and Eowyn's match-making from three winters past." He straightened up and proceeded to leave the room, heading for the back yards. "The two of you made their lives miserable and ours to boot!"

"Claénnis and Elne are very happy now. You could use a good woman in your life, Gamling."

"I have a horse. I have all I need."

"But still. Wouldn't you want someone to warm your bed on a cold night? I mean, that's a big bed in your new room and surely, you'll be lonely..."

…omer felt his nose grabbed by a tight grip. "Perhaps, youngling, you would like the bed. Maybe it would lure YOU a nice Princess?"

"Gambing. Turb looz ub muh dooz..."

…omer's nose was released and he rubbed it grudgingly. "There was no need-"

"I have no need of a wide bed to pleasure a wench or to keep me warm. My bedroll or my cloak has always been enough to suffice." He turned to head down the hallway again. He made it two or three steps before firing over his shoulder, "Standing up as well!"

…omer watched his uncle's and his own friend stalk out of sight, continuing to rub his injured nose. "That's it! You deserve her!" And with a final rub, he turned to find his sister.

***
tbc
***

Rider of the Mark 05

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

***

A bolt of light shot across the room, zinging pinpoints over his eyelids and waking the Horse Lord in a most abrupt manner. He growled at the intrusion of the happy, whistling invading his blessed quietness.

***Where am I?***

This was not the comfort of the fireplace in the Great Hall, nor could he smell timothy hay.

Dréogan was not breathing down his neck!

***Béma! Would that woman-***

"Stop whistling!"

"I'm sorry, m'lord." Aefre's voice was bright, perky, and she did not sound sorry at all. "The King desires your presence at breakfast this morn."

Gamling opened one eye to see ‘that woman' standing at the foot of his bed, seemingly admiring his form.

"I see," she continued cheekily, "that I'm going to have to put up bed curtains, seeing how you're a slug - a -bed and sleep in the altogether!"

Gamling grabbed at his covers, pulling them higher-

***nothing is showing... what is she talking about?***

- up and growled, "Did you like what you think you saw?"

Aefre turned her back on him, so he would not see the blush creep across her cheeks. "You are no different from any other man I've seen!" She reset the drapery behind the hook on the wall. "Now that you are up, I can go for a ride!" she said over-brightly. "Hurry, now. Théoden King is pacing the floor." Aefre started towards the door.

"Aefre." Gamling sat up, furs bunched around his waist. "Is there something wrong, to have upset the King?"

Aefre stopped, her shoulders slumped. "Aye." Gamling had to lean forward to hear. "Something happened to one of the Hobbits."

"The Halflings? What happened to them? Which one?"

Aefre turned slightly, eyes downcast. "Pippin. Something happened to Pippin."

***

Gamling's headache was immediate and throbbing. Was there ever a time when life was simple and quiet? In the stroke of a sword, Grima Wormtongue had literally wormed his way into Théoden's head, almost bringing Rohan to its knees, Helm's Deep had almost fallen and now-

Pippin had played with fire.

The Fire.

Voices murmured back and forth, talk of war, talk of Gondor, of Sauron. It was obvious that Gandalf and the Ranger expected Rohan to rise to the aid of Gondor.

Théoden was not enthused.

He questioned the Istari and the Ranger and rightfully so. Why should Rohan answer?

Why indeed?

In the end, it was decided to send the little Hobbit to Minas Tirith, away from Rohan.

And Théoden still questioned why.

***

"Why should we ride to Gondor's aid? Give me one reason!" Théoden was leaning over the table, worry-lines evident.

"Well, there is the agreement our ancestor made when our people were granted this land by Steward Cirion," …omer was quick to assert.

Théoden's hand swept over the map, frown marring his features. "A forgotten agreement from a forgotten time." His eyes slid towards Gamling.

Gamling sighed heavily.

***Since when did 500 years become a forgotten time?***

"They did not come in our time of need. Why should we go to theirs?"

"Sire, we did not call for them." Gamling gently reminded him. "There was no time."

"Denethor would not have come anyway!" Théoden's hand slammed down, covering Gondor with the palm. "If Gandalf is to be believed - and I do believe him - Gondor is losing inch by inch to Sauron and Mordor. Had we lit the beacons, they would not have been able to come."

Aye. That much was true.

"If Minas Tirith falls, Gondor will fall." …omer's hand swept the corner of the map. "And then Sauron will be at our borders."

"Saruman was only a warm-up, a sample, of what Sauron will throw at us." Théoden was simmering on the borders of fury, his teeth set on edge. "We should shore up our defense here- " he pointed, " - and here. What do you think, Gamling?"

***I think I have a headache that would split the whole of the Earth and we will still die...***

"You want to honestly know what I think?"

"No, Gamling! Lie to me!" Théoden growled. "Tell me there isn't a gaping hole in the supposedly impregnable wall of Helm's Deep! Tell me Saruman wasn't in league with Sauron! Tell me the whole of the Earth isn't going to fall into an abyss! Tell me the One Ring hasn't been found and doesn't lie in the hands of a Hobbit trying to sneak into the snake pit!" The fire glowed eerily behind the King of Rohan. "Tell me my son isn't dead! Tell me, it's all a lie!"

Gamling never batted an eye. " I cannot tell you any of that, sire."

Théoden hung his head, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm sorry, my friend. Of course, I want to know what you truly think."

Gamling leaned over the table and looked over the map of Middle Earth. "I think we should go to Gondor's aid, m'Lord."

Théoden grimaced. "You, as well? What is it with the young?" he asked the air. "All you think of is glory and war-"

"I am not so young, sire." While Gamling's voice was quiet, the steel underneath was obvious. "At least, not as young as yon hothead." He nodded to …omer, who responded with a smirk. "There is the promise, yes, but beyond that, we don't have the strength to withstand Sauron's forces. If we join with Gondor, we stand a better chance of defeating him."

Théoden took in his words, mulling them over. "If we fall in Gondor, who will protect Rohan? Women? Children? That pile of homeless refugees on the hill?"

Gamling and …omer looked at each other before Gamling answered. "If Gondor falls, who will aid us? We will fall." He finally looked at Théoden. "We must aid Gondor to give Rohan a chance."

There was no sound save that of the crackling fire in the hearth.

"Then we are agreed." Théoden exhaled. "If Gondor calls for aid, Rohan will answer."

"Aye! To war and glory!" …omer jovially raised his tankard, only to be smacked in the back of the head by Gamling. …omer rubbed his head, as he watched the elder Horse Lord wander to the window.

"Any thoughts on what to do with our refugees?"

Gamling did not acknowledge Théoden's question for several moments. Finally, he shook his head. "Nay. Not a one."

For a time, the three went over the maps, questioning, estimating the numbers of Riders in each area, each part of the Mark. The sun rose higher and continued its fiery march across the sky, as they took their midday meal sequestered in Théoden's chambers.

They did not hear Eowyn slip into the chambers.

She stood against the door watching the three men plan, exchange and argue out ideas. Théoden was the first to notice her.

"Eowyn, do you need something?" His voice was tired and weary.

Eowyn looked nervously at her brother and then back to her uncle. "I... it's Aefre, Uncle."

*** That Woman? Now what has she done? Did she set the bed on fire with some strange woman's ritual...***

Théoden stood tall, brow knitted. "Is she ill?"

"Nay, it's-" she looked again to …omer, then to Gamling, before looking at Théoden again. "-she went for a ride this morning and she hasn't re-"

*** Now that you are up, I can go for a ride-***

"-turned. This is very unlike her."

"She left the city walls?"

Eowyn had the audacity to look put out at Gamling. "Like you, m'lord, she likes to exercise her horse and feel the freedom of the wind from time to time. It is difficult to do that within the walls!"

"She rides?"

***Ooh. Did I just say that out loud?***

Apparently, he had. Eowyn was looking at him in disgust.

"Yes, she rides." Théoden broke the silence with a humorous spirit. "Like the wind, as I recall." He smiled fondly. "In her younger days, she was a fierce Shield Maiden and she wielded a wicked morningstar!"

"Morningstar, Shield Maiden or fast rider, I care not!" Eowyn stated emphatically. "She is several hours overdue and I'm worried!"

…omer scrunched his face in thought. "Firefoot is nursing a stone bruise. Gamling, you are a better tracker than I. Do you mind hunting down our errant Lady?"

***yesyesyeshothothotsweeeethothothot***

"Is there no one else?" he asked dryly.

Théoden looked from brother to sister and then back to Gamling. "He is right. You are the better tracker. Go on with you. You'll find her fast enough and, I daresay, you will blister her ears for straying too far."

***That's not all I want to blister***

Gamling pulled himself from the window. He pinched his nose in effort to stave off his headache. "Can someone tell me what her horse looks like?"

Eowyn was smiling in relief. "Yes, yes! Adenydd is a dapple grey mare. She looks dainty, but she isn't. She has a-"

"Black, wing marking across her rump?"

***I'm being set up. I know it! I just know-***

Eowyn had brightened. "Yes! You've seen her?"

***-know... KNEW it! I knew it! Seen her, my eye! My stallion is in love with her...***

"A time or two. I'm sure I'll recognize her. Anything else?" Getting negative head shakes, Gamling left, scowling, fuming, -

***...hunt down the little vixen, running me on a wild goose chase, gone off to Béma knows where, teach her a lesson she soon won't forget...***

- and feeling a little predatory.

***

The door whispered shut behind the man and Théoden held his hand up to ensure silence. They listened to the thud of Gamling's boots die away as he walked down the hallway. As the last footfall faded away, Théoden pinned the siblings with an eagle eye.

"You two are pathetic! As obvious as the day is long! Amateurs! Both of you!"

"Uncle, I'm shocked." Eowyn retorted airily. "Why, I have no idea-"

"No idea? Let me guess!" Théoden advanced on his niece, both surprising and shocking her with his agile grace. "You allowed Aefre a free day, a rare day off. You probably loaded her with a healthy basket of foodstuffs - enough to feed her and an angry Rider and much too much wine!" Théoden had her backed against a wall. "Tell me, was she hard to convince?"

Eowyn's eyes darted back and forth between her uncle and her brother.

"Was. She. Hard. To-"

"Oh, you might as well tell him!" …omer huffed.

"I reminded her it had been some time since she truly took time to exercise her horse."

"Eowyn, it is not wholly safe outside the city walls! It is bad enough I have a tented city of refugees that is guarded around the clock. It is not safe - to allow a lady to roam freely is inexcusable!"

"I know that!" Eowyn retorted. "I told her to stay in sight of the walls!" She fidgeted under her uncle's glare. "She's not been gone *that* long."

Théoden growled. It was not a pretty sound.

Eowyn fidgeted more.

"Well... well... it was his-" she flung out an accusatory finger at …omer, " -idea!"

"I think I'll go check on Firefoot." …omer made to rise from his seat.

"You'll do no such thing!" Théoden roared. "Sit!"

…omer sat back down with an audible ‘plop'.

"You are a Marshal of the Riddermark and my heir! Béma forbid that such a one would stoop to such depths of childish games!" Théoden stalked a path around the table, hands behind his back. "Do you think they need that much help?"

Both siblings looked at each other, mumbling partial sentences that Théoden was able to grab bits and pieces of.

"She is a warm, caring person."

"He is quiet and seems to be introverted at times."

"-always a kind word-"

"-value and trust his leadership qualities and his friendship-"

"-been alone for four years-"

"-seen stallions covering mares with more romantic skills-"

"-she can be rather prickly-"

"-has been alone for some years-"

"-has a rather sharp tongue-"

"-is a demanding taskmaster-"

"-can be a bit... bossy-"

"-men have great respect for his-"

"-has put a serving girl or two in their place-"

"-he is-"

" - she is -"

"Cease!" Théoden was pressing his fingertips to his forehead with his eyes tightly shut. "In essence, they are both independent, strong-willed, respected individuals who have been alone for far too long."

Eowyn nodded in embarrassment while …omer merely shrugged.

"Well, let's hope Gamling doesn't kill her when he finds her. I can't believe you urged her to leave the walls!"

"And why not?" Eowyn retorted. "It is all right for Gamling or any of the men to exercise their animals and breathe the air, but for a woman, it is not?"

"Eowyn-"

"Aefre is a woman!" …omer explained patiently as if to a small child. "She isn't capable of defending hers-... OW!" The Marshal recoiled away from her, holding his arm, where his sister had punched him hard. "You are so mean to me. Uncle!" he whined peevishly to Théoden, "she *hit* me! She is always mean to me! Will you beat her?"

"No." Théoden's upper lip had started to twitch.

"Can I beat her?"

"You?" Eowyn screeched. "Beat me? Why I'll knock you senseless, not that that would be difficult!"

"I can still dunk you into the horse trough!"

"No, you can't!"

"Yes," …omer reiterated and he stood as if to further his point, "I can!" He glanced quickly at Théoden. "I can, can't I?"

Théoden looked from one to the other; to the fierce Rider with his boyish charm, to his overly-serious sister. For all of …omer's playfulness and constant pestering of his sister, it was well known his deep love and staunch protection of her. Théoden's grin was amazingly similar to his nephew's. "Yes, you may." He heard Eowyn gasp in indignation. "After-" he wagged his finger, "you have dunked yourself for hatching this scheme!"

…omer's triumphant grin quickly dissipated. "Well, that certainly took the fun out of it!" he complained, clearly disappointed at being bested.

Théoden looked at the siblings sternly. "Leave the two of them to me. Perhaps the two of you will watch and learn from a master at matchmaking!" The King rubbed his hands in glee. "It's been a long time since I set anyone up!" he murmured.

"You?"

"You?"

"Aye me! Who do you think set your parents up? Now, out with you both!" He thumbed them in the direction of the door and moved towards the window. "I need to mull over a few things."

While Eowyn and …omer might have thought their uncle was contemplating the hillside of refugees, he was closely watching the lone rider, galloping off towards the west.

***Ah, the fox has caught scent of his prey.***

***
tbc
***

Rider of the Mark 06

The Apologetic shall inherit the Mark


***

***Damn it! DAMN IT! Foolish, stupid woman!***

Gamling saddled Dréogan with a few quick, economical movements; the stallion cooperating for a change. He seemed over-excited, stomping and chomping at the bit to move, to hurry.

"Aye, we're in search of your lady mare and that foolish, irresponsible witch that rides her! She won't be able to sit her horse, much less ride her when I finish with her!" He swung up into the saddle, yelling at those on foot to make way, effectively clearing the path to the front gates.

As soon as they passed the sentinel, Gamling proceeded to search the ground for anything that would indicate which direction Aefre might have taken. The ground in front of the gate was riddled with hoof prints, showing the comings and goings of Riders in and out of the gate to the city. As he neared the bottom of the hill, the tracks spread out, became clearer. There: heavy hooves, unshod, carrying a heavy burden towards Gondor; that would be Shadowfax, carrying Gandalf and that brainless, happy-go-lucky Pippin of a Hobbit. Gamling zig-zagged, circled, looking, hard hooves here, no - deep prints, someone walking, no... not the ones... delicate, barely in the...

Ah. Hoof prints, barely etched in the dirt, as if the mare were...

***...flying. She rides like the wind...***

Dréogan appeared to agree with the Horse Lord. The chestnut stallion circled, snorting in horse-fury, before straining at the reins in the direction of where she had roamed.

Gamling peered into the horizon, following her trail.

She was nowhere in sight.

He squinted, trying to force his vision further.

Still, nowhere to be seen.

***If she lives, I shall kill her!***

He pointed Dréogan in the direction of the hoof prints and growling a "H'yah!", the warhorse gathered himself and broke into a gallop. He allowed the steed his head, Dréogan faithfully following the single trail of light footprints, galloping thunderous foot falls for the better part of an hour. Gamling's irritability waned to concern, which boiled into rage, and dropped back to bothersome worry. He crossed a stream, grateful for the three solid prints showing she had gone straight across rather than follow along the side of the water. For another half hour, he followed the recently beaten trail, his emotions swinging from one side to the other. Dréogan did not slow, nor tire; indeed he seemed to be as anxious, ill-tempered, and as focused on his task as his rider. They climbed and topped a small rise, Gamling searching, looking...

He felt the horse inhale, so he was not surprised at the strength and volume of the shrill bray that carried on the air. Gamling *was* surprised however, at the answering whinny. Without hesitation, the stallion pulled at the reins, tossing his head and calling back. For the first time in almost 40 years of hard riding, Gamling found himself hanging on for dear life, as the stallion he had raised from a colt and had personally broken and trained, dashed over a glen and through a small thicket. Coming over yet another small hill, Gamling saw a small copse of trees, a grey mare waiting demurely to the side. Dréogan knew where he was going and no mere Rider was going to tell him otherwise and gainsay him. He barreled up, coming to a crashing halt in front of the dainty mare. With unbelievable gentleness, the stallion nuzzled Adenydd, giving her a very thorough looking over.

***Well, I'm glad you found your quarry. Hopefully, mine will be as easy...***

Gamling dismounted, making sure the reins were looped loosely to the pommel, giving the stallion enough maneuvering room to graze without getting entangled. He looked around, curious as to why there was no sound, no Aefre demanding why *he* was out here, interrupting her solitude. There was no bird song, no wind rustling through the low grass. He started to call out for her, but had second thoughts. The fine hairs of his neck were standing on end and as he headed for the grove of trees, he quietly withdrew his sword from his scabbard.

The area was heavily shaded, and it took a moment for the Horse Lord's eyes to adjust. He finally saw her, reclining on the ground, a large rucksack by her side. An empty wineskin lay nearby. She was leaning against a tree and appeared to be...

Asleep.

***...asleep? She's asleep? Stupidstupidmagicfingersstupidwoman...in the middle of nowhere where anyone or anything could and would quietly slip in and garrote...***

Gamling narrowed his eyes, anger at her stupidity flaring at an incredible speed. He watched her, breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. She almost looked innocent, young even, lying in the shadows.

***I should teach her a lesson she won't soon forget!***

Resheathing his sword, and grinning diabolically, he quietly unbuckled his sword belt and laying it to the ground, dropped to his knees. In silence, he crawled over the short distance to her reclining figure, straddling her.

***... ah, Béma, such a delectable mouth when it is not heaping abuse on my head...***

He focused closely on his prey, covering her, leaning in closer... closer...

...feeling the sharp blade of a knife flick against his Adam's apple...

"Swallow, Orc. It would please me."

Instead he pulled slightly away, only to feel her not so dainty or tiny foot, lodged firmly in his masculine parts.

***bleeding to death or squealing orders to Théoden's men like a girl for the rest of my days. Decisions, decisions...***

"Aefre," he whispered hoarsely, trying not to swallow. "If I were an Orc, you would be dead, despite your paltry weapon." Her foot lodged itself higher and her blade pressed a little further, causing his voice to rise an octave. "My mistake. Not so paltry." Her dark, glittering eyes bore holes in his azure ones for a moment before the blade was withdrawn and her foot removed from the warmth of his crotch. She laid the dirk to the side.

"You Riders, I swear, you're all.... OOF!..." As soon as he had ascertained her knife was unobtainable, Gamling grabbed her and rolled away from the knife and the tree, planting her firmly on her back and pinning her with his body. None too gently, he shoved his knee between her thighs, forcing her to straddle him and he cradled himself at their juncture.

***.... Béma, aah... she fits so.... sweetsweetSWEETthing...***

Thinking ahead, he had grabbed her wrists and pinned them to both sides of her head. She was wriggling , struggling, the movement causing his still - working parts to respond in an expected manner. She opened her mouth to yell...

"Do not do that, My Lady."

She inhaled.

"I will not harm you! You have my word!"

Aefre's mouth snapped shut, but she continued to struggle, making him more uncomfortable.

"Woman!" he gritted, "You are making it worse!"

Aefre stopped moving and hissed, "Then release me!"

He thrust once, hard, shoving her further into the soft dirt. "Do you have any idea how much danger you are in?"

"From you? You said you wouldn't harm me!"

Gamling rolled his eyes in exasperated fury. " ‘Tis bad enough I'm sent to hunt down an errant child-"

"Errant child? Eowyn bid me-"

" ‘Tis worse that I find you far from the protective sight and reach of Edoras-"

" - to go and enjoy the afternoon -"

"Furthermore, I find you deep in a bosky dell of trees, with a drained wineskin, sleeping-"

"- she even packed me a generous lunch and much too much wine-"

"-only to have you pull a knife on me!" He was roaring to be heard over her feeble protestations, "and stick your foot in my most tender parts!-"

"-only to hear you and that gargantuan beast you call a horse, come barreling in on my solitude and-"

"-when all I wanted to do was kiss you!"

"-and barge in here like.... what?"

***Béma!***

Gamling's voice dropped, relieved he had finally stopped her tirade. "All I wanted to do was kiss you."

"Oh."

***Finally! Hothothotsweetthing with the mouth so hothothothot...***

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Aefre raised herself up and bussed him quickly on the mouth, lips passing flatly over the corner of his mouth. "Now, will you be so kind as to let me up?"

***Béma, yesyesyes Sweet oh yes wait what the-***

Gamling reared up, looking down at his apparently - pleased - with - herself - prey, still pinned beneath him. "Oh," he whispered, "that was not a kiss."

Aefre's expectant look fell. "It wasn't?" Her eyes narrowed in consternation. "My lips met your lips. That's a kiss."

***Off guard, off guard... got you, you little...***

Gamling was smiling and shaking his head. "Nay. That was most certainly not a kiss." He lowered his head, breath wafting across her cheek. "This is."

He hovered for a second, long enough for her to gasp, before descending, canvassing-

*Sweetsweethothothot oh Béma soo hothot...***

She tasted of the wine she had drunk earlier and when her tongue touched his...

*hothothot not supposed to be this good aaaah sweet pleaseplease oh please hothothot***

Gamling growled, deepening the kiss. His arms went around her like whipcords,

*** soft aaaaaaah***

pulling her close into him. Her fingers threaded their way through his long hair , fingers...

***sweetsweet magicfingers oh hotfire...***

... molding herself to him, legs caressing his. The Horse Lord's hands moved from her back to the soft, generous curve of her backside and nudging her into his-

-feeling her inhale sharply, stiffening, and pull away -

***Wha...***

Hands that had been twirling in the long locks of his hair turned loose and pressed themselves against his chest. He released her mouth in confusion.

"Aefre?" He was amazed at how controlled he sounded.

"Please let me go."

He loosened his grip on her slightly. "Aefre? Are you all right?"

"Yes... no... please, allow me up." She had the look of a cornered hart. Gamling rolled over, turning her loose -

***Béma's balls... so close, so very close...***

- and watched her scramble away, pushing herself to her feet. Both hands went to her eyes and he heard her mumble hoarsely, "I'm sorry, so sorry," before she plunged through the brush and back into the sunlit field.

His body was screaming in frustration.

***She's sorry? Tell that to my-***

Ah. It's no use. Something had scared her and he could either find out what it was or walk away. He pushed himself up and dusted off his tunic, plucking a leaf from between his shoulder armor and buckle. He peered through the brush to see her standing just at the edge, hands on her hips. She was breathing heavily and Gamling wondered what had startled her... frightened her. Making sure everything was back in place,

***including m'lord Not-so-Happy...***

Gamling made much noise, and walked up behind her.

"My Lady, I offer my apologies."

"No, no." She barely looked over her shoulder. " ‘Tis my fault." She was wringing her hands now. Gamling had never seen her look so agitated. He tentatively put his hand on her shoulders and felt a convulsing sigh.

"I did not mean to frighten you."

***Liar! Yes you did mean to...***

She was quiet for a moment before she responded. "You didn't frighten me. I frighten me." He waited for her to continue, the silence in between maddening, nerve - wracking. "It's been a long time since my husband died, and the only man to show the slightest interest in me took my home." Beneath the loose folds of her dress, he saw her shuffling her foot nervously in the grass. "You caught me off guard, Gamling."

Although he gloried in the feeling of victory, it angered him that she openly admitted that his ploy had succeeded. Instead of confirming that she returned his feelings, more questions had been raised. It was obvious to him, that she and Eowyn had planned this little cozy tea party; and now she would play coy after arousing more than his interest? "I caught you off guard?" He spun her around, and grabbing her chin, he forced her to look up at him. "I beg to differ with you, My Lady! ‘Tis you who have led me on a wild goose chase," her jaw dropped, " flattered my person at every turn -"

"I did no such thing!" she sputtered.

"Nay? You have a nicely turned ankle for a man," he mimicked her in a nauseatingly high - pitched voice. Both hands went to his hips and he wagged his head mockingly. "I know women who would kill for your hair and you treat it like a curtain!"

"You are a bore, an idiot,-"

"You tried to look at my person in the bed!"

***Aha! Get yourself out of that one, my lady poor pitiful me!***

"I did NOT peek at you in the bed!" Oh, but she was indignant, and red in the face to boot. "I was joking with you, and," she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her fists white knuckled and beating the air uselessly at her side, "you WERE covered up! Besides, I saw you in the bath in all your Horse Lord glory, if you will recall!"

***oh. That's right. I forgot...***

With the swiftness of an experienced master tactician, Gamling quickly changed direction and tone. "Regardless, you purposely plotted with Eowyn to drag me out here, away from prying eyes. You said yourself that you have more food and wine than you would need!"

***Take that!***

Her eyes narrowed and her voice dropped an octave. "You think I did this a-purpose? To get you out here to...

"Aye, My Lady!"

She was growling, and it was NOT a pretty sound. She jabbed her finger in his face. "You are such a man!"

"Thank you for noticing, My Lady."

Her finger had never left his face. "You think you know it all and you know nothing!"

Gamling was working hard to follow her finger. "Nothing? Are you sure?"

"Positive! I have worked hard, ensuring your room was habitable, and removing the stench, the leavings of that... that..."

"Cretin?"

"...that... don't interrupt me!... odoriferous creature, seeing to your comfort. Eowyn was kind enough to allow me the afternoon free. I'm sorry you were sent on a wild goose chase, but I assure you I am quite capable of taking care of myself. …omer even checked Adenydd's hooves and shoes for me and told me-"

"Wait!" Gamling caught her finger and held it in a firm, but gentle grip. "…omer, the king's nephew, checked your horse himself?"

She jerked her finger from his grasp. "There is only one …omer that I know of and yes, he did, this morning before you pulled your lazy arse out of the bed!" She was rubbing the offended digit. "He even told me about this place!" She turned her back to him and stalked off. "I was having a lovely afternoon before you arrived. And to think, I liked you!" She moved back into the small knot of trees.

Gamling felt as if he had been kicked in the gut. Eowyn AND …omer plotting and planning and Aefre all unwitting? Oh, this stank worse than Grima Wormtongue's furs!

***dumb dumb DUMB you messed up no more magicfingers or sweetsweetsweet mouth...***

Well, if anything, she did deserve an apology, an explanation. If the Siblings Terrible were in league, they would soon have Gamling and Aefre at each other's throats-

*** You were already at her throat, dimwit!***

He followed her into the cluster of trees and watched as she resheathed her small knife.

***Ridiculous woman! Armed with a knife!***

***... and one evilly wicked foot - very well planted...***

"Aefre?"

"Go away!"

She was now angrily shoving the wineskin back in the large rucksack that lay nearby. He walked up behind her. "Aefre..."

"Leave me a... lone!" She raked an arm across her face.

***You pile of Orc dung! You made her...***

Gamling's self-loathing reached an unaccustomed high point, rivaling the feeling he had when at the wise old age of five, he had decided to show his father a thing or two and ride his big warhorse. Despite being told firmly to leave the cantankerous animal alone, Gamling climbed aboard anyway and promptly found himself flying through the air and landing on his arse at his father's feet. He couldn't remember what hurt his arse worse; landing hard on it, or after his father had beaten it.

His pride had been fairly wounded as well.

Another lesson his father had drummed into him was that a Rider did not make a woman cry. That was the job of Orcs and death. Mentally berating himself would become a popular pastime if he didn't at least try to offer an explanation.

"Aefre?"

"What part of ‘go away' do you not understand?"

He reached over her and gently removed the rucksack from her grasp. "I have made an error. At least allow me to apologize." Holding the rucksack in one hand, he extended his other to help her from the ground.

She begrudgingly allowed him to lift her from the shaded floor. "A Rider who apologizes? I should be so blessed," she mumbled.

***And only I would be saddled with a woman whose mouth is more tart than the those of the whores at the brothel!***

"It appears, My Lady," this time the honorific did not seem to be as mocking as before, "that not only do you cause me to be unusually verbal," (she snorted at that), "but that we are the victims of the machinations of the children of …omund."

"Their victims?" Aefre snarled. "What in all of Arda are you talking about? Eowyn has been nothing but kind to me and …omer has -"

" - measured the span of your hips with his hands."

The Horse Lord was favored with the sight of her jaw hanging agape.

***Hmmm, must tuck that one away when I want to silence that constantly moving mouth...***

"He what?"

***Knew it! Too good to last...***

He cocked an eyebrow.

"That... that... brat!" She intended to continue, but the Rider held up a leather - clad hand, palm out.

"That brat is too old to do what he does. And when he and his sister set their minds together, they are damn near dangerous."

Everything he had said came crashing in on Aefre's senses. "Those two are setting us up!" she hissed, ignoring his hand to be silent.

***oh, finally smart sweetsweet smart thing...***

Deliberately, he removed his gloves and tucked them into his belt. His hand came up to her face slowly; his fingers moved, his thumbs brushing errant tears from her face, before going back to slowly stroke her lower lip. It sent chills down her spine and she tried to ignore the feeling. "Béma's Great Steed! I'm too old for these sorts of shenanigans!"

"Ah yes, veritable ancient crone you are..."

***... did I just say that aloud?...***

Anger that had been focused on Théoden's wards was now directed at him. In a strange way , he reveled in the heat of it. "Of course," he ambled on, deftly changing the subject, "if Théoden hears of their antics, he will take over, and then we will be truly doomed."

***... look contrite, saddened, frown more, awfulawful sad sweetsweet smart...***

"Well, I have news for them..."

***Argh! The wagging finger again! Bite it! Quickly!***

"I will choose with whom I will spend time-"

***Aye, you will, as long as it's with me... where did THAT come from?***

"-I'm not some light skirt to chase or dally with!"

***... oh noooo, not a bit...***

"Who do they think they are, anyway?"

***uhm... royal family?***

Oh, she was in a fine huff , totally unaware of Gamling's sniggering thoughts. The finger had stopped its dance, and she was now using it to tap her lip thoughtfully.

"I wonder what on Arda possessed them to pull such a trick as this?"

Gamling tossed the rucksack down and then followed its path as well, settling heavily on the ground. He backed up to the tree and grabbed the bag. "They don't need a reason." He opened it and began to pull out food; huge sandwiches made with beef and spicy mustard, on crusty fresh bread...

***...my favorite...***

"Aefre, are you fond of roasted beef with mustard?"

She made a moue. "No. Not really. I was quite shocked to find it, as I had told Eowyn I preferred roast fowl. She had the rucksack..." Dawning understanding slowed her speech. "Béma, have we been-"

"- set up." Gamling finished for her. He dug through the sack, pulling out one... two... three wineskins-

*** I won't be able to function! Where were their brains?***

- and what appeared to be two small roast quail, wrapped in several linens. "You might as well sit down and enjoy the food." He thrust the fowl in her direction and after she took it, he dug through the rucksack some more, finding apples and carrots. Putting them back, he contemplated his sandwich, turning it as if to decide on the best point of attack. "I'm starving and I'm going to be awhile eating." He dusted away the few errant pinecones away next to him and gestured for her to sit. Aefre made sure to be out of arm's reach as she sat down, and if she noticed Gamling's grin, she said nothing to him. They ate in comfortable silence, listening to...

Nothing. No sound, no birds, no insects. Silence.

"Aefre?"

"Hmm hmmm?"

He waited a second before continuing. "How long were you here before I ... invaded your solitude?" He watched her chew thoughtfully for a few seconds before she swallowed and wiped her bottom lip with her thumb.

"Half an hour. Maybe a touch more."

Gamling finished what he had decided was his sandwiches and grabbing a wineskin, pulled his knees up and sat propped against the tree, with his chin in hand, watching between trees as Dréogan and Adenydd rubbed their necks together.

*** So Eowyn sent me as soon as the dust had settled. She's found, she's fine. She feels manipulated, I feel manipulated, damnation, we are being manipulated, Théoden's refugees...Béma, what to do, does she want this... do I want... no... Béma, someone needs to take a consensus of the refugees, has anyone done that?... kiss her again, no...***

"Gamling?"

His response was simply to look at her and shove a wineskin at her.

***... not pretty, not young, not ugly, not old, ... just... something...***

"Have …omer and Eowyn... done this before? You know... matchmaking completely happy people?"

***Ah. What has happened to my assertive, self-assured Lady?***

"Aye."

"Oh."

Silence.

"How often?"

"Seven times."

"Oh."

He waited for the next obvious question. It wasn't long in coming.

"Any... successful-"

"All of them."

"Béma!"

"Don't swear!" he admonished mockingly.

She took a long pull from the wineskin. A small drop trickled from the side of her mouth. Despite the beef and spicy sauce he had just eaten, he could still taste the lingering savor of their kiss. It took every ounce of self - control he had to keep from leaning over and licking the wayward bead from her lip.

"What are we going to do?"

A disdainful look crossed Gamling's face as he emptied the last of the wine from the skin. "We who?"

Aefre grabbed the empted wineskin from his hands. "We *we*, that's who! According to you, they have a perfect record. I don't know about you, but I am not looking for a husband! And I certainly don't want two younglings who know nothing of love trying to arrange my love life!" Aefre shoved what was left of the food and wine back into the rucksack. She stood up and turned on her heel, leaving him sitting on the ground.

He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his sword belt, and slinging it on. With long strides, he caught up with her as they exited the small grove. "What do you want, Aefre?"

She scanned the horizon, eyes lingering on the not quite yet ready to set sun. "What do I want?" she stated wistfully. "What I want is... I want to be independent again. I want a way to live in my house again. I want... I want... what I want is..."

"Yes?"

She was squinting over the horizon. "What I want to know is, where are our horses?"

***
tbc
***

Rider of the Mark 07

Riderless in the Setting Sun

***

***Our... what?***

Gamling's head jerked up and he looked around.

No Dréogan... no Adenydd...

"They can't be far," he stated softly. "They were just here."

He heard her inhale through her teeth and mentally prepared himself for the onslaught. "If your stallion has done anything to my Wingfoot..."

"Believe me," he started dryly, "if Dréogan has done anything-"

"Dréogan? You named your horse ‘suffers'?"

Gamling reached and took the rucksack from her. "Aye. He makes me suffer!" he growled. He ignored Aefre's choked laughter. "He was harder than Morgoth's chains to break, is head-strong, refuses to neck rein-"

"Difficult beastie."

"Aye." Gamling reluctantly agreed. "Very difficult." He inserted his thumb and middle finger into the edges of his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.

"Just like his Rider," she muttered softly.

"I heard that," he growled back. He whistled a second time. This time, he was answered by a shrill whinny and almost immediately, both horses came over the rise and waited. Slinging the rucksack over his shoulder, he grabbed Aefre's hand and took off towards the horses.

"I picked his sire and dam myself, was there for his conception-"

"Just Gamling?"

"-was present for his birth. Made sure he knew the touch of my hand and the sound of my voice within a day!"

"Gamling?"

"I curried him, mucked his stall, fed him from my hand-"

"Gamling!"

"- and he makes me suffer!"

"GAMLING!"

The Horse Lord suddenly met with resistance as the woman he had in tow dug in her heels and refused to budge. Her yanking backwards caused him to stumble slightly and he turned on her in ire. "Woman-"

"Either turn me loose or slow down!" she shouted. "Your legs are longer than mine and I can't keep up!"

***Your legs? Would love to wrap them around my neck...***

He dropped her hand as if it had suddenly become a burning iron. "I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare apologize!" Aefre snatched her dropped hand up and began storming towards her horse. "Every time I turn around, you're apologizing for offending me, for misunderstanding, for dragging me through the dirt!" She stopped long enough to pull aside her riding skirt and stuck her grass stained boot into the sunlight in order to inspect it. "Next thing I know, you'll be apologizing for being a man," she smirked. "Béma forbid; we can't have that!" She turned on her heel, realizing that deep down, her feelings were hurt because he had dropped her hand instead of slowing down. She squashed the capricious thought and made a beeline for her frolicking mare.

Gamling watched her walk off, torn between the strange feeling that he had upset her and kicking himself for not just slowing down.

***Béma!***

Never had he been in such a state of confusion over anything-

***That's not true! Women do this to me all the time...Nay! Not all the time. Just this woman!...Doomed, doomed, we are both doomed. …omund's brats and Théoden maybe?... doooooomed....***

Gamling looked up from his inner musings and realized Aefre had covered quite a bit of distance. He had to hurry to catch up to her. Adenydd and Dréogan were playing; nipping and rearing, in constant motion. Aefre's hand moved to her belt pouch and she removed a pair of supple leather riding gloves.

"Come now, Adenydd. Stop playing with Dréogan and let's head home." She encased long, lean fingers into the soft hide, flexing them to ease the fit.

Adenydd nickered merrily and moved off.

Gamling snickered at the thought of her horse refusing to come to her mistress, but the grin soon faded when his well-trained warhorse did the same to him. For the following half hour, every advance the man and woman made towards the two horses, the horses pulled back, keeping a consistent distance between them and their riders. It was obvious that the four - legged animals considered it a great game - one they were winning.

"Gamling, unless they either stop or we figure a way to catch them, we will be hours walking." Aefre wasn't winded in the least -

*** Of course not! Her lungs get so much exercise bellowing at me!***

- but she was visibly irritated. "The sun will be setting soon and I do not relish being this far from Edoras on foot."

"Neither do I." Gamling noticed the horses had not moved further; they had seen the two humans stop their advance. He set the rucksack down and...

Smiling mischievously, he squatted down, opened the top and pulled out the last two apples. "My Lady, does your Wingfoot like apples or carrots?"

"Carrots." She smiled at the Horse Lord, seeing his ploy. "This is really mean."

"Do you wish to walk?" Handing her three long carrots, he stood up and began to toss one of the apples in the air.

"Not particularly."

"Dréogan!" The horse stopped his play with the grey mare and was now watching His Man warily, eye - balling the constantly - in - motion apple. "There are two things in all of Arda that Dréogan loves more than anything. One is stomping Orcs into the ground and the other is," he stopped in mid-toss and took a bite of the fruit, "apples. This one," he held it up for inspection, "is quite good." He addressed his agitated steed. "This is a distinctively fine apple, Dréogan! You don't mind if I eat the last one?"

Apparently, his trusty and faithful steed did mind. With a bellow, Dréogan charged the man, bearing down at an impossible speed, stopping just short of the Rider who seemed unfazed that he had come within a hair's breath of being run down by his own horse. As Dréogan snatched the apple from mid-air, Gamling calmly took hold of his bridle and reins. "Playtime is over, big fellow." He handed the horse the second apple and looked over his shoulder to see Adenydd happily munching on carrots.

Aefre put her arm around her mare and was speaking softly. "Can't resist a finely tossed mane now, can you?" She looked up and smiled -

***shyly? She's shy? Strange, strange little witch...***

- at Horse and Horse Lord. "He's got nice eyes too, Adenydd." She reached out with another carrot and whispered in her horse's ear. "His Rider is not so bad either - when he's acting civilized!" Adenydd nickered, almost a laugh and brushed her mistress's ear with her muzzle.

While Gamling had heard the compliment to his horse, he did not hear what she had said about him. He watched as Aefre came around and gathered Adenydd's reins. Feeling unusually gentlemanly, he called out, "Would you like a leg u-"

And was immediately graced with the sight of a long bare leg, being thrown over the side of the mare.

*** AAAAAAAAAH OOOOOOOOOOOOH!***

Aefre settled into the saddle and arranged her skirts around her thighs.

***legslegslegs long firm legs around my neck...***

Gamling clamped down on the teenaged voice in his head and asked quietly, "You ride astride, My Lady?"

"Riding sidesaddle is for dainty, delicate women, which is something I am not! Besides," she added blithely, "it's a good way to get killed! Would you want to ride side-saddle?"

Gamling went to the opposite side of his horse and pulled up.

*** I see leggings and tunics in your future, if you are going to insist on riding about...***

With a nudge and a light jab of their heels, Riders and steeds slowly made their way towards Edoras.

***

They traveled in comfortable silence, watching the sun prepare for its descent behind them. They had crossed the stream before she broke the silence. "Just Gamling?"

He raised an eyebrow to the obvious playful tone.

"I wasn't privy to the conversation this morning. What did Pippin do and why did Gandalf rush from Edoras with him?"

It was not a question he expected.

***Tell her? No? Yes? Would it... the truth shall come out soon enough...***

Aefre watched him battle with inner thoughts. His face never changed, but if one looked closely, you could the slight clenching of his jaw, beneath his beard. Several times, he opened his mouth to speak, only to clamp it shut. "If you would rather not-"

"Nay! It is all right." Gamling's jaw clenched one more time. "Gandalf has one of the seeing stones. The Hobbit decided to look himself and saw the Great Eye of Sauron."

"Poor Pippin!" Aefre moaned in sympathy for the little Halfling. "What a ghastly thing for him to see."

Gamling shoot his head ruefully. "Aye, but the worst is that Sauron saw Pippin and thinks he has the One Ring."

"The One Ring? It's been found?"

***HAH! Don't know everything, do you, my funny little witch!***

Quickly, Gamling told her what he knew: The Hobbits, the split Fellowship, the One Ring. Aragorn, the King of Gondor.

"Gandalf has taken Pippin to Minas Tirith, not only for safekeeping, but to prepare the way for the Ranger. He does not think the current Steward will be willing to accept Aragorn as King. When the time comes, he will have the beacons lit. Aragorn expects Rohan to answer."

"Expects?" Aefre gritted between her teeth. "Rohan must answer! The horde at Helm's Deep will be nothing compared to the armies of Mordor! If we combine forces with the other Nations of Men, we stand a better chance of defeating Sauron!"

Gamling stared at her in the setting sunlight, grudgingly respectful in his thoughts. "Pity."

"Pity?" She snorted. "What's a pity?"

***Somehow, this will come out wrong, I know it, she will take offense...***

"You grasp things quickly. ‘Tis a pity, you were not born a man."

Her jaw tightened; he could feel the tension, her muscles tightening. When she finally spoke, it was a dangerously soft whisper. "So, because I'm a woman, my thoughts and opinions are not as respected?"

*** I knew it! Damn it, I knew it! Damned touchy woman!***

"No, I didn't say that. You grasped immediately what …omer and I spent a great deal of time convincing the King of. I can only pray to the Valar that the Men of Belfalas, Langstrand, and other countries answer as well."

"The ‘men' of Belfalas?"

***uh oh. This does not bode well...Can I not say anything right?...***

"Yes. Men. If... when," he amended, "Gondor calls, the Rohirrim and hopefully other soldiers will answer."

"And no women will answer?"

***Women? Is this what this is...***

Gamling burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. The thought of a woman... her... in armor... fighting...

"What's so funny?"

"I'm... sorry... really, Aefre..." He tried to stop, but was finding it impossible. "You would... mess up your dress." He doubled over, laughing harder.

"You think I would not be a worthy opponent?" Aefre's voice was deadly soft and had Gamling not been laughing so hard from the absurdity of it all, it would have and should have worried him.

"Oh, aye, and a very worthy opponent! I'll leave the Orc-Hobbits to you and your not- so-paltry-dirk!" He chortled at his own joke. "Or... better yet! The ‘men' can use you as bait! You can recline and feign sleep on the open battlefield and wait for some unsuspecting Uruk-hai to bend over you so you may shove your foot up his-" Aefre turned her back to him and trotted off in a huff. "- Oh, come now, Aefre!" He bumped Dréogan on the side and caught up with her. "Aefre! You can't be serious!

She spun her mount around, fury very evident on her face. "You great lummox!"

***Ah! A new name! My command of the Westron language expands daily!***

"Does the term, ‘Shield Maiden' mean anything to you?"

Gamling shrugged good-naturedly. "A more antiquated title that-"

"ARGH! Béma save me from being saddled with a hard - headed, old - fashioned, ale - swigging, self- absorbed-"

"Lummox!" Gamling jovially finished for her. He took in her scowl. "Aefre! Surely, you are jesting!" It was a statement, clear and thorough, not a question in the least.

"Who do you think defends these lands when the ‘men' go off to war?"

"Aefre..."

"When Gondor's beacons are lit and every able-bodied Horse LORD rides off," she interrupted hotly, "who do you think defends home and hearth? The Ghosts of our Fathers? The infirm? The elderly?" Aefre was as close to hysterical as Gamling had ever seen. "I trained alongside my brother! I sparred almost daily with my husband! We fought Orcs, Mountain Men side by side! I have killed my share of invaders and not once did I faint dead away because I broke a nail! My husband trusted and respected my skill. Maybe if I had been with him, he wouldn't have-" She stopped abruptly and snapped her mouth shut.

Gamling eased his horse next to her, facing her, and placed his hand on Adenydd's mane, stroking the mare. "Wouldn't have what?" he asked softly.

She glared at him.

***furyfuryfurythefireburnssohot... how close have I come to the actual furnace? Finally?***

"Come, Aefre. I'm going to start thinking you do not finish what you start." Grasping Adenydd's bridle between her ears, he pulled the two closer. Adenydd did not shy back; in fact she seemed to welcome the closeness to Gamling's destrier. "Wouldn't have what?"

He watched her chew on her lip for a moment. "My husband wanted a bloody boar for the Yule Feast," she gritted between clenched teeth. "So, he, my father, and my brother went on an early morning hunt. They were ambushed by mountain men. My father and brother were killed; their mounts hacked. My husband wasn't wearing a helmet and took a blow to the head that should have killed him instantly!" She swallowed hard. "It didn't." She looked away for a moment, obviously collecting and repositioning her self control, before turning and staring Gamling in the eye. "I can't help but wonder.." She stopped and took a deep, cleansing breath. "I'm sorry," she finally continued. "I should not be divulging my troubles to you."

Gamling's hand moved up Adenydd's neck as he nudged Dréogan closer. His leg was now pressed against Aefre's knee, and his own leather - clad hand held her own.

"Finish. You can't help but wonder what?"

Her mouth opened once, only air escaping before finally - - - "I can't help but wonder whether, if I had been there, the outcome would have been different."

"What difference would you have been able to make, Aefre?" It was a simple question, not said to mock or hurt her cruelly.

This closeness to him was burning; something she was not prepared to encounter, much less deal with. She yanked her mount away from him; jerking away from him. "I would have watched his back!" With a disdainful sniff, Adenydd turned and walked off, taking her angry mistress with her.

***Ah! Another piece of your puzzle drops in place, My Lady! She doesn't want a husband! She wants an equal... with dangling parts!.... hothothothot oh the furnace is stoked! Dooomed, I say... we are both so doooomed... ***

Again, he caught up with her and cut in front of her.

"You still grieve."

"Grieve?" she spat. "What time was there for that? I had a household to run, my sister - in - law gave birth and she was totally inept at running a hall. I had to rein in staff, deal with Riders. I had people to feed, elderly to take care of. There was spring planting for both households. There were still raids from Orcs and Mountain Men." Finally, she slumped and sighed. "I grieved when I could - deep in the night, under the covers, buried under pillows when no one could hear me." She backed up and edged around him. "I grieve his loss no more. I simply want to put my own life back together and live as I will."

The next thought came unbidden and it shocked him in its simplicity.

***Respect. She wants respect. And control over her destiny.***

Deep sigh.

***I suppose I could give her that.***

With a nudge, he set Dréogan on an intercept course and soon pulled along side of her. "I am sorry." He watched her stiffen in resolution.

"You are the most apologetic Rider I have ever met." She whispered. "Damned annoying!"

"Yes, My Lady."

Aefre shook her head, biting off an angry retort. ‘Why in Arda does he insist on calling me that?' she thought to herself. "Ah," she finally gave over. "Pay no attention to me. I'm just a silly old woman."

Gamling heard the self- derision in her voice. "Silly? No. Old? That's debatable."

She stared hard at him for a moment before bursting out in laughter, immediately releasing the tension.

For several minutes, they walked in silence, each watching the other, how the other handled their horse.

***... she has a loose grip on the reins...***

***...he sits his mount well...***

***... at least she doesn't bob around like a novice...***

***... he is almost one...***

***... what a Rider she would be, she is one with...***

***... with his...***

***...her...***

***... horse...***

***...horse...***

Silence.

Comfortable for him.

Not for her.

***barebarebarelegs wrapped around...***

"So," Aefre finally spoke, interrupting his nefarious thoughts, "Your horse likes apples as much as he likes stomping Orcs? Must be fine sport, indeed!"

In the dimming sunlight, she saw a hint of a smile. "His second summer, Dréogan found a barrel of apples and ate every last one. How he managed to open his stall door is still beyond me." Gamling shook his head at the memory. "I walked this damn horse for a day and a half, to keep him from foundering! And what was the thanks I got?" He leaned forward, talking directly to Dréogan "I got a mule-headed, taxing beast-"

"You have a steed who is loyal to you as he is to none other."

***True.***

They continued on; the only sound heard was the clopping of Dréogan's and Adenydd's hooves. Aefre was not one for comfortable silences and she began to ask him questions, questions he grudgingly answered, questions about his family, his childhood, how his fathers had served the kings of Rohan. He in turn, asked her why she had named her mare ‘Wingfoot' and she responded by challenging him to race in the setting sun. Théoden was right - she rode like the wind and beat him soundly. He acquiesced with no lordly grace, stating clearly his steed was not only weighed down with heavy Rohirrim armor, she had also cheated-

"Cheat? Me? I never cheat! What an absolutely horrid thing to say!"

- by taking off on HER signal.

Eventually, she forgave him for his jokingly ungentlemanly remarks and he questioned her on her family. She regaled him with lively tales of growing up in the Wold, a loud, energetic household. She reiterated her schooling, her weaponry and riding training. Eventually, she got around to her husband; his family, his kin. Gamling slowly and methodically peeled her many layers away, exposing bits and pieces of her that she had kept hidden and protected for years. Again, she dwelt on her desire for independence, to not be a burden to anyone, as she felt like one to Eowyn. She talked about the wild beauty, yet unforgiving way of life in the Wold. Slowly, with a several well-placed questions, he pulled the conversation back to her husband.

Who her husband was. The fact he had no siblings.

Who her husband's parents were.

Their siblings. So very few.

The children of their siblings.

Names. Names and dates and places.

By the time they reached Edoras in full dark and guided by the lanterns lighting up the guard posts, Gamling had come to the clear conclusion that something was very wrong in Aefre's part of the Wold.

Very wrong indeed.

***
tbc
***

***

Doomed is such a nasty little word

***

…omer checked Firefoot's left rear hoof one last time before standing up. He stretched leisurely, and looked up into the rafters of the barn. Finally, he spied some cobwebs and climbing the stall door, he scooped a handful of the gooey mess. He touched Firefoot on the flank, the horse automatically lifting the hoof. Packing the cobwebs into the frog firmly, he reached for the ointment and liberally greased the hoof. "There you go." He wiped his hands on the rag laid to the side. "This should be all you need to fix that sore foot." He quickly cleaned up his mess and, giving the stallion a small handful of alfalfa, he stepped out of the stall and-

- immediately found himself pressed against the wall, his nose in a tight and familiar grip.

"Gambin! Howb farrb bu?"

"How could you do such a fool-hardy thing?"

"Gambin! Muh dooze-" the hand went from his nose to his throat. "Ah." …omer squeaked. "Good to see you in such a fine mood! And how fares the sweet Aefre?"

"Not... so... sweet," Gamling banged …omer against the wall, "considering I rudely interrupted her planned sojourn of solitude!"

"Gamling!" …omer was wiggling, trying to squirm out from under the Horse Lord's grip. "I didn't know you knew such big words!" …omer's glibness found him thumped again against the wall. "Really, Gamling! This is no way to treat your future king!" he chided humorously.

"My... *thump*... future... *thump*... king.. *thump*... wouldn't send *thump*... a Lady... *thump*... to wander!...*thump*..." Gamling turned loose of …omer and watched as the Marshal sagged at the knees. …omer glared up at the older Marshal, rubbing his throat.

"Such behavior is not respect-"

"Don't start! Respectful behavior indeed!" Gamling was glowering, hands clenched at his side. "Of all the irresponsible, immature things to do-"

"I take it your romantic tryst didn't work out as expected?" …omer's eyes were squeezed shut. Damn! The man did not know his own strength.

"Romantic tryst?" Gamling hissed. "Is that what you are calling it? You and Eowyn are damned dangerous! You should both be put back in swaddling and tied to your chairs! Did it occur to you that I'm happy alone? That Aefre is happy in her independence?"

"Are you really happy, Gamling?"

***Ah, now there's a question...***

"…omer! In less than a month, more than likely sooner, Rohan will be called to war! The chances of us returning are slim to none!" Gamling watched the words sink into …omer's mind.

"Don't you want someone to return to if we do?" …omer asked quietly.

***... and that's another question... ***

"I do not need your or Eowyn's help in securing a bed partner."

…omer was now propped up against the wall of the barn, arms crossed in front of his chest. "I was wondering. Eadignes has been asking about you at the brothel." He began to inspect his nails. "I'd say the wench... misses... your attentions."

"I'm sure you have done an excellent job reassuring her." Gamling's voice was low pitched and dangerous, the very timbre of it caused chills - and not the good kind - to crawl up …omer's spine like a spider. He realized that he had crossed the line with his old friend and mentor and his back - pedaling was almost comical to watch.

"I did not mean to offend. You have been withdrawn as of late and your friends worry." He swallowed once. "I miss Hama, too. I know the two of you were close."

"He kept me from killing you many times." Gamling responded mildly.

…omer smiled a little nervously. "I am most grateful, truly. I know he was like a brother to you."

***yes, he was like a brother...***

Gamling backed off, just a hair.

"Besides," …omer continued on, rambling now, "Uncle has called us off to leave you and the comely Aefre alone..."

***...what?...***

"...said Eowyn and I were amateurs-"

"What?"

…omer's smile became wicked. He had him now! "Ah yes. We have been told to step back and watch someone who knows -"

***... doomed! We are doooooomed...***

" - what they are doing." The younger Marshal chuckled. "You might as well plan the wedding, Gamling." …omer managed to duck around the otherwise occupied Horse Lord and slink towards the barn door. "Admit it, it could be worse. You like her. She likes you. There have been worse beginnings!"

…omer fled the barn, laughing like a loon, while Gamling was left behind, banging his head against the wall.

***

Aefre sat at the table, bread, cheese, and wine before her. It had been a busy morning. To her relief, Gamling was up and out by the time she arrived in his rooms to oversee the hanging of bed curtains and tapestries. She found a few battle scenes and banners in unused rooms and tucked away in closets and had had them cleaned the day before. Willan aided her in the setting up of the wall hangings and made sure the items in the bath area were placed properly. Before she left the room, she checked to make sure everything was in order. The Marshal would be easy to look after; he seemed to live a Spartan existence. What little he had was clean, well cared for. He didn't seem to be a collector of trophies, of odds and ends. He had found a spot for everything and, in a sense, Aefre was dismayed at the empty, unused space in the room.

Her assigned room was smaller and even though she had come with only a few small trunks, every iota of space was taken in her chamber. Things lovingly collected and treasured over the years. Family items, gifts from her husband...

"Are you going to squeeze the cheese through your fingers, Aefre?"

She looked up, startled, at the king, who sat down next to her, smiling indulgently. He pointed to her hand and she could see the small block of cheese being misshapen around her fingers.

"Oh dear." She put the cheese on her platter and smiled self- consciously. "My mind was occupied, sire. I wasn't paying attention."

"So I see." Théoden reached into the trencher and pulled out a small loaf of bread and some cheese as well. "You had a good ride, yesterday?"

Aefre was busy pulling apart her loaf and smearing the soft cheese onto the bread. "Yes. Adenydd badly needed the exercise." She smiled and shrugged. "Apparently, I did as well."

It was quiet for a moment, the sound of murmuring between people in the hall not very noticeable.

"Gamling found you easily?" Théoden asked quietly.

"Yes." She answered tersely.

The King's eyebrow raised slightly in amusement at her self-reliant attitude. She hadn't changed a bit from her young years. "I hope he wasn't too harsh or hasty in his temper?"

Visions of Gamling's lips hovering before descending on hers, flitted through her mind. "We had an interesting... afternoon."

Théoden didn't know what to make of that and decided that rather than to pursue the subject, he would just make his decree and be done with it.

"We were worried about you yesterday, Aefre." He poured himself a goblet of wine and then one for her as well. "I would ask a favor from you." He didn't wait for her to respond. "I will not ask that you do not exercise your horse. I know you too well. The Wingfoot needs to get out, as do you. Ah! Gamling!" Théoden looked up and caught the eye of the Horse Lord. "Have a seat!" He motioned to the spot on the other side of Aefre. As the Horse Lord sat down next to her, Aefre realized that every nerve in her body was on fire, animated by his proximity. As for that one, he was cooler than the winds of the Foradwaith, for all the awareness he showed her.

***hothothotmagicmouthohbémapleasewrapthatmouth...***

Gamling had straddled the bench and reaching over and across Aefre, picked up a large hard roll, slightly brushing her in the process. Somehow, he managed to look around her without looking at her. "Sire?" He caught her slight intake of breath.

***Yes!***

Théoden was not oblivious to the prickling energy being generated by the two. Ah, his niece and nephew were correct. These two just needed a nudge in the right direction. "I wanted to thank you for finding Aefre and bringing her home safely, yesterday. I am sure," the stress on the word ‘sure' was unquestionable, " she thanked you as well."

Aefre glared at her king.

Gamling saw her head whip around to Théoden in shock. Smiling snidely, he leaned back in order to cross his arms over his chest. "Aye. But she could have been a little more... grateful."

Aefre's heated stare was quickly fixed on him. "I was fine!" she hissed. "I did not need rescuing."

Théoden watched the heated exchange with amusement. This was a side of Gamling rarely seen. ‘They don't need a nudge,' he thought to himself. ‘They need a cattle stick!'

"Aefre," he continued, bringing her attention back to him, "times are dangerous and I will not have my people unprotected." She opened her mouth to protest, but Théoden held up a hand to cut her off. "I will not ask you to refrain from riding out. I know how dear Adenydd is to you and the care you give her is well noted. However, I do insist you do not take her out alone. In fact," and with this, he brought his gaze to Gamling's, "as Gamling likes to exercise his horse on a regular basis, I think it best you join him."

"But, sire-" Aefre started.

"Aefre," Although he smiled as he said it, Théoden's voice was steely and brooked no argument, "it is not a request. I will not have any of my people in danger and there is strength in numbers, even if the number only happens to be two; one of my most trusted Marshal's and my most stubborn noblewoman." He stood up from the table and looked down at his two mutinous subjects. "Say ‘Yes sire, I understand'."

"Yes, sire. I understand." Gamling was quick to intone. His head dipped in respect.

"Aefre?" Her jaw was clenched in fury. "Aefre," Théoden bent over, leaning into her ear so only she - and Gamling - could hear. "Tell me you understand. You will ride with the escort I have chosen or you'll not ride at all."

"Can I not ride with any Rider who is out?"

Théoden could hear the determination in her tone. "Gamling is the only one who is consistent. Besides, I would feel much better if you were with him." He patted her gently on the shoulder. "Do you understand?"

Her shoulders slumped in dejection. "Yes, sire."

He patted again. "Good." He nodded once to Gamling, not waiting for the return nod, and left the Hall.

Both woman and Rider watched as the King strode from their presence. Gamling leaned over and whispered in Aefre's ear, "Dooooooomed." She could feel him smiling against the sensitive rim and she nudged him away, his beard tickling her cheek.

"I do not need this. I do not wish this," she sputtered over her shoulder.

"Strange. I could have sworn you enjoyed kissing me back, yesterday."

Aefre stood up with a jerk, her fists clenched tightly. "You... you... you..."

"Man?" Gamling cocked his head, with a questioning look. "Cretin?"

"Troll!"

***ah, a new word! The list just grows and grows***

Aefre was storming from the table, heading towards the halls, when she stumbled into Eowyn and …omer. Words were exchanged back and forth between the two women, not unkindly, but surprise registering on Eowyn's face, and shock registering on …omer's. Eventually, Eowyn smiled and …omer looked green with nausea as Aefre finally took her leave from the two. Eowyn moved on in a different direction as …omer stamped over to the older Horse Lord and sat down heavily next to him.

Gamling made no move, just continued to nonchalantly eat his bread and cheese while …omer huffed and hemmed. Swallowing heavily and reaching for the pitcher of mead, Gamling snorted.

"Just tell me."

"You do not want to know."

"Tell me."

"Believe me; you do not want to know."

Gamling finished pouring the mead for himself and set the pitcher down with a solid thud. "You will sit there and make rude noises until you do, so please tell me and get it over with."

…omer rolled his eyes. "Did you know that your sweet Aefre was a Shield Maiden at one time?"

***uh oh...***

"She is not my-"

"Yes, she is!" …omer stuck his finger in Gamling's face, very reminiscent of a certain female. "She's yours and you might as well get used to it!"

"Get your finger out of my face, youngling."

…omer heard the warning in the Horse Lord's voice and quickly brought his finger down. That did not stop the unyielding edge in his voice. " Yes she is, and you have to do something to stop her!"

***oh nooooo... this does not bode well...***

"I do not *have* to do anything. What has she done to irk you into behaving like a child?" Gamling didn't look at the man; simply raised his tankard and buried his nose in as far as it would go without drowning.

"What has she done? What has she done?" The second time was louder than the first and every man - including a Ranger, Elf and Dwarf - stopped what they were doing to listen in. "Apparently, she is ‘rusty' and invited my sister to spar with her in the afternoon when the Rohirrim Horse LORDS finish their practicing!"

Gamling's eyes stared daggers at …omer, but his nose and mouth never left the tankard. "She did what?" His voice echoed eerily in the depths of the mug. He was mindful that every ear in the Great Hall was listening.

"You heard me!" …omer was damn near hysterical. "You have to stop her! She's your problem. You have to-"

Gamling slammed the tankard on the table and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I do not have to do *anything,* …omer." He moved to stand up and leave.

…omer caught him by the sleeve and stood up behind him. "Gamling, I'm sorry. I don't want to cause a scene-"

"Too late."

"Gamling! They are ... well they're..."

"Women?"

"Yes, yes, yes... they're women! They..."

…omer's voice droned on, spiking up and down, but Gamling wasn't paying attention. Instead, Aefre's angry words had come back to haunt him, plaguing his thoughts, and suddenly they horribly, regrettably made sense.

"…omer!" The nephew of the king stopped his tirade, his jaw snapping shut. "When we are called to Gondor, who will be left behind to defend these lands?"

…omer's eyes shifted back and forth, thinking... thinking...

"Exactly." Gamling's expression softened. "Let them spar. It won't hurt. If anything, it will ease their own tension. Hopefully, they will never have to use those skills in battle." He clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "If it makes you feel any better, we will go and watch and have a fine laugh. Agreed?"

…omer's shoulders dropped and he chuckled. "Oh, a fine laugh indeed. Women. Fighting. With swords." He nudged Gamling in the side and snickered in his ear. "Although I would much rather see them in their underclothes wrestling in the mud, what say you?"

As the two stepped out of the Hall and into the sunlight of the outdoors, they didn't see the woman standing in the shadows, linens and hangings for a certain Horse Lord's chambers in her arms.

‘Aye,' Aefre thought to herself, ‘you're coming around, just fine. But we will see just how much you laugh.'

***

For two days, Eowyn and Aefre spent the latter part of the afternoon, sparring, practicing with broadswords and rapiers. The men who came around to watch thought it great fun when the two showed up in leggings and tunics. Gamling wondered if anyone, besides himself noticed that the clothing fit the women as if it had been made for them, not like a squire's hand-me-downs. Very quickly, however, the laughter died as the two went at it. Eowyn was good, very talented; Gamling knew this for a fact, as he and Hama had been very instrumental in teaching her as a youngster. She was quick and fast and tireless.

Aefre was out of practice, but she was moving back into form quickly. Her head remembered everything she had ever learned; now, she was forcing her body to remember. She lacked the speed Eowyn had, but she had endurance. Grudgingly, Gamling had to admit that with proper training, she would be a formidable opponent.

On the third afternoon, Aefre brought her morningstar.

Rider of the Mark 09


Just call me Angel of the Morningstar.



***

Gamling thought his eyebrows would fly right off his forehead the day Aefre showed up at the practice yard with what appeared to be a spiked metal ball, attached to a handle with a chain, the dreaded...

*** She wields a wicked morningstar...***

The comments from the surrounding Riders were about as rude as one could imagine.

"Would you look at that!" a younger one commented. Abéodan was growing his first beard, sparse and not fully covering his face yet. Gamling suspected he had not been introduced to the brothel yet, but figured it would happen by the time the call from Gondor came up. "Would you want to be chained to her for the rest of your life?"

"I don't know, Abéodan," Fyren whispered back. He was older than Gamling; had out- lived two wives. Rumor had it he had worn them out. Between the two women, he had eleven children. "A little age, a little hip span, a woman like that would be just right. Well broken in!" he leered. " She's a widow, right? I think I like this one!"

***I will rip your head from your shoulders if she does not beat me to it...***

Gamling turned back to the field, focusing on Aefre. She held the morningstar's stick firmly in her right hand, showing it to Eowyn. The young Shield Maiden was both enthused at seeing a new weapon and at the same time repulsed. It was an ugly thing; made to do one thing and one thing only.

***In the hands of the right master, it would cleanly remove the skull of a man while he was still standing. If fast enough, the victim would watch his brains hit the ground before he did. How in all Arda did she manage to acquire such of its ilk?***

He glared into the arena, the sun glinting cruelly over the edge of the barn.

***How did my sweet Aefre...***

Gamling's eyes darted back and forth, not willing to accept what his mind had just blurted.

***... no no no no no no no no...***

Eowyn now had the morningstar; was testing it, gingerly swinging it, rocking the ball back and forth. Aefre was backing up, smiling, hands up in supplication. Her words were lost in the air.

"Béma's balls, Gamling," …omer spat. "She's going to kill my sister! Where on earth did a woman get one of those?" The little Hobbit, Merry, stood next to him, eyes riveted on the scene before him.

***I'll ask her next time I have her pinned to the ground...***

"I have no idea."

Eowyn stopped swinging the weapon and was carefully handling it as they approached their horses. Adenydd and Héngist were tied to the far corner of the field and Gamling watched as Aefre neatly mounted her horse and held her hand out for the morningstar. She backed up, motioning to Eowyn. Grasping the weapon, she then lined up with the targets, pulling the ugly club from Eowyn's grasp and swinging the spiked ball on its heavy chain over her head in a whistling circle, bore down on the dummies in the corner of the yard.

All male snickering and catcalls stopped when the dummy's head exploded, straw and wood bits flying through the air.

"Béma!" …omer whispered. "She's..."

Aefre pulled Adenydd up, wheeled her around and headed back the other way, the morningstar in her hand. She flipped it back and then swung it forcefully forward, decapitating the practice-dummy used by the men for sword training.

"Good," Gamling finished for him. His eyes had narrowed and he did not let the woman out of his sight.

***If she makes one mistake, one error, it could be costly. She is rusty, out of practice, one wrong move...***

Aefre carefully handed the morningstar to Eowyn, using both hands to hold the chain and jagged head close to the club. While Eowyn's horse Héngist shied slightly, Adenydd had not been the least bit afraid of the thing. Silently, Gamling applauded whoever had trained the mare. The dapple and Aefre worked well together, communicated with movement and ...

*** dammit dammit dammit***

Eowyn was swinging the heavy ball and chain clumsily, barely missing her own head. Gamling noticed …omer had his eyes squeezed shut and was cringing, making noises, as his sister charged the next dummy.

Its head did not explode, but it was killed just as thoroughly.

"Morgoth's Chains!" Legolas had crept up on the other side of Gamling. Aragorn and Gimli were with him. "If I did not abhor the sight of females on the battle field, I would want those two fighting with me."

Several more times, the two women rushed battle dummies and stacks of hay bales in the corner of the practice yard, usually Eowyn striking while Aefre cheered her, instructed her. Eventually, the two dismounted and, tying their mounts again to the far side of the yard fence, - Gamling noticing the long glance Eowyn gave the Ranger - they walked back to the center of the ring and assumed battle stances. Aefre was talking a mile a minute...

***she never shuts up, is never quiet...***

... she gave the weapon to Eowyn and then held up her own shield prepared to...

***... block her? BLOCK HER? Béma save us all, one does not fight well on the ground with... one of them will kill the other...***

Quickly, Gamling bent and pulled himself between the planks of the fence, striding confidently through the dirt. Eowyn's back was to him and Aefre was paying no attention to him. Her focus was clearly on Eowyn and he could now hear her clearly.

"... definitely has the advantage on the horse." She began to back up, raising her shield " If you see someone coming on a horse with that, you run! You can't defend yourself!"

So intent was she on her instruction, Eowyn never saw the Horse Lord behind her. She was facing Aefre, holding the morningstar casually to her side.

Gamling approached her quickly, silently as if on cat's paws. He knew Eowyn well, knew as well as her brother that she had a tickle spot that would bring her to her knees. He had watched …omer too many times; Gamling had done it himself when she was younger and more apt to play, as had Hama. Approaching her, he bent suddenly and clipped her behind the knees.

Eowyn squealed, dropping the morningstar, and fell to her knees. As she collapsed, Gamling dove around her, grabbing Aefre, and, rolled her away from the morningstar, from Eowyn. He could hear her screaming...

***Béma, the pitch...***

...and pummeling on his shoulders.

The cheers and jeers from the Riders were deafening.

"Get her, Gamling!"

"Show her who the Rider is!"

"Put her in her place!"

Gamling was disgusted, mentally taking note of each voice, each Rider he would personally make muck stalls for their impudent-

!CRACK!

Impudent stars and birds and little winged Adenydds and Dréogans flew around Gamling's head. Through the haze, he saw her draw her mailed fist back again.

He managed to pin it to the dirt, shaking his head to clear his mind. She reared back with her other hand.

"If you hit me, I will not be responsible for my actions." he hissed angrily. Flashing copper orbs stared daggers at him. "It is not my intention to embarrass you, only to keep Eowyn from killing you!" he continued. He stood up, bringing her with him. The catcalls and jeers were getting louder and Gamling saw the fire in her eyes. Pulling her to him, his arm going around protectively, he whispered in her ear, "You are an able Shield Maiden, yet you are admittedly out of practice."

***... she isn't accepting this.... firefirefirehothotfire...***

"Your men..." she hissed.

" - will be mucking stalls for weeks." he hissed back. "I will deal with the... cretins." He threw her word at her, uncomfortable with the feel of it in his mouth, "but back down and allow me to finish." Gamling loosened his grip and turned her loose. He went to help Eowyn up.

"Gamling?" Eowyn was a cross between angry and scared. "What did you do that for? Aefre was -"

"There are several things one must consider with a morningstar, Eowyn." His voice rose above the catcalls and he glared at the Riders who realized a heap of less than savory chores was about to placed on their heads. He turned back to Eowyn. "Aefre is correct that this is a weapon to be used on horseback." He picked up Aefre's practice shield that lay on the ground and propped it against a nearby hay bale. Picking up the morningstar from the dirt, he tested the swing, the weight. "It is rather light," he commented to Aefre. "It was made especially for you?" She nodded once. "It is still a deadly force. A shield will not protect you long from this in any case." He approached the propped shield , hefted the morningstar's handle, swung it over head, and with one mighty swing, shattered the shield. "On a horse, he is harder to reach, harder to come close to. However, on the ground, the wielder is vulnerable. His back is unguarded." He turned towards Aefre. "You have trained on foot with this?"

"Of course. It was what I was attempting to explain."

He bowed slightly, in deference. "Can you defend yourself on foot from this?"

Aefre's grin was sardonic. "I need no help, but if Eowyn wishes..."

"I wish it." The younger woman was quick to assert.

"Good." He nodded to Aefre. "Put up your shield." He waited for her to comply before addressing Eowyn behind him. "When one has a chained mace and is on foot, he is vulnerable. The morningstar is difficult to aim, it is heavy and cumbersome." He turned his attention back to Aefre, who stiffened up at him. She steadied her shield and thrust her chin out, defiantly.

*** asking for it funny little witchy-warrior...***

"On the ground, it is harder to control, harder to direct." He cast the morningstar once, purposely aiming slightly out of Aefre's path. She ducked anyway, shield up, eyes never leaving the spiked ball. "Notice, Eowyn, what Aefre is watching. Not me, not anything else, only the morningstar." He smirked and advanced, taking note that Aefre was backing up. " As one should, when being attacked thus. Is there anything else you notice, Eowyn?"

He felt the butt end hilt of her short sword in his side. "Aye. You aren't watching your back."

Dropping the morningstar, he grabbed her wrist and spun suddenly. "That's right. It's next to impossible to watch your back when you use a weapon such as this. Two people can easily gang up on someone on the ground." Gamling swooped down, picking up the cast off weapon. He started to hand it to Aefre, but then thought better of it, dropping it back in the dirt. He stepped in close. "You will want to bathe immediately, My Lady. I will see to your horse. Give me your weapons belt," he whispered.

"I can take care of my own horse and my own weapons, Just Gamling."

Gamling dipped his head, grinning. "Aefre. When we rolled in the dirt, you rolled through a fresh pile of horse droppings. Your back is covered. You do not smell very lady-like. I will see to Adenydd and your gear. Give me your weapons belt."

"Fresh? How fresh?"

"Green. And very soft."

"Ew." Aefre wrinkled her nose. "Still, I would just as soon clean my own weapons."

Gamling made a wry smile. "Give me your weapons belt. That's an order, Rider."

"Hare-brained-"

"Dullard. I know." He motioned for her belt and reluctantly, she handed it to him.

He turned away and went to untie Adenydd from the far post. "Abéodan, Fyren, …omer, Wrégan, attend me." Gamling watched as the two women dipped their heads together, smiling, before separating and going different ways. The four men stepped in between the boards of the fencing and made toward the tall Horse Lord. Gamling handed Aefre's morningstar to …omer. "I know your sister is quite able, but go to her. Reinforce that this," he shook the tightly held morningstar, "is not to be toyed with. I hope she never comes in contact with any such as this. She will listen to you." …omer smiled grimly and followed his sister into the barn.

"As for the three of you," Gamling turned seriously on the other Riders, "I am disgusted by your attitudes." Voices lifted in protest - she was a woman, she was not a Rider - and were quickly cut off with a chop of Gamling's hand. "She is a former Shield Maiden and rode as an equal by her husband's side." That quelled two of the three voices.

"Well, she doesn't ride by his side now, does she?" Fyren smirked. "Looks to me as if she needs a good Rider to keep her from making an idiot of herself in a practice field."

The man found himself grabbed by the collar. "She is respected and held in high esteem by the King, who sent for her himself."

The older man had turned red, was grasping his collar to keep from strangling. "I did not know sir, my... apologies." His eyes, however, held no such sentiment.

Gamling thrust him away and turned his attention to the two younger Riders. "You must never forget that the women of this country are as brave as any Rider and are to be respected in their own right. To tear down their abilities and defenses is abhorrent. It is dishonorable, despicable behavior for a Rider of Rohan to behave in such a way. You will *not* do it again. To aid in your memory, you-" he pointed to Abéodan, "will work as stable boy to the east wing of the barn."

"But sir-"

Another chop of the hand. "That means mucking, cleaning, feeding, all of it. You-" he pointed to Wrégan, "the other side." He waited for the two to bow and leave before giving his full attention to the older Rider. "As for you, it has been quite a while since the Royal Stalls were dug down to the foundations and limed." Fyren inhaled, his face reddening. Digging to the foundations was the hardest, the most backbreaking, demeaning of labor. "Make sure Snowmane and Firefoot's stalls are done thoroughly. In fact, add Dréogan, Adenydd, and Héngist's stalls to it." Fyren's mouth was turned down in an angry snarl and he started to turn away.

"Fyren."

The man turned back. "Yes, my lord?"

Gamling raised a single leather clad finger. "The lady is also held with respect and high esteem by me. Do you understand?"

Acrimonious dawning twisted the craggy features. "I forgot, you have marked her as yours. My apologies."

"Excuse me?"

Fyren's frown deepened. "When you carried her through the hall; you claimed her as yours. I forgot. My apologies."

Gamling watched as the man squared his shoulders back and stalked towards the barn.

***...claimed her? I didn't...Béma!...***

No one paid heed to the small Hobbit who had watched the entire show from beginning to end with such great interest.

***

Aefre sank down into the tub, soaking the grime and sweat from her body. The fire was crackling in the hearth, giving her small room a cozy atmosphere. She barely had room for the brass tub, but Willan insisted she take her bath in her room, instead of the bathhouse. She sighed heavily. Willan was a sweet soul, a gentle man, not the half-wit most took him to be. She had found a ready ear and good advice from the mute - he did know how to communicate, if one was patient. He had also been a great source of comfort to her when she first arrived, trying to weave her way around servants and Riders and Grima.

She shuddered despite the warmth. That one was a snake, a charlatan. Who knows how much damage he had caused, or would have caused more of? Several times, she had sat with Eowyn when the man had approached her, watched the young Shield Maiden. More times than Aefre cared to count, Eowyn had sat at her small table, hidden in Aefre's room, drinking mulled wine, calming her nerves after an unpleasant encounter with the man. There were times Aefre was happy that she was plain and not so slender built anymore. She drew less attention.

Her husband had been drawn to her fire, her zest for life.

And Gamling...

***...Gamling...***

What a puzzle he presented.

In thinking back, she realized she had opened up much more than she intended on their slow ride back from the grove. She also realized, much to her chagrin, that she *had* enjoyed kissing him. She caught herself fingering her lip, tracing where his tongue had...

***Béma! I'm too old for this!***

She slapped her hand into the water, not only getting the liquid into her eyes, but also wetting the furs around the tub. She scowled at her carelessness, and grabbing the small bucket next to the tub, proceeded to wet her hair and wash it thoroughly.

***Lufian had loved her hair, said it was as beautiful as her eyes, her smile. It was habit for them to bathe together, almost a ritual. She would trim his beard; he hated it scraggly and long and kept it closely clipped to his face. She had loved his hair as much as he loved hers and she would spend time afterwards, brushing it dry in front of the fire, braiding it back in warrior braids. It was long, golden, and thick, hanging to the middle of his back. Often she had dreamt of their children having hair like his; children that never came and that she always blamed herself for not providing. He fussed about the pins she used, to hold hers up and back away from her face, out of her way. She looked forward to settling between his knees, his hands working soap through the tresses, kneading, drawing the tired ache from her shoulders...

...beautiful hair, Aefre...

... lips from somewhere caressed her neck, as fingers touched her shoulders, down her arms. The hands moved under her arms, coming around and cupping her breasts, thumbs fingering, nipples coming to life from the unexpected touch. She leaned her head over onto her shoulder giving him more access to her neck. His beard tickled her unexpectedly and she grasped hard thighs that had encased her. The hands were no longer content to graze; they grasped her more firmly and pulled her into his chest, into him. Teeth nipped; her neck, her earlobe...

...sweet Aefre...

... she turned to him, turned to claim him...

... only to gaze into a face with azure blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair that glinted red in the sun; that wasn't as long and never braided...***

Aefre jerked up, forcing herself to wake from the half-sleep she found herself in. Realizing where her hands were, she snatched them from her body, splashing the furs yet again. Cursing herself under her breath, she rinsed her hair quickly, before rising from the cooling water and putting on her worn robe.

She was dressed, brushing her hair in front of the fire when Willan knocked, returning to drain the tub and bringing a chambermaid with him.

"Your things have been taken to the laundry, m'lady," the young girl curtsied. "They should be ready tomorrow when you need them." The girl took the towels and removed them from the room. Aefre waited for the door to shut.

"I hit Gamling pretty hard?" she asked him quietly.

Willan shrugged. *Not too hard, not too soft.*

"Is he bruising?"

Willan stroked around the upper cheek, close to his eye, shrugged and nodded. *A little here.*

Running her fingers through her almost dried strands, she asked him, "Do you think he would mind if I brought him a poultice for it?"

Strangled snorting.

"I don't know if that's good or not."

Willan lifted a finger, a gesture for her to wait. He left the room and ten minutes later, came back with a fresh slab of meat on a platter and a pitcher of ale, with two mugs. He handed them to her and waggled his eyebrows.

"Willan, I want to reduce the swelling of his cheek, not seduce him!"

Willan's look said it all.

*Suuuure you don't!*

"I can't carry all of this."

*Yes, you can!* Massive oak limb arms crossed over his chest.

She snorted in defeat. "I have to get my weapons back from him anyway. Béma forbid he should decide to keep my morningstar." She glared at the hulk of a man. "I would have to call him out!"

Willan chuckled in his throat.

She rearranged the platter and the pitcher in each hand, a mug hanging from the ring and pinkie finger of each hand. "Can you at least get the door for me?"

With a magnanimous sweep of his hand, the giant mute swung her door open and ushered her into the hall.

***
tbc
***

Rider of the Mark

Rider of the Mark

Chapter 10

Drinking 'bout you.

***

"You, my friend, are a dog!" The tall blond stood in front of the fireplace, contemplating life, the world and the depths of his ale. "You are a hard taskmaster, cruel, a right bastard even!" He looked over his shoulder at the Horse Lord his insults were being aimed at "Thank Béma I am NOT under your command!"

"And when you grow up, youngling, you want to be just like me." The older man was sitting, studying the nasty weapon in his hand.

The standing man snorted and turned back to the flames. "Digging down to the foundation? Fresh dirt and sawdust? Firefoot won't know what to do, Gamling!"

"Shut up and move over, …omer!" Gamling shifted in his chair "You are blocking the light."

…omer scowled and fitfully slung himself into the other chair. He raised his mug to his lips, taking a deep drink before continuing, "Fyren hates you."

Gamling was slowly turning Aefre's morningstar, examining it closely.

***According to Nerian, there are 243 refugees in the tents. That includes 129 elderly, 74 children and 52 widows. They are vulnerable... A morningstar.... a damned MORNINGSTAR! Where in Arda did she get a morningstar?... Who made this for her?... It had to be...***

"Fyren hates everyone," Gamling continued to turn the foul weapon carefully, before his eyes finally rested on her weapons belt.

*** A broadsword, a short sword, a variety of daggers.... Béma! The woman is a walking arsenal-***

"Well, Fyren REALLY hates you now!" …omer cocked an eyebrow and toasted the elder Horse Lord. "He will make your life misery, mark my words. Mucking the Royal Stalls? That makes me shudder. I haven't had to muck out a stall since-"

Gamling finally laid the morningstar at his feet and steepled his fingers. "He will muck out the stables, or he will go home and plow his fields!" Gamling stated firmly. "Or plow his next wife, poor soul," he muttered.

…omer chuckled and proceeded to rifle through Aefre's weapons, which were laid out on the small table between him and Gamling. "No woman should be armored thus. Honestly, Gamling, I don't think what they said was that bad..."

"Imagine they said it about your sister."

…omer nodded once. "They should die." He lifted his mug again. "But Fyren-"

"- had been disrespectful before you arrived." Gamling was holding her small dirk - the same one she had nicked him with - and was turning it over and over idly in his hand. He made a mental note how sharp it was, how clean. In fact, all of her weapons were well kept, oiled, sharpened.

***She might be out of practice, but she still takes care, takes pride.... dammit dammit dammit..***

"You know, you are going to have to return these to her." …omer motioned to the weapons belt and the morningstar lying on the floor. "Eowyn is right fascinated with the ugly thing. I wish Aefre had not shown it to her." The king's nephew stood up and began to gather Aefre' belt and weapons together. "In fact, I'll return these and have a word with her-"

Gamling's large, calloused hand slammed down over …omer's. "Leave them. I'll deal with them. And her."

"Oh? You are going to return them?"

"No." Gamling's visage was grim. "I know Aefre. She will come to me."

…omer smiled mischievously, pulling his hand from under Gamling's. "Have her trained already?"

Gamling picked the morningstar up and laid it in his lap gently. "I would not use the word 'trained' when it comes to Aefre."

…omer learned over, pulling Gamling's hair away from his face. "Obviously not. She got you good. Perhaps you should go to the kitchens and get a slab of meat for that. There's a freshly slaughtered cow in the smokehouse."

Gamling pulled away from the questing fingers. "I"ll take care of it later." His fingers tightened on the rod of the weapon he held in his lap.

"You know, I feared for your life when she pulled her fist back at you." …omer meandered back in front of the fireplace, and Gamling shook his head ruefully. "It's unseemly a woman should fight. And with weapons!"

**What did you expect them to fight with? Pins and needles? Frying pans?***

Again, the younger Horse Lord looked over his shoulder. "You must talk to her. She is giving Eowyn ideas!"

"Eowyn had ideas before Aefre," Gamling muttered. He lay the morningstar down on the floor before standing up to stretch. "Béma, …omer! Why did you come to my room with only one mug of ale for yourself?"

…omer was again scrutinizing the fire. "You've not been down to the Hall in ages. Or the brothel." …omer raised his mug. "Let's go down together. I'm sure one of the girls would be more than happy to attend to your eye."

"No."

…omer sighed and tried a different tactic. "You don't have to partake in any... carnal... pursuits. Come down for a drink, a game of cards-"

"There is nothing there that interests me." Gamling made his way from the fire to the window, pulling back to curtain to stare over the small fire lights and lanterns of the tent city

***What to do...***

"You are becoming more and more introverted in your dotage. You *know* that?"

Gamling leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes never left the scene outside. "I tire of fleeting moments, of temporary sating, …omer. Someday, you will too."

…omer's voice came hissing in his ear. "Not until I'm dead!" He inhaled to say something else, but was interrupted by someone knocking... no... kicking at the door.

Gamling nodded to …omer, who shrugged in acknowledgment and opened the door as it was being kicked again. Gamling's attention returned momentarily to the refugee camp.

"Milady Aefre. " …omer sounded surprised - and pleased. "Whatever brings your dainty slippered foot banging at this crass Horse Lord's door at this hour?"

***Dainty slippered foot? Let me tell you about that dainty slippered foot...***

Gamling moved away from the window and turned towards her fully.

Aefre looked from Horse Lord to Horse Lord. "If I am interrupting, I can come back later." She began to back out - with the ale and what appeared to be a platter of raw meat -

***blessblessbémablessyou***

- out the door.

Gamling reached out and took the pitcher and mugs from her, keeping her from leaving. "See, …omer, someone who knows how to bring more than enough for him or herself! …omer was just leaving, weren't you, …omer?"

"I was?" Gamling glared over Aefre's bowed head. "Oh! I was!" …omer smiled knowingly. "Yes, I was leaving." …omer dipped his head to Aefre ­ who, Gamling noticed with wry amusement, was looking at the King's nephew as if he was deranged. …omer winked at the elder Horse Lord and quietly slipped out.

For several seconds, the room was quiet, save for the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace.

***Glorious cascading hair hothothotsweethot***

"I take it you wish to share a drink with me?" The sound of his own voice in the still air sounded foreign to him.

Aefre had the good sense to blush. "Actually, no, I wish to tend to your eye, but Willan insisted I bring additional... bribery."

"Willan is a wise man." Gamling nodded sagely before turning to the table and setting down the tankards and pitcher of ale. He picked up her weapons belt and set it on his bed. Turning, he gestured to the platter she still held. "Are you going to cook that for me or did you have other plans for it?"

Aefre blinked.

Twice.

"It's for your eye." Finally, she looked up at him. "If you will sit down, I will tend to it." She stepped over and stood by his chair, expectantly.

"Aefre, you don't have to-"

"Would you PLEASE stop being a man and just sit down?" Aefre slammed the platter down, the slab of meat jiggling dangerously. "I can't reach you all the way up there, you over-grown behemoth!"

***new word new word will she ever run out?***

She tapped her foot impatiently.

Smirking at her ire, Gamling sat down with a heavy thud. He watched in amusement as she went to the water pitcher and poured a small amount into the bowl. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small square of linen that was tied in a knot. Carefully picking out the knot, she shook what looked like dirt into the water.

"What are you doing?"

"Mixing something for your eye."

"Are you trying to blind me?" he glowered.

Aefre scowled back at him, using her fingers to mix the water. "Suspicious man! For your information, it is willow bark, which is a pain killer, and comfrey, which will soothe the abrasion."

***Aye suspicious you gave me this bruise to begin with...***

She grimaced at the dried blood and dirt on the washcloth laid to the side, and picking it up in a wad, stormed from the room. She returned a few moments later with a fresh cloth and dipped it into the tepid water.

"I washed it already, Aefre."

"Not to my specifications, you didn't!" she muttered hotly. She wrung the cloth out and approached the now sitting Rider with a rather murderous glint in her eye.

"What are you so angry about, Aefre?"

"I'm not-"

"Or should I say *who* are you angry at? Your knuckles are white." Gamling nodded towards her hands.

Aefre's mouth snapped shut and she loosened her hold on the wet cloth. "I'm not-"

"If someone is going to tend to my eye, I would prefer a gentle hand."

"But I'm not-"

"Because, it's quite tender-"

"Béma! Would you shut up?" He smiled rather cheekily at her. Her cheeks were flushed red, her brows drawn down.

***Oh is she madmadmadhothotsweethot**

"If you do not stop grinning like a madman-" Gamling immediately put on his sternest face, reserved for errant squires and disrespectful Riders. "You are making it impossible for me to tend to your eye!" She gently raked his hair away from his face and he heard her hiss in anger. "Tell me if I hurt you." Aefre gently stroked around the abraded flesh.

***Owowowowowow***

"It's fine. You are not hurting me."

Fingers turned his face to the side, as she continued her ministrations. He heard her mumbling, swearing under her breath and he realized she could probably teach his men a thing or two about hair - curling epithets.

***Funny little witch OUCH pops me for swearing DAMMIT yet she-sweetsweetfinger ah-***

Again she threaded her fingers through his hair, gently holding it back.

His eyes opened to slits and he realized she was leaning over him and his nose was directly-

***Ah bliss sweet breasts of Elbereth! Béma, Remember what you said to Eomer.... I tire of fleeting... temporary sating... temporary NOTHING! Ah sweet...***

Gamling forced himself to refocus; anything else but her-

***BREASTSBREASTSBREASTS***

A dark long tendril of hair curled over her shoulder. Usually, her hair was pulled back, pinned away and braided, but tonight it was down, draping over her shoulder, glistening damp strands of ...

***In Théoden's rooms was a chair; an exotic chair made of dark sandalwood that the king had bought for his Queen, Elfhild. Its scent was unique, the wood rich and polished, where the queen had unconsciously rubbed the satiny wood. Even to this day, when Théoden was troubled, he would sit in this chair, deep in thought and stroke the knob of...***

Gingerly, he reached out, his intent to wrap the moist lock around his finger.

"I'm sorry, Just Gamling. I should not have struck you."

***What?***

"Excuse me?"

Aefre stepped back and reaching over, grabbed the steak and laid it over the side of his face. "Leave that there for a time. I said I'm sorry. I should not have hit you."

Gamling sat up straighter, holding the steak to his face. "Yes, you should have. I tackled you; you had no idea who I was. You did the right thing. Béma, this feels strange!"

Aefre was pouring a mug of ale and she handed it to him, "What feels strange? The steak?"

"No. Well, yes, it does... but... you apologizing to me. That is strange and unnatural and something is most definitely wrong in the Riddermark if it is not me apologizing to you!"

Aefre was smiling, pouring herself an ale. "Oh? And do you think I am incapable of apologizing if I have erred, Just Gamling?"

***damn saucy woman prissy witchy BREASTS sitting in my chair, in MY room, like you belong here...***

"I do not see it happening often."

Aefre laughed, again a very open, honest sound, and she raised her mug to him. "No, it does not happen often. In fact the last time I apologized was to my husband on our wedding night."

"Your husband?" Gamling asked humorously. "Dare I ask why?"

"I... nipped him too hard."

***OUCH!***

Wince. Gamling pulled his legs together in reaction. Aefre had the audacity to laugh at his reaction.

"No - it wasn't *that*! It was his fingertips."

Gamling leaned back and relaxed with a sigh. "Then remind me never to put my fingers in your mouth."

Again the air was bent with the sound of her laughter.

"Aefre, may I ask you a question?"

Her nose was deep in her mug. "Hmm hmmm," she waved him on, in what looked like an affirmative motion.

"Where did you get your morningstar?"

She froze. "Hmm?" Her voice echoed strangely in the mug.

"Where did you get your morningstar? I would have an answer. It is unusually light, so I suspect it was made for you." He repositioned the raw meat on his face and slid around, throwing a leg over the armrest of his chair. "Who would make such a weapon for a woman and why?"

Aefre set her mug down and with a well - practiced thumb, wiped her mouth. "My father. And because I asked it." She poured from the pitcher again and raised the mug.

Silence while he watched her drink. She finally drained the tankard and she set it down with a convincing thud. The look she gave him was...

... heated...

***hothothotohBémahothothot...***

"You don't believe me."

Gamling shrugged and refocused on the fire - it was safer to stare at the flames - and raised his own half full mug. "I believe you. I just wonder why any man would give his beloved daughter something so vile."

Aefre chuckled as she stood up and came over to him. She pulled the steak back and inspected his face. "It's still red and a little swollen. It might bruise, it might not. Leave it a little longer." She laid the raw meat back in place over his eye. "Have you ever been to The Wold, Just Gamling?" He shook his head. "I thought not. It is an unforgiving place, a mean place. Only the strong survive. My father gave me such a weapon because I was a beloved daughter. He gave me the means and instructed me on the ways to survive." She bent down and picked the morningstar up. "And survive I did." She then picked up her weapons belt from the table. "For a time, at least." She shouldered her weapons belt and smiled down at him. "I hope it doesn't bruise too badly. I am truly sorry." She turned to leave.

"Aefre." Gamling waited for her to stop. "Do you know Fyren?"

He watched as she shifted thoughts, searching...

"The older Rider; the one with the dozen or so children that run amuck?"

"Aye." Gamling stood, removing the meat and laying it back on the platter. "Stay away from him. In fact, go nowhere without an escort. He has a rather unsavory reputation and I do not wish for you to be... upset or put in an uncomfortable position."

She smiled. "Should I hit him if he propositions me?"

"Right in the mouth." Gamling thought for a second. "And yell. Loudly."

Aefre chuckled quietly. "Alright. Anything else?"

***dammit dammit …omer leavemetodothis...***

"When you spar with Eowyn tomorrow, leave your morningstar in your rooms."

This upset her. The smile slid from her face, replaced by a look of confusion. "But why? It's a..."

"…omer does not wish it."

***oh Béma just look at her just puff up...**

"…omer does not wish it? What do I care-"

Gamling's hand for the second time that day covered her mouth. "Do not forget he is our future king. You do not wish to rouse his ire. He has good reasons. Leave it be."

Aefre scowled, reared up in anger and opened her mouth...

"That is an order... My Lady."

Aefre did not back down. "That is twice today you have given me a direct order as if I were in your command, Gamling!" He heard the anger, the accusation. The fact that she didn't call him Just...

"I know. I will not apologize. It is for your own protection." Gamling reached out and cupped the side of her face, caressing her cheek. "Thank you for the ale and tending of my eye."

She stared hard at him. Then after a moment, she backed down, relaxed, closing her eyes, enjoying the contact. Finally she smiled, and turned her face in, kissing the palm of his hand.

"Put the steak back on your eye, Gamling. Goodnight." In a blink, she was out the door, leaving him with a peculiar tingling and a familiar well - recognized throb.

***tingling.... Béma... you are just... needy...***

The next morning, he rose early, the stinging in his face gone, the swelling greatly reduced. As he stood at the window, watching the sun rise over the mountains, he saw Aefre alone, stealing through the front gates of Edoras.

***

tbc

***

 

Rider of the Mark

Rider of the Mark

 

Chapter 11

Apprenticing to your Affections

***

***What in Arda?...***

Gamling watched in fury as Aefre calmly picked her way around chickens and birds on the ground, her arms laden with two linen covered baskets.

***I told her... Béma! The KING told her not to leave the gates... what is she doing?...***

Grabbing his leggings, he thrust both legs in at once, only to trip and fall over himself. Growling angrily, he threw on his tunic, falling again as he grabbed his boots, and pushed both feet in them without stockings. Slamming the door to his chambers open, he ran headlong into …omer.

"Good morrow, Gamling!" the Marshal put his hands out and steadied the older Horse Lord. "I was coming to get you for breakfast, however, considering the thumping and noise coming from your room, I thought perhaps you were enjoying yourself with a comely wench!" He stepped back and tried to look over Gamling's shoulder. "So, who is she, the wondrous woman who has pulled you from your doldrums?"

"…omer-"

"Was it Aefre? Did you manage to put her in her place?" …omer continued to attempt to peer around the haphazardly dressed Rider, Gamling irritably stepping and shifting to keep the king's nephew from peering in.

"…omer-"

"Did she put up a fuss? Was she- *Stop* getting in my way!... don't tell me you killed her with your over- exuberant pent-up attentions?" …omer finally stopped bouncing and backed up. "Ooh! She's shy!" Apparently thinking he had finally managed to shoe the Mearas, …omer settled his hands on his hips. "Shy? Why would she be shy about such things at both of your advanced ages?"

…omer, son of …omund, was immediately presented with Gamling's back as the Horse Lord stomped away, punctuating each footfall with a curse. …omer shrugged helplessly at the chambermaid, who was looking at him in horror. "Was it something I said?"

Gamling made his way through the city, aiming straight for the gates. Wise people moved aside, wondering what had upset the normally reserved Horse Lord this early in the morning. He growled at the two gate guards who attempted to bid him good morning and paid no attention to the angry pair of eyes that watched him from the royal stables.

***Where would she be goingstupidstupidwoman going basket early morning...***

He snapped his fingers and growled out loud. "The Tent Village!" Gamling found a worn path between the rocks and made his way to the makeshift dwellings.

*** They look more rag-tag up close than at a distance...Béma! How desperate are these people? ***

He spied a filthy, skinny urchin, aged about ten summers, playing in the dust. "Boy!" he commanded sternly. Blank, empty blue eyes looked up at him. It shocked him how one so small could be so desolate. "A woman... a lady," he corrected himself, "came through here a few minutes ago from Edoras. She was carrying bas-"

"Lady Aefre."

Gamling nodded, saddened by the forsaken tone of voice in one so young. "Yes. Lady Aefre. Where did she go?"

The youngster pointed to a tattered covering. "Garberend's widow. She's been ill." His attention returned to the haphazard lines he had drawn in the dirt.

"Thank you." Gamling whispered. The child acknowledged him with a noncommittal grunt. Slowly, the Horse Lord made his way over to the frayed cloth, soft voices murmuring within.

"You're a gift from the Valar, you are."

"No, I'm not. I'm just-"

"No, no, my lady." There was the sound of rustling. "We'd starve if it weren't for you." More rustling.

"What is the word in Edoras, my lady?" A different, younger voice. "We hear talk of war."

He recognized Aefre's heavy sigh. "Aye. There will be war. Théoden King awaits a summons from Gondor."

"Then 'tis not a rumor." The younger voice stated hotly. "If they want land, give it to them! How many more of our men, our children, must die-"

"It's not about land, Aerlene!" Aefre answered the woman sharply. "This is an evil - doer from an ancient age - a minion of Melkor. It's about total domination. This is a war brewing since before our great grandsires time!" Her voice gentled. "We will all die if we don't fight. There will be nothing left for our children. There will be no Rohan, no Gondor, no Middle Earth."

There was a stifled sob. "My lady, I am afraid to go home. My mother was brought here from Helm's Deep and she is too ill to be moved. I can't leave her here. The last I saw of our home, it was in flames. I have nothing to go back to. I can't rebuild by myself. Does the king even *care* that we are here? This is not an existence I thought I would have to endure."

There was an eerie silence.

"I know the king cares. I'm sure he has someone he trusts working on this problem as we speak."

***Béma! I've been consulting the wrong person!***

Gamling came around towards the front of the tent, just in time to see Aefre back out. "There is enough willow bark to last you a few days, but I'll be back before then. Aerlene, don't give up hope." She backed out completely and turned only to run headlong into the unmoving, tall Rider, fruit falling from her basket.

Out of sheer instinct, Gamling grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her, holding her at arm's length.

"Gamling!" she gasped. "What are you doing here?"

Gamling bent over and began to pick up the dropped items. "I followed you to ask you that very question, My Lady!" he retorted. "As I recall, not only did the King order you not to leave the city walls without me-"

"He did no such thing! He told me to not go riding about without you!" she interrupted in outrage.

*** She's defying me... ME! She is... Béma, the woman is....***

"I myself told you not to wander freely without an escort!"

"I... well... I..."

***Speechless! Yes! Yes! Finally! Who's the Rider? Tell me Who IS the Rider...***

"Yes, My Lady? I am waiting."

Aefre rolled her eyes. "Fyren is in the stables. I saw him when I left. No one in their right mind would accost me in broad dayli... oof!"

At the word 'accost', Gamling grabbed her, pulling her up against him, causing her to drop her basket, fruit again spilling over the ground. In a proprietary manner, he enfolded her, holding her against him. Ignoring her gasp of outrage , he pulled her tighter and whispered in her ear, "Do you think anyone would step in to rescue you here? You are not among civilized folk, you... OUCH!" Aefre found herself abruptly turned loose, as Gamling stepped back, clutching his shin, eyes searching for the person who had attacked him.

The grubby waif who had earlier told him where to find Aefre was standing not too far off, his grubby hand in a fist.

"You will not harm Lady Aefre," the child stated firmly.

"I wasn't going to-"

"You will not harm Lady Aefre!" he repeated. A medium-sized rock materialized in the palm of the child's hand. "Do you understand?"

The youngster was too far away for him to-

***Béma! That hurts! Where did one so young get such a deadly aim?"***

- grab, disarm, and beat some respect into him. Gamling looked at Aefre.

***Oh yes! Laugh it up as it wasn't your leg he hit with a rock!***

Aefre was having a very difficult time keeping a straight face. "I do believe," she started mirthfully and nodded towards the child, "that I have a worthy, brave escort, Just Gamling."

The rock was being tossed in a rhythmic manner and the adolescent was cannily eyeing Gamling's leg, measuring the distance.

"Yesyesyes you do! Will you please call him off?"

Aefre rolled her eyes and putting her arm around the Rider, she called to the boy, "It's all right, Bawdewyne. This is Gamling, Marshal of the Mark. He was making a point and meant no harm."

"You are sure?" The child studied the Horse Lord dubiously. "He looks... seedy to me."

***Seedy? Seedy? You need a bath and a firm hand across your backside...***

Aefre finally laughed which brought the heads of many out of their tents. "It's all right, Bawdewyne, I swear it. Behind this scowling visage-"

***...don't you dare, don't you dare say I'm gentle or tender or...***

"-nice and caring-"

***...dammit! Béma, can I kill her, please? It will be quick and merciful...***

"-man."

***...DAMMIT!***

The adolescent still looked skeptical. "Are you sure? He isn't even properly dressed!" Bawdewyne pointed with his chin. "I'll bet his leggings aren't even decently laced!"

***... well, now that you mention it, it is a bit breezy in the southern part of the Riddermark...scowl dammit... grrrrr...***

"Gamling!" Aefre elbowed the Horse Lord. "Stop glaring at the child! You'll frighten the wee thing."

*** wee thing? I'll frighten his wee thing all right! Imp!...***

"Gamling! Now would be good!"

Gamling jerked his attention to the woman still holding him around the waist. "Lady Aefre," he began tersely, "you disobeyed a direct command from not only from me-"

"Commanded by you? I am not a Rider in your entourage! How dare you-"

Gamling raised his voice over hers. "You also disobeyed an order given to you directly by Théoden King!"

Aefre turned him loose and attempted to go nose to nose with the tall Rider. "I believe we already discussed this! The King stated that I should exercise my horse-"

"Béma! Be quiet!"

Aefre's mouth snapped shut.

***Well. That was certainly fast and worked rather well! I must try again...***

"Due to the fact," Gamling began quietly, "that most of the guards are watching those here on the hillside, certain... activities..." he nailed Aefre with a steely gaze, "have been curtailed. As you well know, the King is concerned for the safety of all of his subjects and he asks that the women do not wander about," his finger went up to shush her pending outburst, "without an escort. I saw you from my window, hence my lack of proper attire. I was concerned."

"Oh." It was a soft exhale. "Well, that was certainly-"

"Don't say nice or sweet."

"-thoughtful. You really didn't need to worry." Again her arm stole around him.

***nicenicehotsweetsweetmagicfingerssweet...***

"And you may call off your pint-sized escort!"

She smirked and turned him loose. Motioning to Bawdewyne, she began picking up the fruit and returning it to the basket. "Bawdewyne, would you take the rest of this to your grandmother? Please tell her to wash the fruit. There is also a tin of comfrey for her cut. Tell her I will check it tomorrow." She smiled at the child and sent him on his way. With a soft 'follow me', she guided the half-dressed Rider around and away from the refugee camp. Eventually, the rustling and sounds of the outcasts faded away. She motioned to a grassy knoll and the two sat down in the shade of the city walls. Gamling looked over the nearby hill, and saw mounds of simbelmyne...

"Sad place."

"Beautiful place." She corrected gently. "Quiet. I come here sometimes to collect my thoughts. It's the only bastion of privacy I can find." The wind was a bit cool, still early in the morning and unconsciously he moved closer, to block her from it.

"Are there that many taking up your time?"

She smiled slightly at that. "Typical Rider. Never spent much time below stairs, have you? Or in the kitchens? 'Lady Aefre, should we wash the linens today? There is a strong wind.' 'Lady Aefre, do these apples look like they are going bad?' 'Lady Aefre, the King wants roast chicken for dinner, but we still have too much hart and it is likely to spoil.' ' Lady Aefre-'..."

"I get your point." Gamling had to laugh. She made it sound so... so...

***busy life...and hectic...***

For a few minutes, they stared off together, enjoying the view, the tranquility.

*** quiet... silence... who would have thought she was capable of such?***

Fingers at his brow.

"Admiring your handiwork?"

"Which part?" she questioned cheekily. "Admiring the fact that I managed to hit you at all, or admiring my handiwork in keeping it from swelling your eye shut?" She pulled her hand away and sliding her knees up, she propped an elbow on them, and cupped her chin in the palm of her hand.

"Aefre. You have the most interesting look on your face." He scooted closer to her, his arm around her and his hand placed behind her. "Have I done something to amuse you?"

If she was aware the she was now protectively sheltered under his arm, she made no mention of it. "Besides the thought of you barging around Edoras and into the refugee camp barely dressed?" Aefre chuckled dryly. "I am willing to bet the entire Hall is questioning the sanity of Théoden King's most trusted advisor. I'll even wager," she poked him good - naturedly in the ribs, "that you didn't even put stockings on your feet when you thrust them into your boots!"

Gamling's toes curled painfully in his boots and he knew he would have blisters if he didn't remedy the situation soon. "What are you willing to wager?"

Aefre began to nervously fidget with the ties on her bodice. "Are you saying you *are* wearing stockings?"

***bluff... bluff... you can...***

"No. You're correct. I saw you sneaking out-"

"Sneaking? How dare you? I did no such thing! I've been doing this every morning since returning from Helm's Deep!"

" - and I was concerned as you disregarded my request-"

"Your command!"

"-from last evening." He smirked at her. "You will be happy to know, I tripped over myself twice, creating such an uproar that …omer speculated that I was rutting with three well-oiled whores-"

"You beast!" Aefre was laughing out loud, leaning against his arm. "You lie!"

"You're right again. I do lie." He made a very sorrowful face. "I lie a lot." He began to inspect the nails on the hand not resting behind her. "The truth is he thought I was sporting with you!" Aefre's jaw flapped in indignation. "You are blushing, My Lady."

"You're... you're... lying..."

"No, it's true. Your cheeks are quite the lovely shade of pink."

Aefre smacked him on the chest. "Not that! What …omer thought! You are lying!"

"No, I swear it!" Gamling put his hand up in supplication. " This time it is the truth, I swear it. I ran headlong into him coming out of my chambers. You should have seen him bouncing about like a rabbit, trying to peer over my shoulder." Finally, he smiled at the memory. "I think he was most disappointed," he admitted with a whisper in her ear.

Aefre's cheeks were burning and she hissed, "That boy has too much free time on his hands!"

"That he does." Gamling looked out at the mounds of symbelmyne and across the mountains, where the sun had begun to clear the peaks, bathing the valley in an orange glow.

"Just Gamling?"

"Hmm?"

"Does the King even know about the refugees?"

Gamling let the air in his lungs expel fully before answering. "Aye. He does. He worries, he is at such a loss. I have racked my brain for a week, trying to figure out a solution. Why do they stay?"

"Because," Aefre moved up against him again, molding herself to his side, "they have nowhere to go. Their homes are destroyed, they have no menfolk, no Riders to protect them or aid them. Many of the children are orphaned."

***Haleth! Béma, what kind of friend am I? Where is he?***

"With the talk of war, they are afraid to return. Why? What is the point?"

"Aye, what is the point?" he echoed. "Aefre, I promise I'll find a way to get them off the hill and into some suitable shelter before war." Realizing the time, he pushed himself to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. "Two questions, My Lady." Aefre nodded, dusting grass and loose dirt from her skirts. "A friend of mine was killed in the Warg attack on the journey to Helm's Deep. His son has survived, but I haven't seen him since our return."

She looked up from her ministrations. "What is his name?"

"Haleth. Haleth, son of Hama. He has about twelve summers."

Aefre dusted grass from Gamling's side. "I'll look into it. Second question?"

Gamling took a second before asking. "Bawdewyne. Who is he and what happened to his family?"

Aefre took a deep breath and pulled her hands away from him. "Bawdewyne's mother died when he was quite young. His father was blacksmith in a village to the west of Edoras. They were by all reports, very close. He was killed at Helm's Deep."

"Hmm."

"Hmm what?" she asked suspiciously.

"Cynn, the blacksmith and farrier here in Edoras lost his apprentice at Helm's Deep. Do you think the boy would be-"

"Would be?" Aefre was simply exuberant. "It doesn't matter! It would get him off the hill! It would be a start! Food. A warm bed."

Gamling was pulling his fingers through his hair roughly. "Don't say anything. Let me ask Cynn." He might not want such a young child for an apprentice. Aefre," he hushed her, "Not. A. Word."

She shrugged. "If you insist. Hopefully, you'll know soon."

"Today or tomorrow."

Impulsively, she reached out to him, pushed his hair from his eyes. "I like your face, Just Gamling. You have an honest countenance."

The smile in his eyes far outshone the one on his face. He took her hand, fingertips playing with fingertips. "Oh? Do I-"

"HEY!" A familiar voice rang from above on the ramparts of the city. "Are you two going to kiss or what?"

Gamling didn't turn loose of Aefre, instead he pulled her close against him and made a rude gesture to …omer, standing above with a few grinning Riders. He could feel her shaking with laughter.

"That... that..."

"Cretin? Lummox?"

A bright, sunny smile peered up from the general location of his chest. "Make me a promise?"

"Gamling! Couldn't you find somewhere more romantic than the graveyard, for Eru's sake?"

"Does it involve …omer's death?"

Aefre was having a horrific time keeping her laughter under control. "After the war, we set him up with the most horrid of females."

"A dumpy, shrewish, domineering, ugly princess?" Aefre nodded enthusiastically. "Lady Aefre! My Lady! You are evil!" Gamling admonished sternly. "So we are in this together?"

"Oh yes. You-"

"HEY! Are you two going to stand there all day? Come on! Kiss her already!"

Aefre felt his fingers thread through the loose tendrils of her hair. "Should we appease him?" Gamling whispered in her ear.

Aefre disentangled herself from his grasp. "No." she shook her head, ruefully, but he caught a glimpse of a smirk. "I'll not kiss you just to appease someone."

"Oh?"

For the second time that morning, she poked him in the ribs. "No. I'll kiss you because I want to." She left him there, standing on the hill. She had gotten about ten steps before turning around walking backwards. "You might want to go in and get dressed. Put on some stockings before you get blisters." She laughed jovially before turning back around and-

***Woman! You could break something, swinging hips that way! HothothotohsweeeeeetElbereth...***

"Is that it? Béma! Gamling! Whatever happened to the-"

Gamling made another rude gesture up to the ramparts and tuned the aggravating Horse Lord out. Trying very hard not to limp, he followed behind in the wake of a pair of hips that intrigued him to no end.

***

Before going into the Great Hall, Gamling stopped by the blacksmith to make sure Dréogan was properly shod and to make the inquiry he promised Aefre.

"A boy about ten summers?" Cynn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know, Gamling. That's mighty young."

"His father was a blacksmith. I suspect he knows his way around a smithy."

"Hmm. Still. Young." Cynn tapped on the last shoe, making sure it was secure.

"You'll have an apprentice for a long time."

"Underfoot."

"Energetic."

The blacksmith looked up from Dréogan's rear hoof. "You are determined." Gamling shrugged. "Oh, all right. Bring him down in the morning. I'll work his arse off."

"Thank you." Gamling turned and started to leave.

"Will this impress her enough?" The blacksmith was smirking.

***Béma! What is it with everyone trying to-***

"It will get a hungry child off of the hillside."

The blacksmith wisely waited until the reticent Horse Lord left the smithy. "Aye." He nodded to himself. "This should get him in her bed."

***

After getting dressed, Gamling made his way to the kitchens to see if anything was left over. Munching on a thickly buttered slice of bread, he deftly palmed an apple for his mount. He tossed it over his head, only to watch it snatched from the air by the meaty hand of Willan.

"Béma! Willan!" Gamling made to snatch the apple from the giant only for him to playfully hold it over his head. "If I were a lesser Rider, you would frighten me!" He held his hand out, palm up. "Hand it over."

With a grin, Willan dropped the apple into the offered palm. "I need you to do something - wait - two things."

Willan stood back expectantly and crossed his arms over his chest.

"First, there is a filthy urchin on the hill; his name is Bawdewyne. Father was a blacksmith, killed at Helm's Deep. Find him, feed him, bathe him, feed him again and take him to Cynn, the farrier." Willan nodded. "Second, early in the mornings, Aefre takes food and medicines for the people on the side of the hill outside of the city walls. Accompany her." Willan nodded. "Don't let her tell you no." Willan nodded. "Don't let her slip off." Willan nodded. "Don't' let her-" Willan's' hand covered Gamling's mouth and he made a comical face before turning and shuffling off. Gamling watched the man until he left the kitchen. "You could have let me finish," he mumbled before shaking his head and heading for the Great Hall.

Early morning found Gamling again, watching over the city, a self - satisfied smirk on his face at the sight of Willan following Aefre, the man's arms laden with foodstuffs. Gamling turned away, finished his morning ablutions and made his way to the Great Hall.

As he and several others spoke with Théoden, the Ranger burst into the Great Hall.

"The Beacons are lit! The Beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

***

tbc

***

 

Rider of the Mark Chapter 12



The Birds and Bees and Educated Fleas





***



Things moved very quickly once Théoden announced that Rohan would answer Gondor's summons and began to issue orders. …omer and Gamling spent scant minutes with heads together, planning, tracing their routes. …omer decided to take the Westemnet, while Gamling would take the more arduous route of the Eastemnet, searching out the more nomadic Riders. Gamling sent word down to the stables to have Dréogan saddled and bridled within the half hour. He headed to his chambers -



***Dréogan readied...need provisions, gear, travel light and swift. Tack, maybe get Aefre to bring my war gear Dréogan's heavy armor and my...***



It dawned on him as he mounted the stairs that he was depending on Aefre doing -



*** dammit!***



As he strode into his chambers, he found her there, bustling about, stacking clothing, weapons, armor... his armor, chain mail, on the bed. She barely acknowledged his entrance.



"Good! You're here. Where are your saddle bags?" She didn't allow him to answer. "Are you taking the East or Westemnet?"



"East-"



"You need to travel light, don't weigh Dréogan down with armor or yourself with heavy weaponry. You have the furthest to travel. Luckily, you'll have fewer Orcs and Mountain men to worry about - just have to find those dratted nomads! You'll need to travel light." She moved quickly, separating stacks of clothing, armor. "I've sent Willan to the kitchens to pack provisions; dried meat, bread, maybe some cheese. Definitely apples. And water. You'll need water. Tell me where Dréogan's war armor is kept; I'll make sure it gets to Dunharrow. Willan is procuring a wagon and we will leave for the camp after lunch. I'll have your gear, everything, so you need not..." she found herself caught in his embrace, held tight, "... worry."



"I won't worry. You are in charge, My Lady."



Aefre looked up and realized she was lost... lost in a sea of cerulean... no air... why couldn't she breathe?



"Well... I'll make sure your weapons are cleaned, sharpened." She was talking slower, seemed to be unsure... "Your tent will be up... you'll want a..."



"Yes?"



The thought... the thought... where did it go?



"You'll want a good night's sleep when you reach..."



"Aefre?"



"... the ... the... yes?"



"I trust you. You'll have everything ready for me when I arrive in two days."



She nodded blankly, echoing. "Two days. Yes. It will be taken care of."



Abruptly, he turned her loose. For a few minutes, they worked silently, side by side, hands crossing , brushing. Willan showed up, two large rucksacks of food materializing on Gamling's side of the pile, along with several skins of water. She watched as he carefully packed each and every piece in two saddlebags, then belted on his sword.



"You have everything you need, Aefre?" He didn't look up.



Aefre kept her own head down and nodded. Hoisting his bags over his shoulder, he headed towards the door.



"Be careful... Just Gamling."



Gamling didn't know if it was the softness of her voice or the caring tone, but he stopped in his tracks. …omer was standing in the door with his mouth open as if to say something. Gamling shoved his saddlebags at the future king, shoving him backwards in the process. Slamming the door in his face, he turned to see Aefre sigh deeply and then her breath catch with a stifled sob. In great strides, he moved across the room, pulling the leather glove from one of his hands. "Aefre?" Gently, he took her by the chin, forcing tear - filled eyes to look at him.



"Just Gamling. You'll- -"



"Be quiet. Don't cry."



Aefre tried to smile. "Is that an order?"



The question struck him strangely. "An order? No. A request." He pulled her close, one arm behind her, the other cradling the back of her head. He was focused... on...



"Inhale."



His mouth came crashing down, forcing almost roughly, teeth nipping before she could protest. It was brutal, it was crushing, it was...



Her hands went into his hair, thumbs gently skirting the rims of his ears, holding him to her as she battled back. He pulled his mouth from hers roughly and pressed his forehead to hers.



"I'll apologize when I reach Dunharrow."



Without giving her a chance to respond, he turned and throwing the door open, left her standing in the middle of his room.



…omer was leaning against the wall, out of the way, and wordlessly handed Gamling his saddlebags. Nodding his thanks, Gamling took and shouldered them. He started to move off.



"Old man." Gamling stopped and turned. "She's a good woman. She's worth fighting for, worth coming back for."



Gamling couldn't even smirk. He simply nodded and walked off.



Dréogan was agitated; no one could saddle him, but Gamling. Finally, he was geared and ready. Gamling pulled up and as he rode from the stable, he looked up towards his window, hoping, praying,



***please please be there, Aefre...***



and saw her standing.



Watching.



***



She observed, waited until he was out of the front gates, gazed until his horse was nothing but a speck on the horizon. Taking a steadying breath, she turned back to the bed, biting back tears. She was in a hurry to finish packing Just Gamling's things. After all, she was in a hurry; she had her own things to pack.



***



Two weary days later, Gamling rode into the camp at Dunharrow. He was directed up the high mountain, to his tent. Despite his exhaustion, he insisted on rubbing Dréogan down, weighing out his oats, making sure of the cleanliness and freshness of the warhorse's water. He gave him the last of the apples, whispered grateful thanks in the stallion's ear. He found a seat, was joined by …omer and together the two shared stew, hot, bitter caffe and compared numbers of Riders.



"It's too few." Gamling whispered, watching the goings on in the camp. "Too few have answered. Less than half of what Théoden expected."



"I know. I had hoped to find more when I arrived." …omer was subdued, his joking nature shoved beneath the surface. Gone was the prankster, the happy-go-lucky, young man. Instead, in his place was the serious Rider, capable Horse Lord, a man fit to -



*** Lead a legion of Riders... command an army... rule a country...***



They lamented the lack of Riders, joked over the Hobbit's desire to fight, his lack of stature. They didn't see Eowyn's displeasure, her restlessness.



And when the Ranger, Elf and Dwarf left suddenly, quietly without explanation, traveling into the Dimholt, Gamling knew they were all going to die.



***



Gamling stood in the flap and took in the small tent assigned to him. Aefre flitted back and forth; smoothing furs, making sure the brazier was properly vented. Despite the wind and the night chill outside, the inside of the tent was warm, cozy even. It was obvious she had taken a great deal of time and pride in making sure of his comfort. He recognized the furs and bedding from his own room and it looked as if some of hers as well.



"Aefre. Did you keep any bedding for yourself?"



She did not look up from the brazier. "I'm fine." Her voice was very subdued and she seemed to have a hard time looking at him. It was a cowed, submissive response and he found that he did not like it coming from her.



"Aefre."



She stood up quickly, dusting coal from her hands. "You have a long ride starting in the morning. You will need your rest."



Gamling stared at the rugs, looking where her eyes had focused, but for the life of him, he could not see what was so damned interesting, what held her attention. What he had just witnessed outside bothered him deeply and despite his training, his many years riding the Mark and fighting Orcs, he was greatly disturbed.



A chance like this would never happen again.



"Aefre." His voice was wrung out like water from a mop, pained and tired. "The Ranger has left. He has deserted us."



Her head shot up, eyes disbelieving. "What?" Her hands clenched, the knuckles turning white. "He can't have left. The people have followed him, relied on him. Théoden trusts him."



Gamling could not bear to look at her. He closed his eyes in fury. "Aye. The Ranger, the Elf and the Dwarf."



"All three?" She grabbed his hands, her calloused fingers snaking into his palms. "They just ... rode out of camp?"



His head jerked in frustration. "Oh, no. Nothing as straightforward as that." He gripped her fingers, entrapping them in his hands. "They went through the Dimholt, to the Dwimorberg."



Silence.



He didn't expect silence - not from her. He expected... denial, tears, screeching.



Wait. She inhaled.



He steeled himself for the outcry, the howl of repudiation.



It didn't come.



"The Ranger? Aragorn? Went to the Dwimorberg?" Her eyes had lit up, joy totally encompassing. " That's wonderful!"



Gamling's eyes shot open in disbelief. "Wonderful? That mountain is cursed! No one who goes in comes out. It is guarded by the dead."



"NO! Do you not know the truth of the Dwimorberg?"



"It is guarded by the dead. Only the dead may pass."



Aefre was bouncing. "Gamling, don't you see? He is the King of Gondor! He can command them!"



Was she insane? Command ghosts? Who could command ghosts?



Apparently, Aefre could see the disbelief in his eyes. Gently, she pulled her hands from his, to caress his cheek. "Ah, love. Don't you know about the ghosts of the Dwimorberg?"



Gamling shrugged, burying his face in the warmth of her hands. His own came up, to hold them there. "What is there to know, Aefre? It is a wicked, cursed mountain, guarded and lorded over by the ghosts of wicked, cursed men. Cowards."



"Yes, yes, yes! Cursed by Isildur, the King of Gondor. Only the King of Gondor can release them. Aragorn, the Ranger, commands them! They must fight!"



The weight of her words sunk like stone into his belly. "Who could withstand or kill a dead army?"



Her voice was like wind through the trees.



"No one."



It was little relief, but it did not matter because before he could utter another sound, she released his face and threw her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest.



***not another chance like this one, sweet saucy, sweet sweet...***



His arms slid around her shoulders, pressing her to him, holding her close...



***warm, so warm, sweet sweet thing, soft, sweet...***



He dipped his head, brushed his nose through her hair...



***Bémasweetfingersmagicsweetsweetthingsaucysmellso...***



"...sweet thing..."



He stiffened.



Did he just say that out loud?



"What did you say?"



Aefre was looking up, confusion in her dark eyes.



No. Not confusion.



Longing.



He tucked a finger under her chin, lifting it slightly. Leisurely, his thumb stroked her bottom lip, the callous of his thumb sending sparks across her mouth. He leaned over closer, his voice a bare whisper.



"Stay."



His mouth replaced his thumb, sweetly teasing, nipping. If Aefre was surprised at the gentleness of this giant of a man, she did not let on, simply melted into his embrace. He grunted once, when their noses bumped awkwardly, but somehow, they managed.



***sweetsweetsweetsweet...aah...***



He tasted like the bitter caffe he had drunk earlier with …omer and she decided she liked the taste and couldn't get enough. Reluctantly, they came up for air. His hands cupped her face, lips canvassing over her forehead.



"Are you sure?" She sounded winded, breathless and Gamling felt a slight tug of satisfaction that he had done that to her. He flicked the tip of his nose over hers, lips hovering.



"Stay."



This time, when his mouth covered hers, it was not the sweetness of honey; it was sheer heat, possessive. His hands snaked down her arms, underneath and around her waist, and cupping the curve of her backside, he pulled her close, into him.



He felt her stiffen, her hands going to his shoulders and she pulled away.



"Aefre? Do you want this?" He slid his hands up her back, bracing her.



"Yes." Nervously, she plucked at the lint, the stray leaf or speck of dust on his tunic. "Of course, I want this."



Strange woman. What game was this? "Surely you are not frightened of me?" he teased.



That brought a smile to her face. "No, you goose! I am not frightened of you." Her smile faded slightly and she... blushed. "Please, can we turn down the fires? The lanterns?"



***Aaaaaaaah. So she is shy.***



He pulled her close again, his nose trailing a path down the loose tendril of her hair, to her ear. "But I wish to see you."



"There isn't much to see."



"I don't believe you." He nipped her ear, causing her to gasp. Before she could protest, he licked it, soothing the small hurt. Her hands tightened on his tunic as she burrowed in and he nuzzled her neck.



Giggling.



Damn! The woman was giggling?



Aefre had hunched her shoulders and was attempting to tunnel further into his embrace.



"Gamling! Please." Her voice was muffled by his armor. "People will hear!"



***Hmm. Shy and self-conscious!***



He pulled back, grabbing her by the elbows. Giving her a mock scowl, he growled, "Turn off the lights, people will hear. One would think you are afraid of letting your hair down!"


"Nay! Not afraid of letting my hair down!" She playfully scowled back. "I simply do not wish to have knowing glances in the morning from those who listened to us rut like younglings this evening!"



Gently, his lips canvassed her forehead, her eyelids, before whispering in her ear, "Aefre. Tomorrow, we ride to battle. Many will not come home to Rohan. I suspect many men are doing what you and I do tonight - finding solace in the arms of one they love. I doubt they will pay much heed to the sounds of two such decrepit old people!"



"DECREPIT?" The cut got just the reaction he hoped for and as she stepped back in indignation, he casually unhooked his cloak. "OLD? I'll show you-" Gamling slung his cloak over the small table and moved to grab her, only for her to step out of his reach. "You wretched, boorish dolt; you-"



"Do tell everyone." His hands went to the fastening of his gauntlets; they clanged as they hit the floor.



Aefre's mouth snapped shut and her eyes shot daggers.



***spicysaucythingthingthing***



She continued to back up until her heel caught the bedding. She began to edge around the side.



Gamling's chest plate came up and over his head and as he leaned over to set it down, he blew out the lantern in that corner. He crooked his fingers at her.



***Come here.***



She playfully shook her head no, tossing her overdress to the side and blowing out the lantern in her corner...



Sidestepping, he made his way towards the front flap, tying it so it would not fly open in the wind. Leather shoulder braces dropped in the floor and the rest of his riding armor followed. He toed off his boots, before blowing out that corner's lantern, leaving one small light in the furthest corner from the bedding.



She started to step towards it.



"Nay." It stopped her in her tracks. "I wish to see you."



"But-"



With speed she would not have believed had she not seen it, Gamling rushed across the tent, tackling her to the bedding and pinning her beneath him. He slid comfortably next to her, cocooning her by throwing a leg over her. Propping himself on one elbow, he used his free hand to pluck at the laces of her bodice.



"I wish to see you."



Aefre turned as much as she could to face him and began to pull at the fastenings of his own tunic. "I don't know why. I suspect I'm no different from any other woman."



He crushed her to him, causing her hands to fall flat on his chest. His nose raked through her hair, before finding her ear. "Nay." It was a heady whisper and his breath caused to her shiver slightly. "You smell better."



Which was true. Others he had been with, whores, serving wenches mostly, had smelled of food and kitchen smells, fireplaces and sweat. Aefre smelled of flowers and rain, of air and sweet...



***...things..***.



She wiggled around, managing to put some space between the two of them. Again, her hands found the lacings of his tunic. "I do bathe on a regular basis, Just Gamling."



***Thank Béma for small miracles***



His mouth found hers again and it was decided by both that some battles were not truly fought to be won or lost. His hand slid down her back, finding the curve of her backside. As the top of his tunic loosened, her fingers finding bare skin, he pulled her into him, grinding, leaving no doubt the exact nature of his interest.



She pulled his tunic open, baring him to the air, to her. Her fingers followed, found puckered scars, traced ridges of long forgotten injuries, flickered over flat male discs, that when caressed, sent shooting sparks...



Gamling inhaled sharply and grabbed her hands, folding them in between them.



Brown eyes, filled with confusion...



"Did I hurt you?"



"No! I... no one has..."



Dawning replaced confusion.



"Ah." Aefre smiled. "No one has ever touched you back?" Glaring from his side of the furs.



"I am not inexperienced..."



"I didn't say or think you were." Aefre had the gall to smirk knowingly. "However, I am not going to just hang on for dear life, nor will I brace myself to be ridden like Mearas." She kissed and flicked her tongue in the grooves of his hands. "Sometimes, I like to bite-" she nipped the fleshy sides of his hands. "-just to get your attention. Passion should be both ways, with both partners giving equally." She pulled her hands from his and pulled his tunic back apart. Fingers found their way tracing scars yet again. "Will you allow me to give to you?"



"Do I have a choice?" It was a strangled whisper and Gamling couldn't understand why for the life of him, he couldn't get much more sound out.



Her mouth replaced her fingers.



Lights exploded behind his eyes. He was pulling on her skirts, drawing them up, exposing long legs.



***longlonglonglegsaroundmyneck***



Lightly, calloused fingers stroked the soft flesh of her thighs, causing her to shiver and sigh. Screaming need filled his head, as he grasped her by the knee and pulled it between his legs, high up...



***too many clothes...so hot in here...***



Aefre helped him shrug out of his tunic, neither of them knowing exactly where it was slung. Her hands were everywhere, over wide shoulders, sinewy arms, hewn by many years of military and equine training. Her touch was like air and ice and fire and oh, Béma, don't let it stop.



He rolled her flat onto her back, sliding comfortably between her legs. The urge to undo the ties on his leggings and just pull her skirts up was beyond overwhelming...



***No! She's not a serving wench to dally with...***



Her hands slid down his back, finding, tracing the many ridges, scars, muscles, rock hard... her knees rising, legs stroking his outer thighs...



***too fast... too fast...***



"Aefre... wait..."



Down in the shadow of his embrace, glittering pools of want stared back. Her eyes were black, the pupils dilated to such width that the irises were a thin band. Her hands went to the waistband of his leggings. "No. Can't wait..."



Gamling grabbed the frantic digits, his body wanting one thing and him willing another, and brought them to his mouth. "You must or you will find no satisfaction this night." Disentangling her legs, he slid down, his waist seating himself at her juncture and bringing his face down to hers. Again, they battled for nothing, save for heat searching heat. Eventually, his mouth slid to her ear, his tongue flicking the edge of the rim.



Again, she giggled and shuddered again slightly.



"Why-"



"Your beard!" she gasped, sensing his question. "It tickles!"



Ah...



His lips found her neck, and he nipped it. "I'm not shaving it."



"Oh, noooo. Wouldn't ask."



Her fingers wove through his long locks and despite his warning, her hips began to move against him.



***too... many... clothes...***



With a groan, he reared up, settling on his knees. Aefre's mouth was swollen, her cheek reddened by the scratching of his beard that she said tickled her. The removal of contact gave her access to the lacings of his leggings and her hands immediately returned to the task he had set her back from. Shaking his head, he again removed her hands from his clothing and using them as leverage, pulled her up to her knees. As she scrambled up, he pulled her skirts free from being pinned by her legs. With amazing speed, he finished undoing the lacings of her bodice and immediately moved to the side lacings. Several times, he had to stop to remove her hands from his clothing; she was apparently as eager to see him as he was to see her. When he finally had enough, he placed her hands on his shoulders, which only gave her incentive to play with his ears.



"Aefre," his voice was hoarse, "please..."He inhaled sharply through his teeth, when while distracted, she moved one hand to his waist and the other to his groin, kneading, stroking the length of him through his leggings. Being pushed to one's extremes in this way was delightful, but this was too much, too fast. Grabbing her hands again, he nudged her knees together and straddled her, bringing her between his legs and close to the heat of his body. The last lacing of her corseted bodice fell from its mooring and he pulled it over her head, vaguely hearing it hit the rug on the floor. Her hands skirted down his back and clutched the curve of his backside as she lifted up, attempting to undulate against him.



He smiled against her mouth. "Never give up, do you?" he murmured before taking possession of that sweet cavern again.



"I am Rohirrim," she whispered back. Her fingers found the waistband of his leggings and she pressed her fingertips between the material and skin.



He had to smile at her admitted tenacity. Groaning as her fingers slid in lower, his hands found the rounded edging of the final layer of clothing and encountered the final tie that stood between him and her skin. Pulling it, the ribbon came undone easily and as it loosened, he pulled the neck open and down over her shoulders. His fingers hovered, as if not knowing where to touch, before finally threading into her hair. He found the clasp that held the heavy mass from her face and undoing it, flung it as well in the direction of her other discarded clothing, carelessly listening to it bounce and ricochet . Pulling away slightly, he fanned her hair over her shoulders, reveling in the silkiness of it. He watched it fall through his fingers, like a cascade of water, illusive in form.



Her lips found his throat, and he arched, allowing her access to the tender spot at his Adam's apple. She nipped it twice, causing him to hiss and drop her hair. His hands fell, descending over her shoulder, down to the heavy curve of her breast.



Her mouth abandoned its pleasurable trickle down his neck and she leaned against him, pushing into his hand. His thumb slowly encircled the tip of her breast, before finally brushing across the nipple, causing it to awaken and harden.



Her hands had ultimately breached the waist of his leggings and her palms met nothing but heated flesh.



He was teasing her, teasing the hard bud...



"What do you want, Aefre?" he whispered in her ear.



At first, there was no sound but her breathing, labored, heavy. Eventually, in a waft of air coming from his chest....



"More. Touch me."



Gamling grabbed the top of her shift, pulling the neckline as far open as it would go, before yanking it down and over her arms, causing her to pull her hands from his backside and pinning her elbows to her side. Both breasts sprang free, large, heavy...



***sweetsweetperkyfitinmymouth...***



His mouth, nose made a hot, burning trail from her ear, down her shoulder...



***smellapplesapplesapples***



... finding the insistent nipple. He licked at it, agitating the engorged disc and the pebbling areola around it. Aefre was finally whimpering; she had managed to pull her arms from the sleeves of her underdress and wrapping her arms around his head, pulled him into her.



His hand found her other breast and teased it in a similar fashion.



Her groans became louder.



***...so much for no one hearing us...***



***do you really care? Sweetsweetaefre...***



Gamling's teeth scraped, lovingly irritating her nipple. Sweetly, he closed his mouth around it, laving his tongue over the aroused nipple.



She began to undulate against him, her hips moving, searching, grinding against him. His free hand moved down her back, cupping her bottom, and held her against him.



She was humming nonsense, no tune or melody, deep in her throat. Words escaped and he vaguely heard...



"Harder. Suck harder."



***... your wish....***



Gamling obliged, clamping down on the peak and pulling it into his mouth, he pressed her further into him. His body was screaming, begging for completion, but he was determined that this would last longer than a few well-seated thrusts. Her moving against him and now very vocal groaning was making him harder than he had been in ages.



"I... have... two, you... know."



Gamling released her breast and felt it slide from his mouth as he smiled in raucous glee. He rolled the other nipple between his thumb and finger, teasing it to that state of painful pleasure. "Is it jealous?" he whispered against her skin.



Her eyes were glittering, slitted to thin gashes of bronze fire. "Yessss."



His hands switched places; the one that had held her up against him now replacing his mouth, as the other moved downward. Instead of cleaving her to him, he found the bottom of her garment and pulling it up and over, rendered her naked to him.



***...sweetsweetsweetlushcurvesofelbereth...***



The moment her last protective scrap of clothing was sacrificed to the gods of skin...



The voice that never stopped in Gamling's head, became mercifully silent.



***

tbc

***

Rider of the Mark 13


In Praise of Older Men





***



Théoden stood at the top of the hillside, looking over the tents, the camps of the assembled Riders. 'Too few,' Gamling's voice echoed in his head. 'Too few have come.' As usual, his reticent Marshal had nailed the situation dead on. And now with the Ranger gone, with his small entourage...



Who would have believed so many had rested so much hope on the shoulders of one ragged man?



The Rohirrim were a superstitious lot. Watching Aragorn ride into the narrow chasm had unnerved them all. Even Gamling had paled. Théoden glanced over at the Horse Lord's tent, all of the lights dimmed, save one. He had attempted earlier to go to him, to explain that if the Shards of Narsil held true, the only undefeatable army in Arda would be at the Ranger's command. However, standing at the flap, he heard the murmur of two voices, Gamling's and Aefre's; and Théoden decided perhaps a softer touch would be appreciated.


For a moment, he regretted plotting to bring his long - time Rider and friend - yes, friend, Gamling was that - someone to stand at his side, when they were going into a desperate war, and he could be killed. Then, there would be two who mourned: himself and the bereaved Aefre.



***What will be, will be. I pray to Béma, he returns to her.***



He watched as the speck that was Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, rode off into the distance. Although Théoden himself had offered the Elf his own tent, the Peredhil had declined, claiming pressing needs, concerns elsewhere.



***Run. Run and leave us. Go to your Undying Lands where-***



Théoden bit the thought off. It was wrong, rude. Elrond had sent a contingent of Elves to Helm's Deep, archers who came to their aid, when no one else would have answered. And they had died, every last one of them, giving the entrapped Riders precious time for …omer to arrive. No, Elrond Peredhil was not running away.



Théoden shook his head. Perhaps again, the Elves had come to Man's rescue. If that sword given to the Ranger was truly the reported Sword of Elendil...



He looked over the tents again, and again; too few. Each Rider knew there were not enough men and like him, were disheartened, discouraged, knowing full well they were riding into certain death.



Unless Aragorn...



Bah! Again, what will be, will be. Tonight, Théoden decided, he felt old. Truly old. He watched a young Rider, barely bearded, wrap his arm around a not much older girl and lead her off, probably to his tent. He imagined if he took a walk, his would probably hear sighs and sounds of the One Last Time. Hearing giggling behind him, he turned to see …omer, both arms wrapped around the waists of two buxom wenches, whispering first in one ear and then the other. Mentally, he made a note, to talk to Gamling. …omer would make a fine king, once he was settled. He had a good head on his shoulders and he would need a strong Marshal and advisor to guide him.



'Béma, I miss Elfhilde. I miss my wife.'



The thought came suddenly out of nowhere. His hand clenched, unconsciously reaching for the knob of a chair that sat back in his chambers in Edoras. She would have given him good advice, would have held him this night, been a source of-



"Sire?"



Théoden looked down at the woman before him. She was his age, snow-white hair braided back, framing a still youthful face.



"Yes?"



She smiled and in the dimming light, he saw her eyes shine. "I have made hot tea for you in your tent and brought stew. It is still hot."



"Thank you." She nodded her head and turned to leave. "Wait." She stopped and turned back. "I'll know the name of the one who served me when she herself has every right to be in bed."



The woman smiled and lowered her head. "My name is Eldrida."



Théoden looked at her closer. "I knew an Eldrida, long ago. In my youth..." He pulled her into the torchlight and peered closer. "I know you." Gently, he took her hands in one of his and with the other, tilted her chin up. "I remember you well. You came to the celebration that proclaimed me and several others Riders. Your brother was one."



The woman blushed harder. "I'm surprised you remember me, sire. It has been a very long time."



"Eldrida. A true Rider never forgets his first love." By now, she was smiling as well as blushing. "Ah, I remember that smile well." He pulled her closer and he whispered in her ear. "As I recall, it charmed me right out of my boots."



Eldrida smacked him playfully for that. "As I recall, you charmed me just as thoroughly."



For a moment, the two basked in a fond memory. Théoden released her chin and patted her hand. "What happened?" he asked softly. "I went on patrol. When I came back, you were gone. It took me forever to find word of you and when I did, I discovered you were married."



Eldrida's smiled drooped, just a little. "You were to be King and I am a simple Rider's daughter from the East. A farmer's daughter. I was not meant to be Queen."



"That would not have mattered to me."



Her hand covered his. "It mattered to me. I was not well versed in the handling of a huge hall, servants and a garrison of Horse Lords. You loved your wife, did you not?"



Foreheads touched and both sets of hands were clasped between them. "Aye. I loved her very much."



"Then I am glad. My Eadwin gave me five strong sons and two beautiful daughters." She moved back and nodded over the mountainside. "All five sons, both son-in-laws and eight grandsons are down there. I pray they come home safely."



"Your husband-"



"Died three years ago. I have grieved. It was a good marriage and well I remember our time together." She nodded back towards Théoden's tent. "Your stew is getting cold."



Théoden was reluctant to turn her loose. "Is there possibly enough for two?"



Eldrida's grin became bigger, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "There might be."



"Ah." Théoden smiled knowingly. "I believe I might have a skin of particularly fine-"



"Wine." she answered before him. "I believe that is the same line you used the first time you talked me into your chambers."



Théoden tipped his head back and forth, a motion reminiscent of Théodred and …omer. "Well, it worked once before..."


"And it will work again, you randy old stallion!"



Théoden winked at her. "Want to see if I should be put out to pasture?"



The upper camp echoed with Eldrida's laughter.



***



There was no sound in the tent. For about ten seconds.



"Gamling," Aefre whispered, "Stop looking at me like a starving man looks at a banquet table."



"You have no idea..."



"Gamling-"



"Shh." He kissed her once, before trailing to her ear. "I'm starving." He painstakingly took his time, making his way down her neck.



"I'm not... not...a ... meal... you...."



"You are the small course and the sweets."



Aefre's senses were reeling and her hands reached back to his leggings, unlacing and loosening. "And what are you, Just Gamling?"



The Horse Lord had kissed his way back to her breast and he pulled away from her hands. "I'm the main course." Playfully he rose up, looking down at her. "Which one was jealous?" His thumb pestered the nipple he had been nibbling on earlier. He rose above her, corralling her back into the furs.



"You horrid man," she sighed. "The one you're ignoring."



"Ah." He lowered his mouth and licked gently. "This one?"



"Yes...ah..." Gamling's mouth clamped down, his tongue tugged gently. Aefre's fingers wound through his hair, holding him in place. As he eventually settled between her legs, he continued to tease, suck at her, listening to her when she whispered calls and instructions.



... harder.... just a little...



Eventually, Gamling turned Aefre loose, kissing his way beneath the heavy mound. She had begun to undulate again, writhing as she tried to maneuver her way down under him. He cupped her beneath a firm cheek, coaxing one leg up to his waist. "And where do you think you are going?" he admonished softly.



"I'm going to get rid of your leggings."



"No." He shook his head. "Not yet." He began to kiss his way down her stomach, causing her to giggle.



"Why ... not? 'Tis unfair.... Gamling!" she squealed as he nipped her waist. "What are you doing?"



"Enjoying my small course." He continued downwards, until his nose was hovering above her damp nest of curls. He burrowed down, his hands stroking down and beneath her legs, bringing them over his shoulders. Her fingers found their way threading through his hair, as he found and kissed the soft skin at the joint at her juncture. "You smell like apples."



"I don't think I... ah..." Her fingers dug almost painfully into the roots of his hair, when he nipped her at that tender spot inside her thighs. "...Béma..."


Gamling continued to kiss, suckle actually, at that sensitive spot as his fingers stroked their way around the soft skin of her hip and leg. Finally, they found their way to that sweetsweethotwetspot, dancing, lightly stroking



"Gamling oh please please don't tease..." Aefre had begun to angle, thrusting upwards in an attempt to...



"Are you begging?" Gamling asked. He gasped when he realized her hands were still in his hair and she pulled in frustration.



"Damn you! Damn you! ... you...you..."



It crossed his mind to tease her -



Brute...



...Lummox


But truth was, at this point, he didn't have the heart for it. He nipped her again, as his fingers slid between soft, wet folds. "Tell me what you want, Aefre."

He whispered against her skin. She mumbled incoherently. Gamling propped himself up on one hand, the other continuing to bedevil her. "I'm sorry. I didn't understand..."



"Touch me!" she hissed, "Kiss me, lick me, I don't care! Get out of your leggings-"


"Ah... not yet." he whispered back. His index and middle fingers cut a deliberate path through her entrance. Calloused tips lingered at her passage and again he licked and nibbled at the inner joint of her thigh.



"Again, Aefre. What do you want?"



For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her ragged breathing. Then-



"You. I want you. Please."



At the word 'please', Gamling thrust both fingers into her core, stroking upwards. His thumb moved over her nub.


"Other side, other side, to the left.... aaah Béma.... yessssss." Aefre released his head, her hands clutching the furs beside her, knuckles white.


For one long minute, fingers and hips danced, one asking, the other answering. Aefre's breathing shortened, became more ragged. The skin at her inner thigh was pink from his attentions and he kissed it one last time, reveling in the feel of her pulse there under his tongue.



"Aefre?"


Her response was a low keening wail.



"Do you want more?"



"Yesyesyesyesohyespleasebémayes please-"



He replaced his thumb with his mouth.


Aefre jerked hard, tightening her legs around Gamling's neck, her hands back in his hair, guiding him-



"There... there..." It was a hiss. "Ah... yessssss..."



For a few moments, he allowed her to lead, to guide, to set the pace, two fingers still encased high within, probing, pressed forward, upward. She tightened her grip, fingers and legs, cutting off what little air Gamling was able to-"



"Ah, thinth yew can turn looth now, Aefref..." he whispered against her. "Pleath. Ah wohn thtop."



"Promise?" It was a sigh, a plea.


"Yeth. Promith." He breathed a sigh of relief as her hands turned loose of his hair and her legs relaxed slightly. He watched with great interest as her hands moved slowly up her body as he continued the rhythm she had set.


It was a dance of sorts, he decided, the coordinated movement of his mouth and fingers against the gentle thrust of her hips. At some point, she began to answer the questioning of his fingers, vocally, vaguely aware she was calling him by name, begging, pleading, for release. She moved harder against his mouth, his fingers pressing down.



Eventually, his free hand left the silky softness of her stomach and moved upwards, replacing her own hand at her breast, calloused pads at her nipple. Aefre was beyond any point of return, every nerve ending was on fire, begging for more.



Her movements became more insistent against his fingers and thumb and when his mouth replaced his thumb, her entire body sang.



***how long.... how longhowlong has it been oh Béma since you allowed yourself to believe any man...***



Eventually, his hand had replaced hers and she gave in - gave in to the sensation of skin on skin; gave in to her impending orgasm not brought on by her own hands; gave in to the realization that for the first time in several years, she was not in control...



This 'Rider' literally held her in the cup of his hand, at the tip of his - oh sweet Elbereth, his entire tongue, who in all Arda would believe the quiet Horse Lord could be so aaaaaah-dept with... oooooh.....


"Don't stop."


Her body had a mind of its own and she was close sooo close...



"Harder, harder, please don't.... oh... Béma... don't..."



Gamling's mouth enclosed over her completely, his tongue insistent, sucking her in, while his fingers matched, obeyed her commands. And when finally, she reached the bridge, the chasm, and completely lost all control of her body, she let him know exactly how wonderful he was.



***



Aefre lay twitching beneath him, her legs sliding limply from his shoulders.

Gamling looked up, took in the sheen of perspiration that coated her entire body. He allowed his fingers to slide from her body. As he lifted up, he started to wipe her juices from his mouth before realizing his two fingers were in worse shape. With a self-satisfied smirk, he put both in his mouth, savoring her taste before wiping his lips. Crawling to the edge of the furs, Gamling pulled his leggings off, his own body now screaming 'sinkinsinkinsinkin'. Instead, he crawled between her legs, between her thighs and staying on his knees, began to caress her sides and hips, watching her breathing settle. Finally, he leaned over her, careful to keep a slight space between his body and hers and nuzzled her at the dip in her throat, sucking the salty sweet sweat from her body. "When I told you the camp would not bother with the sounds of two people making love tonight?"



"Yesssss?"



"That," he murmured against her throat, "was before I knew what a screamer you were." He chuckled at her half-hearted attempts to smack him and rubbed against her suggestively.



"You... you... oaf... you... bore... at least let me... catch my... breath.."



"What?" he hissed back against her skin. "And give you respite?" Her fingers dug painfully into his hair. "Oh, all right, Aefre. I'll give you a minute." She turned loose and moved her hands down to grasp him. Gamling inhaled sharply at her touch, her thumb deftly weaving through the foreskin.



For all her knowledge, her experience with her husband, Aefre was in a sense, shocked when the Horse Lord dropped his head on her shoulder, his breath in a hitch.



***if you do not slow down, you will get no satisfaction this night...***



Aefre removed her hand, and in a gesture identical to what the Rider in her arms had just done, licked the salty moisture from her thumb. Running her fingers around the outer shell of his ear, she whispered, "I really need some wine. Would you like some?"



"You stopped," he sighed. "It was so sooo nice..."



"It will be nice again." She patted him reassuringly. "You did promise me a minute to catch my breath. Please let me up." Reluctantly, Gamling rolled over, allowing her to escape. "Besides," she continued as she rose from their bed, "I figure you would like to wash the taste of me from your mouth."



"I need no such thing, but if you insist, I'll take it anyway," he grumbled, grateful for her offer regardless. He pulled a dark hair that did not match his beard from the side of his mouth, before flicking it away. The remaining light was quickly dimming, but he still watched her, not too covertly, enjoying the...



***Not thin... not fat... just soft and round and curving and pleasing and oooooh Béma...***



...set of her, her span, hips that fit-



"What?" Aefre stood before him, goblet in her hand.


"Looking at you."



She stretched out her hand. "There was only enough left for one. You take it." He sat up, and taking the goblet from her, drank deeply, savoring the sweet, earthy coolness. While he drank, she climbed back on the bedding, behind him and pressed herself to him, caressing, kissing, stroking his shoulders. He felt her knees slide around his hips. "I know I'm not perfect, but I hope I'm not all that repulsive."



***Kiss my neck kiss my neck pleasepleaseplease kiss my.... ooooooh thank you...***



"Not in the least." Gamling was not regaining control of his almost out - of - control body and he handed the goblet back. "You have the rest. You were the one who wanted it."



Aefre took the goblet and swirling it once, took a sip. She was looking at him most...



Saucily?



*** uh oh***



Holding the cup in one hand, Aefre crawled around him. She straddled him, resting on his thighs. "We must do something about this rather rigid staff you're waving about." Gently, she covered his mouth with hers, the two of them savoring the wine on the other.



" Would be nice."



Using her free hand, she pushed him by the chest backwards, coaxing him to lie back down.



"Aefre. You will spill the wine and make the furs wet."



"I suspect they are already wet."



Gamling could only nod, his head hitting the pillow.



"And I have every intention of spilling the wine."



*** uh oh ***



"Wha-"



Wine drizzled down his sternum, slow moving drops of dark red liquid. Before they could roll to places best not thought about, Aefre's tongue lapped, spiraling, tickling, sucking, wasting none of the liquid she had so painstakingly poured, moving from his chest, down to his stomach, down lower, dripping more...



Wine dribbled forward, her tongue sliding into his belly, sucking, down further...



*** oh Béma I may die so happy...***



One hand went to the furs, grasping, the other went under the pillow next to him and in one swing, he pulled it over his face.



He heard her laugh before she inhaled him.



*** so very happy... Here lies Gamling, who never made it to Gondor due to death of intense pain or pleasure caused by the mouth of...***



"Aefre?" He had lifted the very bottom of the pillow.



"Hmmm?"



"There's a drop rolling down on my..."



Her tongue licked at the spot lower down, sucking in first one, then the other...



"Never mind." His voice was uncommonly high. " You got it." The pillow went back down over his face.



***I'm dying. Why is her chest jerking against me...soooo disrespectful of the dying... Laughing at the soon to be dead...***



The moment the first drop of wine trickled down on Gamling's chest, Aefre decided he had been correct - he *was* the main course. And she was going to treat him as such. With a deliberate lap, she assaulted his collarbone, making scant work of the beading droplets. She inhaled, exalted in his scent, the lingering aroma of leather and horse and her... oh, she could smell herself on him, under the wine, under the sweat. Crisp hair tickled her nose as she moved her way down his chest, following the trail she trickled before her. Down the flat planes, ridges of his stomach, again following a path of layered hair to ...



That insistent rising staff. She watched him reach for the pillow and throw it over his face just as she bent down to coax whatever she could lick from him.



***Ah... wine and male sweat and the salt of him and... hmmm wine down...***



She licked just as he noticed there was more than was supposed in places rarely explored.



Strange noises came from under the pillow as she made her way back up the ridged column under her mouth. As a youngster, she had enjoyed hiding in the pantries, the closets, hidden places, listening to the serving women in her father's house discuss the opposite sex. She had to admit, most of her education had come from these stolen moments hidden from the world. It surprised her how much some women did not enjoy the taste of a man, while others reveled in it and she had decided at a young age, it had to be an acquired taste.



This one tasted glorious.



She had him in a rather firm hand and stroking downwards, had completely exposed the head to air. He was glistening with the clear liquid that she truly preferred.



***Mustn't waste...***



She flicked the head with her tongue and blew, eliciting more strange noises from beneath the pillow. Deciding she had teased enough, she licked the top of ...



***velvethothardsweeeettasteofamanwonderful...***



... sucking in all that was there before encasing him, moving, relaxing, caressing with the back of her mouth.



More strange sounds from under the pillow.



Hmmm.



The hand that had been clenching, squeezing at the furs, found her leg, was pulling, coaxing... moving up her thigh, angling...



She turned to face away, opposing him, on her knees and his fingers invaded her core yet again, his thumb finding that spot his tongue had lavished so much attention on. Their rhythms matched and when his breathing hitched, she pulled up and away.



Gamling pulled the pillow up a hair. "You stopped..."



"There's more."



He felt her swing up and over him...



The pillow went flying.



***Yes!***



Aefre straddled him, positioning herself and began to undulate, keeping M'lord Happy everywhere but where he needed to be.



"What in Béma's name are you doing?"



***Dammit. She has an evil grin.... I think I like it... dammit... I'm sooo dooomed....***



"What do you want, Gamling?"



"Ah ha. We are going to play *that* game, are we?"



Aefre continued to move in circles, playing pelvic tease-dances. " What game? Only one you started."



He moved his hands up her thighs, her sides, to both breasts, again finding, teasing...



Aefre reached behind her, grasping him, gasping at the sensations he was causing her. "Ever... play... Ride the... Mearas?"



Gamling's jaw dropped open. It took a second to recover. With a leer, he turned her loose, one hand going to her hip to steady her, hold her still, the other reaching between her legs. He found himself, her hand and grasping both, he moved her so her sweet spot hovered just right.



"Aefre?"



"Hmmm?" She was still attempting to control the situation, not quite realizing she wasn't.



"There is an old saying."



"Oh?" She wiggled some more. "And that would be?"



"Save a horse. Ride a Rohirrim."



With that, he pushed her down, as he thrust up, impaling her, burying himself, clear to the hilt. Both of her hands flew, finally resting on his chest, his at her hips. He retreated, enough to almost lose her, only to thrust back. Aefre's eyes were wide, smile slowly spreading, as she dug her fingers in.



"Surprised, My Lady?"



She used the momentum from his hands to grind down. "No," she growled. "Are you?"



"By you? I try not to be." Gamling allowed her to move his hands, clasping them to her breasts, as she took control back.



"Relax, you. It's my turn." Bracing herself on his hands, she set an uneven rhythm, none that could be danced to, ridden to, depended on.



***She knows a man. Keeping me off-balance... prolonging the inevitable ... drawing it out for both...***



Aefre's head was down, long mahogany locks draping her shoulders, her face. She was lost in sensation, the feel of him, the ride, the sound of them together, the wet, the slide, the gasp.



"Aefre." A whisper.



"Yessss..."



"What do you want?"



"Take me."



He turned her loose, grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her down to him. His lips canvassed hers. "You're not close."



"I know." she whispered back. "Take me."



"Aefre, I-"



The dying fire echoed in her eyes. "You've seen to me. Let me see to you. Take me. Pin me to the bedding. Tell me what you want."



In a breath, a sigh, he grabbed her, flipped her on her back, still imbedded, impaled. He grasped one long leg and placed it at his shoulder, kissing the ankle.



***softsmelllikeappleapplesapplessowetandhothothothot***



He thrust full, pinning her to the bed.



"What do you want, Gamling?"



He pulled out and thrust in hard. "Tell me."



Fingers again found his chest, the scars, the puckered tender areas that shot bolts of lightning pleasure. "Tell you what?"



Pull out. Thrust in.



"Tell me what's it like? How does it feel?"



"How do you feel? To me?"



Pull out. Thrust in.



"Yessssss."



Aefre pulled her leg from his shoulder and pulling him to her, clasped and hooked her legs behind him, at his waist.



And she whispered in his ear, lurid things, heated things, things he never could imagine; how good he felt, long and heated and addictive, how he smelled, so male and of earth and wind and leather, things that made him harder and hotter and, oh Béma, the way she made them sound so dammit, dammit good and how she wanted to feel him convulse, explode, and throb, she could feel that too, like a rapid, threading pulse against outer edge of that cavern he was buried so deep within, the friction, how his hands, his mouth felt on her breasts, on the curve of her backside, how his ragged breathing made her want more, oh Béma, she wanted all of him, every inch, every scrap, every drop, buried deep within, and harder, harder, now, oh please, harder, pound me...



Somewhere he had pulled away, bringing both legs to his shoulders, bracing both hands beside her and he thrust... no, he banged her...



"Harder."



... he thrust, banged in again as hard as he could.



"Again."



Yes.



"Again."



I aim...



"Again. Again. Tell me. Tell me. Again."



...to please....



"Again. Don't. Stop. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again."



Now.



***


There were twinkling stars outside the tent the two shared. There were twinkling stars behind Gamling's eyelids as well; he could see them clearly outlined in the lids of his eyes. He had collapsed completely on Aefre, his head on her shoulder. Her legs were down, her ankles at the backs of his knees and her arms held him close. She was playing in his hair and crooning something sweet and Aefre-y.



***Kissing my ear silly witchy woman with breasts and hips and the sweethothothot oh magic please Béma letmelive to come backtothis everynight...***



"Can we move? It's-"



"Wet," he finished for her. He opened his eyes to darkness - the brazier had finally given out. He rolled, bringing her with him and with giggles and laughter, they pulled layers of the furs and coverings down, to dive in under, grabbing pillows, each other. They finally lay side - by - side, Aefre tucked protectively under his arm, hand tucked between her chin and his shoulder.



***The Elves have it wrong. The Undying Lands cannot be this wonderful; this peaceful...***



"I cannot believe how quiet you were." Aefre whispered against him.



"Oh?" It was out-rushed air.



"Yes."



"And?"


"You made me yell and I -"



"You woke up The Dead. The Ranger will not have to rattle any bones at all. You've done it for him."



"I wasn't that bad."



"Yes, you were. I, on the other hand, would have alerted Sauron to our presence and the Rohirrim's cover would have been blown. I, My Lady, have more self-control than you." Gamling smiled smugly.



He felt her bow up next to him. "Why you... you..."



"If you call me names, it will make me hard and randy, and I will be forced to make you make another wet spot in the bedding. I prefer to sleep dry tonight." Deftly, he flipped her to her side and spooning up against her, tucked her into his body and clasped her at the waist. "Please, Aefre. I've had a very long two days ride and I am surprised I lasted this long." She wriggled down to get comfortable. "Aefre..."



"I'm getting situated." His other arm was under her, cushioning her head beneath the pillow. Her hand covered his at her waist. "Goodnight, Just Gamling."



His breath ruffled her hair. "Goodnight."



There was no sound but breathing for several minutes.



"Just Gamling?"



"What?"



Silence.



"Madam-" It was gritted.



"When you said that no one would pay attention to us, because they were doing what we were doing with the ones they loved... did you mean us as well."



***thud***



When did his heart beat into his back of his throat?



***What is she asking? Is she asking what you think... hope...***



Gamling did something he had not done since a young man.



He reached into that lonely, forgotten place. Locked when he decided love was for fools and men with time on their hands. And was very surprised the answer he received from it.



"Yes."



Silence.



When she relaxed, he realized how tense she had been waiting. She rolled over, burrowing into his embrace, tucking tighter into his embrace.



"Good. I would hate to think the one I made love to did not return my feelings. Goodnight, Just Gamling."



In an act very foreign to him, he curved her into him, his hand leaving her waist and going to her head. He threw his leg over her, pinning her to him.



"Good night, Aefre."



***

TBC

***

Rider of the Mark 14



The things the young do not know




***



…omer was mad.


No, that didn't quite state the obvious. …omer was madder than a wet warg!



The sun would soon be up, the camps would be stirring shortly; a few Riders were awake, horses were being saddled, armor was being donned - - -



And his uncle was still holed up in his tent!



Worse, …omer went to Gamling's tent and all he heard was laughter.



Laughter!


Béma 's balls, they were literally on the eve of battle and rather than being out rousing the men, whipping them into a war fury, Théoden King was still abed and Gamling was laughing with Her!



Bad enough one of the whores that warmed his bed last night had cast several longing glances at Gamling's tent before …omer had swept her off with one of her co-workers to his own tent. Deep in the night, he had awakened to find her crying into her pillow.



"Eadignes-"



"I'm sorry, m'lord," she whispered.



"What's wrong?"



"I'm sorry," she repeated. " 'Tis not my place."



"Not your place?" He rolled over and pulled her into his arms. "Not your place to what?" He could feel the wetness on her cheeks against his arm.


"It's not my place to care, to worry. It's not my place to - I'm sorry, m'lord."



It dawned on …omer that Eadignes always asked after the quiet Horse Lord, always looked for him. When Gamling went to the brothel, she would brush others aside, to tend to him, to his carnal desires.


The longing glance at the tent...



"Ah, Eadignes, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."



He heard her sniff once. "It's all right. I'll be fine."



In the dark, he had tried to reassure her, convince her that somewhere, someday, someone would... but she attempted to laugh him off.


"No, m'lord," she whispered. "I'm a whore. My mother was a whore, as was her mother and her mother. My daughter, should I have one, will be a whore. 'Tis the only life I know."



For the first time in his life, …omer found himself consoling a woman other than his sister.


It was not an easy feeling.


Finally Théoden's tent flap opened and the King stepped out, followed by...



...a woman?


He watched as his uncle kissed her on the forehead and hugged her. As …omer crept closer, he could tell the woman was older, of an age with his uncle.

Béma!



He waited until the two parted ways, Théoden's eyes lingering fondly on the departing figure.



Théoden was equally aware of the woman walking away from him as he was of the bristling young man beside him. "What?"



…omer breathed deeply, trying to think of a subtle way to say it. "I would think at your age..."



"At *my* age?" Théoden retorted, cutting the younger Horse Lord off. "Where is it stated only the young know passion?"



…omer blushed. "I'm sorry, m'lord, I just... just..."



"Just what?"



…omer dug his toes into his boots, and gestured at the retreating woman. "It's just unseemly."



Théoden burst out laughing. "What? You didn't think this old war horse could still cover a mare or two?"



"Si-ir!" …omer whispered. "I hardly think *she* is of an age to cover!"



Théoden pounded him hard on the back. "When you reach my age, you'll understand. I not only know what is good, I know why it's good and why I like it!" He looked around the not yet rising camp. "Is Gamling up?"



"There is giggling going on in his tent! I would suspect he's up in more ways than one!"



Indeed, he was.



Gamling woke feeling well refreshed, relaxed, well rested, every muscle...


A wet, hot mouth around his---



***Béma!***


***Oh, this is sinful, this is - - - -***



He pulled up the fur to see...


"Aefre?"



"Hmmm hmmmm?"


***this is DIVINE! It's madness, but it's...***



"Aren't you ... stuffy down ... oh...." She sucked in particularly deep.



"Do you want me to stop?" she whispered against him.



"NO!" he almost shouted harshly. "No," he repeated more quietly.



"All right" she continued with her ... pleasuring activity.


***She's going to kill me! She is determined I won't make it to Gondor intact... Dammit! Dammit! Gaaaaah Béma! That's-***



"Sir? Gamling?" There was scratching at the tent flap. Aefre inhaled deeper.



"What?" Gamling barked, a little too loud, a little too high-pitched. "Don't' open the flap!" Aefre never stopped; she continued her ministrations, albeit while giggling softly. "Stop that!" he hissed. Her head and tongue stopped moving. "Not that! Stop giggling!"



She giggled again, but continued.



***Oh Béma, kill me please oh please...***


"Sir?"



"Wha-at?"


The young Rider's voice was clearly confused. "Lord …omer is up and asked me to aid you in getting ready-"



"I do not need help! Go help …omer!"



"But Lord …omer is up and ready-"


"Abéodan?"



"Yes sir?"



"Go make.. caffe... feed Dréogan."



"Dréogan? Feed Dréogan?" The young Rider's voice went up an octave.


"Yessssss! Feed Dréogan!" Gamling voice hitched. "Armor him too!" His voice dropped in pitch. "And Firefoot. And Snowmane!" Gamling snorted through his nose. "There, that should keep you busy for a while," he muttered darkly. He threw back the furs and glared at the woman bobbing between his legs. "And now, My Lady," he hissed evilly, "I'm going to teach you how a Marshal of the Riddermark *really* Rides the Mearas!"



"Ooooooh!"



***Mwuhahahahahaha***



***



For the second time, …omer stood in front of Gamling's tent flap. He had seen Abéodan running from the area a quarter of an hour before, terrorized at the thought of armoring and feeding the Horse Lord's irascible mount. …omer growled to himself, listening for... for... anything...



"Gamling?"



"Enter!"


The younger horse Lord ducked in, eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light inside. He was greeted by the sight of his friend standing in the middle of the small tent, Aefre moving steadily around him, laying out armor.



"Glad to see you're finally... up."



"We've been *up* for a while," Gamling answered, not looking at the Rider behind him. "Aefre, I don't see my gauntlets. And I only see one glove."



"Don't you remember where you flung them last night?"



"Cheeky wench!"



…omer rolled his eyes. First his uncle, and now Gamling bantering in... Béma! Absolutely disgusting!



"Is Théoden awake?" Gamling still had yet to turn and visually acknowledge the younger Horse Lord in the tent.



"Yes. He is breaking his fast as we speak. He will need your help soon."



Aefre had gone down on her hands and knees, peering around the bedding.



"And the rest of the camp?" Gamling had now joined her on the ground, hands roaming.



"Just beginning to stir. I suspect the rest of them will rouse by dawn."



"Fine... OUCH!" Gamling sat back on his knees, a hair... clip?... in his hands. "I believe this is yours, My Lady."



…omer was twitching in disgust. "Do the two of you mind?" he gritted between his teeth.



Finally, Gamling looked at him. Balefully. "Are you in such a hurry to ride to battle, youngling?"



"No."



"Has Théoden requested my presence?"



"No, not yet." For some reason, …omer felt like an errant child.



If Gamling was taking pity on the younger Horse Lord, he did not show it. "Go and eat. I dare say it will be the last meal you eat in peace for quite some time. I will be there shortly." He nodded, dismissing the man. The two waited for the tent flap to settle before turning to each other. Aefre held out both of his armored gauntlets.



"Let's get you ready, Just Gamling."



Gamling took the gauntlets from her. "You don't have to do this, Aefre."



"Yes," her voice was tight. "I do." She moved around him, donning each piece of leather, of armor, layering him in protective gear, adjusting his greaves, buckling, tying, making sure each piece was secure. Finally, all that was left were his gauntlets and gloves. Aefre held the first glove out to him.


"Wait." She looked at him questioningly. "I would have something of yours."


Aefre let out a laugh. "You randy stallion! You already have-"



"No." He placed several fingers over her mouth. "You misunderstand. I would have something to take with me; something," his hands went from her lips to her hair, "to remind me what I am fighting for." He pulled the ribband that she had hurriedly pulled back her hair with and inspected the stitchery on it. "Your ... husband's insignia?"



"My father's."



***Ah***



He held out his left hand, watching as she tied the dainty strip of material around his wrist, enough to stay, but not too tightly. Reverently, he wrapped the long ends around his hand before donning his gloves; she finished strapping on his gauntlets. Finally, he traced his finger under her chin, his thumb caressing her lip.



"I'm sorry if I was too rough in Edoras."



" I didn't mind."



He took both of her hands in his, inspected her calloused fingers -



***not afraid to work hard, not afraid to fight, not afraid...***



*** ...of me...***




"Aefre, I'm not... I'm not good... with words..."



"You've done very well so far."



Gamling dropped his head between his shoulders.



***Béma how to say this without looking like a complete cretin lummox oaf idiot...***



"I'm not...refined... or..."



Aefre watched the Horse Lord struggle with words, with thoughts. So quiet, so circumspect, this one. "I talk enough for both of us, Just Gamling. You are more than enough Rohirrim for me." Her hands tightened in his. "How much time do we have? For us?"



***not even...***



"Five minutes, at the most."



***ah***



She disentangled herself from Gamling's grip and took a deep, steadying breath. "Could you hold me, please, Just Gamling?"



There were no words, no thoughts, no sighs, as he enveloped her, pulled her to him. For those few, precious minutes, there was nothing except the sounds of the rousing camp outside.



***Béma, how do I do this, how do I pull away, leave...***



"Aefre?" She nodded against his chest. "When you return to Edoras, bring the refugees inside the walls. House them in the stables, in the barracks, in the Golden Hall. Give everyone a job, a chore, a reason to work. Make sure they know it's an important responsibility and praise them for every step forward. Keep them busy. Eowyn will more than likely sit in Théoden's stead. Help her. Make sure there are guards around the clock. Do you understand?" She nodded again against his chest.



"Just Gamling?" It was muffled.



"Yes?"



"Promise me. Promise me you will come home, on your own two feet, by your own will."



Breath long pent up was let out slowly. "I cannot promise that-"



"Damn you! Just say it!" She thumped him hard on his armor-clad chest.



Leather - clad fingers chucked under her chin and lifted it up. Stern blue eyes bore into hers. "Do not weaken on me at the final moment, Aefre," he told her firmly. "I need you strong. I need to know Rohan is left in strong hands."



Gamling watched her resolve harden. "Very well. If you do not return to me, I will go and find your worthless carcass on the battlefield and kick it back to the Riddermark! I'll make sure Dréogan gorges himself on apples daily-"



"You will NOT spoil my horse-"



Aefre had stepped back, hands on her hips-



***proudsassyhothotwitchywomanBémawithhthehothotsweetmouthhothotpleaseletmetlivetoteasethathothothotmouth...***



"Aye, and spoil him 'til he's fat and lazy. I'll let him loose in the brood mares and allow him to spread himself without a care worrying about stud or blood lines!"



"If you spoil my stallion, I will be forced to haunt your very days!"



"Promise?"



Gamling heard the underlying desperation in her voice and knew deep down what she was doing. He pulled her to him and kissed her. "I will come back, one way or the other." He kissed her again. "Help Eowyn keep Rohan safe." He kissed her again; lingering... Finally, he pulled away. "I have to go to Théoden." Again, he saw her reign in her resolve.



"Don't forget your helmet." She reached around him to the small table where it sat and handed it to him.



"I hate that thing," he muttered.



"I know. Wear it because it will appease me." He snatched it from her reluctantly, before stroking her under the chin. "What are you doing?"



***hothothotwitchyfirefireloveyouneedyouhothot...***



"Memorizing your face." He crushed her to him, one last time, stealing her breath, stealing her-



***-my-***



-soul.



"I want to find you naked in my bed upon my return." He turned, his cloak whipping behind him and was out through the tent flap in the blink of an eye.



He was fifteen feet from the tent before her howls of fury rent the air.



"Naked? In your bed? You pompous arse! You lout! You bonehead, you clod..."



"You forgot dullard," he called back.



"ACK!!!"



Gamling walked up to a stunned …omer, who held an uneaten pear in his hand. Gamling snatched it from the distracted Horse Lord and bit into it. "Rule number one, youngling. Always leave them screaming for more."



***



In a scene hauntingly reminiscent of the one slightly over two weeks previous at Helm's Deep, Gamling moved carefully, meticulously assisting Théoden in putting on his riding armor.



"Snowmane has been readied?" Théoden was pulling on his gloves.



"Yes, m'lord."



It was quiet for a few moments, Théoden checking his vambraces and greaves.



"Gamling?"



"Yes, sire?"



Théoden was staring at the tapestry hanging at the back of the tent. "You have ever been a faithful and steadfast servant to Rohan."



"Sire, my duty-"



"And-" Théoden interrupted, "a good friend to me."



***Friend? Friend? Me? My kingsiremylord,Béma! Friend..."



"I admired and respected your father's counsel, when I was new to the throne, and you have filled his riding boots most admirably, perhaps even more so. There is no finer praise I can think of." Théoden turned to address the Rider standing behind him. "I expect you to give …omer as good counsel as you have given me. He will need a strong advisor and a faithful friend, when he assumes the throne." Théoden couldn't tell if his officer was dumb-struck or horrified. "Gamling, if I should fall, I need to know that Rohan is in good, strong hands. …omer will be a strong, able king, with a good head on his shoulders. He will need an equally strong, able advisor, with as just a good a head on his shoulders. I want your word that you will be that Horse Lord."



The enormity of everything Théoden was saying mentally staggered his Marshal.



*** if I should fall if I should fall if I should fall if I should fall if I should fall if I sho-***



"You have my word, sire."



"Good." Théoden turned and headed towards the tent flap. "Oh, one more thing." Gamling looked at him expectantly. "Bed Aefre often. Do it in love. If she is anything like Elfhilde, it will sweeten her tongue. Don't forget your helmet." The tent flap shut with a whisper. "Come, Men of the Riddermark! We ride!"



***



Aefre fumed for a good three minutes before reverting to more angry grousing.



"That damned Rider! How dare he think he can order me about, like I was chattel, just because we... because I... that... Orc! That gob! That..."



The tent flap opened and she spun to vent her ire on...



"Willan!" The mute nodded. "I need you to move Adenydd from the main corral; especially, to make sure she is removed from that jackass's horse; and ready her for travel." Willan gave her a look of mild shock. "I must talk to Eowyn. After you have moved Adenydd, you may begin taking down this tent, and make sure the bedding and furniture are back in their proper space in Edoras. I will have final instructions for you later." She nodded curtly at the tall man, as she left the tent.



The camp was now in disarray, the final stages of leaving, Riders scurrying from place to place, the sounds of horses being saddled, armored, calls to fellows, arming up, last goodbyes and orders being issued. She hurried directly to the tent she was to have shared with Eowyn, hoping beyond hope that no one would pay attention to the wren-like woman darting through the camp. She ducked into the tent, to see Eowyn half clad in her fighting tunic and struggling with her shoulder plates.



"Aefre! I... I..."



Aefre just glanced at her as she rushed by. She pulled her trunk from under her unused cot and kicked it open, revealing her armor, her weapons, and her morningstar. "My name is Heldwin, Rider. I'll help you into your armor, if you help me into mine."



***

tbc

***

Rider of the Mark

Chapter 15

Contingent of the Pompous Arse-Riders






***

"That horse's rear-end! That.... pile of cattle dung! That... that...."

"Pompous Arse," Aefre supplied.

"Thank you! Pompous arse! Pomp. Pass. Arse." …owyn popped the syllables, testing them on her lips. She thrust her arm out at the older woman, waiting for her to buckle the shoulder harness. "You know little of war!" …owyn dropped her voice pitch deep, mimicking her brother. "War is the providence of men! Bah!" She slung her gauntlet across the tent, only to stomp over to pick it up. "If women ran things, there would be no war!"

Aefre shook her head and smiled. "Yes, there would. Just think. Negotiations of treaties would have to be planned around our monthly cycles."

…owyn sat on the edge of her cot, laughing, "True. Can you imagine the men? Tiptoeing around us? Now, that would be a sight!" She pulled on her boots. "Do you need anything else?"

Aefre was pulling on her heavy riding gloves. "No, I think I have it all." She grabbed her weapons, her belt, and began to strap them on.

"You spent the night with Gamling last night?" …owyn asked quietly.

"Aye."

"And?"

Aefre stopped buckling. "You are much too curious for the shy virgin who hid in my room a few times."

"Hiding from Grima, yes! Hiding from one I wanted? No." Her smile faltered and she slowly began to belt on her own weapons. "If I could ever find one I want who wants me back."

The last of Aefre's gauntlets were pulled and strapped on. "What? There is a man impervious to your charms? You would have your pick of Horse Lords!"

"I don't want a Horse Lord."

Aefre could hear the wistfulness in the Shield Maiden's voice. "Oh honey, not the Elf?"

"No!" …owyn hissed. "He would probably use all my nicer smelling hair soaps!"

Understanding dawned on Aefre's features. "The Ranger-"

…owyn’s shoulders hitched as she stifled a sob. "He said I loved a shadow; a dream. And he wished me joy. On the eve of battle, he wished me joy!" She shook her head ruefully. "What a farce!"

"No, not a farce. Not at all." Aefre began to check everything one last time. "The eve of battle and I've found joy. Now I have to sneak behind and make sure that damned, arrogant Rider doesn't lose his head."

…owyn helped check Aefre's vambraces. "You're falling in love with him, aren't you?"

"Falling?" Aefre chuckled. "Try fell splat hard and before last night, if you must know." She turned and began to do the final checks of …owyn’s armor.

"I'm glad for you." …owyn admitted bashfully. "How do you know?"

"How do I know?" The older Shield Maiden did not mince words. "How did I know I was in love? With my husband or with Gamling? What did you feel for Aragon?"

…owyn was taken aback at the turning of the table. "My... my... mother always told me I should look for a man; one who was brave and honorable; one who would not back down to a true, honest fight. One who would treat me with respect and dignity. One who would listen to me and consider my counsel."

"That's all?"

"Well... yes." …owyn scowled in thought. "Is there more?"

Aefre laughed out loud. "Oh yes, there are a few more. Actually, two more and the rest will fall into place."

…owyn was now strapping on her weapons. "And what is that?"

Aefre's outfit was complete and she picked up her helmet. "Make sure he loves you more than his horse and will be a gentle and attentive lover. But most of all, he should make your soul sing."

…owyn was beyond confused. "My soul? Sing? How do I know it's doing that?"

"Don't worry. You will." Aefre patted her on the shoulder and lowered her voice. "Do you have a name, Rider?"

"Oh dear. Haven't really thought about that."

"Quickly! We haven't got all day."

…owyn scrunched her face for a moment. "Duh... der... Dernhelm . Dernhelm."

"Good choice. Dernhelm it is! Let's get out horses." Aefre grabbed the last piece pieces of armor, the chest and face plates for Adenydd and hurried out of the tent flap...

Straight into a stone wall.

A stone wall of a man.

"Ah. Willan! Just the man I want to see."

Willan was aghast. He shook his head back and forth -

*What do you think you are doing?*

His eyes grew bigger when …owyn pushed out behind her. "Aefre... no... Heldwhin... I..."

Both women were shoved backwards into the tent by massive paws. Willan blocked the tent flap and crossed his arms over his chest.

*What are you doing?*

"Willan, please. I realize this looks... strange..."

Willan's eyes bugged. *Oh?*

"Willan." Aefre put her hand on the giant's arm. "Please understand. …owyn and I can help. We're trained; we're not helpless or useless and we would both linger here. Rohan must aid Gondor and it's unfair to leave us behind. Besides," she hung her head and admitted bashfully, "I was left behind when Lufian died. I can't be left behind again." A rare grunt escaped the man's throat, as he shook his head and stepped slightly to the side. "Oh, Béma, thank you. I knew you would understand. Listen carefully. Bring the refugees into the city. House them anywhere. Give them chores, responsibilities. Set plenty of guards around the clock and change them out often. Keep them busy. Prepare for spring planting. It is time." She grabbed him at the waist and hugged him tightly. "I value your friendship, so very much. You mean the world to me." She turned him loose. "Where are our horses?"

Willan motioned down and further away - the furthest tether, apparently. Aefre thanked him again and went to step around him, when he grabbed her and pulled her into a fierce bearhug.

…owyn got one as well.

The two finally escaped the tent and almost finished gearing up their horses when Théoden's call went out.

"Hurry!" …owyn whispered, pulling up on Hengist.

Aefre was tugging at Adenydd's face plate. "Hang on... just a moment-" Finally, she pulled up on her mount, made sure her morningstar was secured tightly. She pulled her helmet over her head. "Ready?"

…owyn was pulling hers on as well. "Ready!"

The two trotted out and moved into the departing column of Riders. Aefre immediately began scanning the row, looking for the familiar figure...

Bah! He was too far away, she was too far back, but maybe that was a good thing for now. Aefre turned to check on …owyn, when she saw him - the little Hobbit standing forlornly in the dirt. She whistled once, gaining …owyn’s attention and pointing.

Seconds later, Meriadoc Brandybuck was ensconced on Hengist, in front of …owyn, grinning his little Halfling head off.

Smiling herself, Aefre settled in, Adenydd finding a comfortable stride when it dawned on her that she was riding into war - real war. It made her gut clench.

Unbeknownst to her, eyes from her past were fixated on her mare's rump.

***

They had finally settled in at a moderate trot after half an hour of hard riding.

***So far, so good. Three day ride. Not enough Rohirrim. Maybe Army of the Dead. Wretched odds. Aefre safe... safesafehothothotfierysafesafe for now Dréogan seems to be well rested and alert... I have a backache and could have used another one... two hours... Béma I could have slept the day hothothotwitchywoman in my-***

"You slept well last night, Gamling?"

"Well enough, my lord."

…omer was making rude *coughcoughnoisycough* sounds.

"Did you have something to say, youngling?"

"No, not me. I slept like a newborn colt, I did, even if the woman in the tent next to mine was calling to the glory of Béma and telling the Dunharrow that her *coughcoughGamlingcoughcoughcough* Horse Lord was the most spectacular rutting beast of the Riddermark!"

***There are times when I love my helmet. Now is one.***

"You slept well, sire?"

"Yes. I rested well." Théoden smiled to himself, reflections of an enjoyable evening well remembered. "Very well." …omer inhaled to cough and sputter again, but a look from Théoden stopped him.

"Hasn't changed a bit, has he?" Elfhelm, the Horse Lord from the Eastemnet had pulled up on the other side of Théoden.

Both Gamling and Théoden shook their heads.

They continued in silence for another ten minutes, watching the passing scenery, each ruminating on their own thoughts...

...feeling Dréogan tense beneath him.

***what the...***

Dréogan stopped dead in his tracks, nickering, sniffing the air.

…omer was immediately serious. "Gamling? Is something wrong?" Even Théoden stopped.

Dréogan was now nickering, worrying, pulling hard to the left. Gamling loosened his grip and the warhorse turned completely around, facing the Riders behind them.

"What is the matter with your horse?" …omer hissed.

"He hasn't changed a bit either, I see." Elfhelm whispered to the King.

Dréogan was now pulling at the reins, his nose out in the air, obviously agitated.

"You go on with Elfhelm and Théoden," Gamling called over to …omer. "Something is wrong." He saw …omer shrug and turn back, helmet plume flying in the wind. Dréogan was now earnestly ignoring his commands, something his well-trained destrier did not do when he was armored in battle gear.

*** In fact, only one other time had he behaved thus and it had not been more than a week before...***

"All right, you!" Gamling leaned over and whispered in his ear, ignoring the passing Riders. "Go find her!"

Dréogan immediately surged forward, nose out, neighing softly, calling, his Rider equally searching for the familiar dapple grey.

***

Aefre saw him first, threading his way, scanning the passing Riders as they filed past him. She saw him nod, acknowledge those that dipped to his rank. She knew it would only be a matter of time before she was caught. "Dernhelm." …owyn and Merry both glanced over. "Fight hard. Move away." Aefre moved to the left, away from the twosome, and the last she saw of the Shield Maiden and Hobbit were two sets of frightened eyes as Hengist moved to the right, …owyn finally seeing Gamling making his way doggedly towards Aefre.

***dammnitdammitwitchywomanhothotdammit how dare she follow going to put her over my knee and beat her and...***

Gamling finally saw her threading away, saw Adenydd's winged markings, a dark haired Rider attempting to put horses and men between them. Dréogan was having none of that and neither was Gamling. No one near them could tell which was louder - Dréogan neighing or Gamling growling angrily. Riders went around, moved aside as the well-respected Marshal pushed and picked his way through and angled up next to the Rider on the grey mare.

"Either stop or hand me your reins."

Aefre moved away from him.

Dréogan still wasn't having any of that. Neither was Adenydd.

Gamling purposely moved up again, reaching over and grabbing her reins. "Stop. Now." It was hissed, whispered and Aefre could tell she had pushed her limit as far as it would go. She could feel the fury emanating from him. They waited several minutes while the others moved around them, many giving her glances of pity, sympathy. Gamling's reputation as a just, but harsh taskmaster was well known and well-earned. Whatever the Rider on the Dapple had done, well, he earned it and was in for a difficult time of it. No one would rescue him from it.

The last Rider was now past.

"Remove your helm."

"Why?" She tried to lower and gruff her voice.

***Béma! She's going to try to bluff me. ME! Damned difficult stupid dammit woman going to war Béma help us all...***

Dréogan was nuzzling Adenydd affectionately, the two of them oblivious to the war brewing on their backs.

"Remove. Your. Helm."

"Why?"

"I gave you an order-"

"And I asked you a question. What have I done to garner your ire?"

***ooooh she's good! Béma's Balls... careful... careful... she is going to keep me busybusybusy when I return...calm down... deep breath...careful... you are the Rider... you are the Marshal...***

"I know this mare and I know the Shield Madam who owns her." Gamling's voice was soft, dangerous. "She would not loan her out for such a journey. Therefore, you either stole her - which I will gladly hang you for, immediately, or you are she."

"And if I am she?"

"Stop bandying words with me, Aefre! Remove your helm now!"

Slowly, she removed her helmet, shaking out her-

***glorious, long thickrun my fingers through her mane softsoftsoft... dammit! Dammit!foolish...***

- hair

"Now what?"

***Now what? Glory to...Béma preserve us!...***

When he finally spoke, it felt to Aefre as if the ground beneath Adenydd's hooves trembled.

"When I finish with you, you will not be able to sit your horse for a month. Do you have any idea how much trouble you have just caused?"

tbc

Rider Of The Mark
Chapter 16
Aaaaaefreeeee. You gots some 'splainin' to do!


***

The pounding hooves of the Rohirrim faded in the distance, the dust settling in their wake. Gamling was bristling.

***My life was so much simpler before... damn …omer and his schemes, damn every happily married man in the Riddermark, damn her for making me this angry...***

Gamling pulled back in his saddle. "Get on in front of me," he rumbled.

"What? Your saddle isn't built for two and I certainly am more than capable of riding to Gondor-"

"You are not going to Gondor! Now either get on in front of me or I shall haul you off Adenydd and you will return to the Dunharrow camp face down across my lap! You. Won't. Like. It!"

"Gamling!" she started nonchalantly, "I think you are over -reacting -"

"Do *not* push me any further! You have five seconds!"

"Gamling! Really!"

"Five!"

"Béma!"

"Don't swear. Four!"

Aefre dismounted and glared up at him. "What am I to do with Adenydd's reins?"

"Hand the reins to me. Three."

"What? Hand them to you? Why you reprehensible-"

***uh oh, big word now she's mad.. hothothotsweet foolish...***

"-ill-mannered-"

"Oaf. Two."

"Damn you!" She slapped her reins in his outstretched hand. Going around the front of the two horses and -

***damn jackassbane of my existence you are you doing this to me who's going to watch over you???***

"Gamling," she glared off in the distance. "I can't get on in front of you."

"Wo-"

"It will be awkward!" Her eyes were stinging, but she would be damned if she would allow him to reduce her to tears. "I... can't get on... with you already there. Not in front at least. And not while I'm holding my helmet!"

Gamling rolled his eyes and moved forward. "Fine. Put it back on and get behind me then."

"Your cloak is in the way."

***dammit dammit waste of my time I should have just let her go into battle for all the trouble she's giving me...***

Gamling yanked and wadded his cloak around in front of him in his lap. He watched her struggle for a few moments as she attempted to mount the large warhorse. Finally exasperated-

***Why are you doing this to me? can't you understand - ***

***Why are you forcing my hand in this way? Why can't you do what I asked you to do...***

-he pulled his feet from the stirrups and extended his hand.

"I don't need your help."

"Aefre..."

"I don't *want* your help!"

"Aefre!"

***uh - oh... now I've done it...***

"You have trod firmly on my last nerve. Take. My. Hand!" Reluctantly, she slapped her hand into his and allowed him to help her up. Reaching around her, he flipped her cloak to the side and tied her horse's reins to the back of his saddle. "You are wearing a Rider's cloak."

She didn't respond.

"Tell me how you acquired a Rider's Cloak?" Gamling nudged Dréogan forward, back towards the camp.

Aefre still did not respond.

"Aefre-"

"It was my husband's!"

***I know well what importance one such as you would place in a cloak such as this...***

"There is no insignia, no braiding. It must have been his first one."

"It was."

***Béma! We are almost an hour out of camp. Théoden will keep them at a trot for another two hours, then a hard gallop for an hour before resting.... dammit dammit, I might catch back up by midday...***

"Aefre. Hold on to me tightly."

Aefre's hands were clenched in her lap. "I'm fine."

Gamling was getting tired of speaking to her through clenched teeth. "Aefre, I am weary of arguing with you. Hold onto me." He could feel her tense up, tighten behind him.

"No."

***So be it***

Gamling nudged Dréogan into a trot, causing Aefre to bounce, off balance. She gabbed onto Gamling's waist. Transferring his reins to one hand, he covered hers with the other. "Don't turn loose."

"This is unfair to Adenydd."

Gamling looked over his shoulder to see the mare keeping up easily. "She's fine."

For some time, Aefre kept herself as apart, as away from him as possible. Eventually, she gave up and pulled in close, laying her face against his back.

***Finally! Finally give up yesyesyes uh oh no Aefre does not give up I am in for a fight like...***

They rode in silence, painful for her, his thoughts churning, eating him. Her tenacity, stupidity, femininity...

***all these ity words Béma...***

Determination

***Yes! Thank You!***

Sooner than either realized, the camp came into view, tents down, wagons loaded. Gamling could see Willan, silently in charge, directing women and children and men unable to travel far. It crossed his mind to take her into camp, make an example of her, but public humiliation had never been a way his way to keep a Rider under his command in line. Instead, he stopped just outside of camp.

"Get down."

He felt Aefre sigh and turn loose. He focused on the camp, using the time to get his temper in check, waiting for her to dismount. He heard her feet hit the ground. Still not looking at her, he looped the reins around the pommel of his saddle, before dismounting. He could see her helmet hanging limply from her hands, her riding boots in the periphery of his vision and he focused on them for a moment.

"Really, Gam-"

"Do not say a word."

Finally, he looked up and it registered that she took an involuntary step back, her helmet dropping almost soundlessly to the earth.

***oh and aye, You should be afraid! Be very afraid...***

Aefre had tucked her hands behind her back. "Gamling. Please. Let me explain-"

"Explain?" he whispered. He yanked his helmet from his head and threw it to the ground, the metal clanging dully in the dirt. "You can explain until the sun goes down. It will not matter. You can explain until the last Rider returns from Gondor. It will not matter." He advanced on her, backing her up, into a tree.

"Gamling. I think Adenydd is picking her reins loose-"

"Do *not* change the subject!"

"I am not changing the subject, you brute!" She gestured angrily over towards their abandoned mounts. Sure enough, Adenydd was pulling at the knot of her reins, Dréogan attempting to help.

"He'll get her loose." Gamling turned back to her, one hand now braced by her head on the tree trunk. Lazily, he took in her armor, her gear, chain mail that -

***fit her like it was made for her***

- molded to her shape. He drew a single, leather-encased finger around her neckline. "This is not your husband's."

"No."

Slowly his eyes slide, over her, taking in her form-

***that I licked and suckled so thoroughly tasted so good dammit dammit***

- before sweeping up and locking into her gaze, visually pinning her to the tree.

"It was made for you."

"Yes."

"Like your morningstar was made for you."

"Yes."

He continued to look her over, the chain mail was not new; it had seen use, it was supple under his finger. "You have fought before-"

"The Wold is a harsh place. I'm not a stranger to fighting. I'm not afraid of blood and I'm not afraid to kill someone who means to harm me or those whom I love!" Her breathing hitched, became rapid and shallow and she was visibly upset.

"So you have killed before."

Aefre's eyes fell, feet digging holes in the ground beneath her. "I.... ye.... yes..."

***hmmm sounds like a not so enjoyable time for my spirited Shield Madam.***

"My husband trusted me at his side!" That came out in a rush, the effort it cost her, obvious.

"Orcs? Men?"

"Men." she whimpered. "Two."

***ah, a veritable slaughterer are you My Lady***

"With your morning-"

"Yes, yes! With my morning star!" Involuntarily, she hugged herself as a cool wind he didn't feel blew through the sparse trees.

"Not like a straw dummy, is it?"

Aefre was still looking at the ground, tears now beginning to flow. "No," she whispered. "It made me sick afterwards. Now you will think me weak..."

Casually, his hand slid to her neck, cupping her jaw and she leaned into the gentle pressure. "No. I do not think you weak. It would disturb me greatly if it hadn't affected you at all." Gamling pulled her in close, again reveling in the nearness of her, the scent of apples and - yes - last night's sex - vaguely sensed under the leather and chain mail. "Aefre. I gave you a specific order - to aid …owyn. She will need you, Edoras will need you." He didn't dare tell her he needed her here, safe, in charge in case the Riders in Gondor fell.

***if I should fall***

"Why did you follow me?"

Aefre tensed up, bowed up in his embrace. "To watch your back, you arrogant man! To make sure you don't get hurt!"

The thought of Aefre standing up to hundreds of thousands of Orcs

***... standing on a hill, the muster of the Rohirrim behind her, shaking her fist at leagues of Orcs - Damn you, you'll not touch a hair on his head! and someday Mearas will fly!***

- and Béma only knows that almost made Gamling laugh, but he managed to contain himself.

"Why would you need to watch-"

"I was left behind before!" Her fist thumped on his armor. "He went to hunt a stupid boar and left me behind!" Her fingers wrapped around the leather straps across his chest. "Lufian was hit in the back of his head! I would have watched his back!" She thumped her head against him. "I have watched his back before! I would have watched yours! " She turned loose and tried to shove him backwards. "Damn it! Damn it! Do not make me beg!"

***No. I did that last night...***

"Aefre. You cannot go to Gondor-"

"Why not? Give me one good reason?"

Gamling pushed forward, pinning her to the tree. "Because you are needed here, because …owyn needs your counsel, because I forbid it, because-"

"That's more than one!"

"-I need to know you're safe! Béma! Will you be quiet?"

Aefre's mouth snapped open again to berate him, snapped shut again, became unhinged...

"What the-" - her eyes focused around him. "Gamling, your horse is servicing my mare!"

"What?" Gamling turned and looked over his shoulder to see Dréogan doing just that to a very willing Adenydd. "No wonder he knew you were back behind us," he shrugged good - naturedly. "Can't begrudge him that."

***Yes yes yesyes! That is MY destrier!***

He turned back to the woman now ensconced in his arms. "Has Adenydd ever been bred before?"

"No, I wouldn't let her. There wasn't a stallion whose bloodlines..."

"Do you have a problem with my stallion's bloodlines?"

"No," she whispered. He leaned over and nuzzled her.

"Only with his Rider?"

"Only when his Rider is being a bonehead."

"That's part of my job. Captain of the Riddermark, general of Théoden King's Army, several thousand men under my command, Aefre's personal bonehead."

Aefre was laughing into his chest. "Since when did you become so glib?"

He tightened his embrace. "It is a ruse; it's keeping me from throttling you." His resolve hardened, his anger renewing itself. "Aefre, do you have any idea of the stupidity-"

"Don't! Don't berate me!" Gamling looked down to see her staring at him, earnestly. "Don't leave me. Don't make me stay behind. Let me go, please."

"No."

"Gamling, please-"

She was silenced by a single finger. "If I didn't care for you, love you, I would not have bothered bringing you back or explaining this. Someone must stay behind and help to manage Edoras in Théoden's absence. Someone must bolster the hopes of those left behind. Someone must organize the patrols, the watch. Spring planting must begin this week. …owyn will need help. The job, the charge I leave you with is every bit as important as fighting. Men will die, Aefre. Someone must be here to pick up the pieces. Helm's Deep was just a taste of the wailing that will be heard in Rohan at the outcome of this war." He held her tighter, whispering in her ear. "If Gondor falls, someone must gather what is left of the Rohirrim and either make a stand or decide where to run. Believe me, what I ask of you is more difficult than what you wish for."

"Gamling, please, Don't leave me behind. I can't-"

"You can!" His finger slid under her chin and he lifted it, forcing her to look at him. "You will!" He thumbed the single tear from her cheek. "I wish no angry words between us. Give up, Aefre. You will not win this one." He looked over his shoulder, Dréogan and Adenydd still-

"Damn!" Gamling whistled between his teeth. "I wish I had his stamina!"

"I'm glad you don't." Aefre mumbled hotly. "Ah, no..."

"What?"

"Willan."

Sure enough, visible in the distance, driving a loaded wagon, Willan headed towards them slowly. Although he was still some distance away, worry was evident on his face.

"Good. I can leave you in strong hands."

"Gamling, please-"

"Aefre!" Again , his voice was clipped and tight. "There is no discussion. It will take me several hours to catch back up to the Muster of Rohan. Dréogan might not be at full strength due to your willfulness." Willan was now close enough to hear the argument.

"Upon my return, we will discuss who owns the foal your mare no doubt is now carrying-"

"Owns? OWNS? We'll discuss a stud fee and nothing else!"

"Deal! Willan!" Gamling grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the lumbering cart. "Willan! Did you know this contrary woman disguised herself and tried to pass herself off as a Rider?"

Willan looked at Aefre, smiled serenely and shrugged. He tossed an apple to Gamling and a carrot to Aefre. He winked at Aefre.

*sorry*

"You knew and you let her go? Dréogan! Apple!" Gamling held it up in the air and listened for the inevitable thundering hooves. "You and I will have a talk when I return. In the meantime-" the apple was snatched from the Horse Lord's hand by eager equine teeth, "do not allow her to follow. Take Adenydd's shoes off and confine her to a locked box stall, if you must-"

"Gamling! NO!"

"Yesss. Do you understand, Willan? If you have to tie this woman to my bed, do so."

"Gamling!"

***no wait. I'll do that when I return. hmmmmm***

"Aefre," he took the carrot from her hand and gave it to her mare, "no angry words. Just do as I bid." He kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be back as quickly as I can and you may yell, berate and curse me until the end of time. I'll yell back. It will be noisy and we will drive …omer and …owyn insane."

"We'll find him an ugly, dumpy, princess."

Dréogan was nuzzling Adenydd again and he had a distinct gleam in his eye. Gamling grabbed the mare's reins and handed them to Willan.

"Quick. Tie her to the back of the cart before my stallion gets any more ideas. Bad enough I have to ride his sweaty arse back." Willan climbed down from the wagon and took Adenydd towards the rear. While the man was turned away, Gamling kissed the woman again in his arms. " I need you here. I need to know you are safe. I need to know you are keeping …owyn strong. Please understand." He pulled her close once again. "Get in the cart. Now."

"Gamling... ple-"

One moment, she was standing on the ground, in his embrace; the next, she was flying in the air and found herself on the crude shelf of a seat.

"No angry words, Aefre. I don't wish them echoing in my head going into battle." He patted her knee and stepped back. "You have this wench in hand, Willan?" The mute saluted, a mischievous grin on his face. "Good. Turn it around and head home. I *will* see you again, Aefre. After all, we have a stud fee to discuss."

The cart pulled in a jerk, slowly making a large circle. Gamling took Dréogan by the reins and swung up and with one last look, turned and took off back in the direction he had come. He knew Aefre was watching, would watch until she could see him no longer.

Both forgot the dropped and thrown helmets, lying over-looked in the dirt.

Rider Of The Mark 17


Ere the Red Sun Rises




***

It was almost sunset before Gamling finally caught up to the Rohirrim horde. He could have intercepted them by early mid-day, had he pressed, but he didn't want to over-tax Dréogan. Between racing through the Eastenment, riding out and back, plus servicing Aefre's...

***hothotdammitdammitwitchyfirecrazywoman***

...mare, well... Gamling's brain was exhausted just thinking about it. And rather than race to catch the …orlings, he kept a steady pace, eating dried venison strips and drinking water from his water skin. When the sun began to set, he saw the lingering dust, signaling that he was close. He rode into camp, nodding at the Riders, greeting those in his command. He found Théoden and Elfhelm, as well as …omer, quickly enough.

"Wondered where you had gotten to." …omer sat by a small campfire, a kettle of whatever the Riders had caught simmering. He dished up a bowl and handed it to the older Horse Lord.

"I'm fine." Gamling gratefully took the stew, which appeared to be mostly rabbit and other unidentifiable pieces.

"What was it that upset Dréogan so much?" Théoden asked quietly.

"Mare in season." Gamling sat down beside Théoden and stirred the greasy stew. He curled his lip in distaste. "This looks like some swill …owyn would concoct."

"Tastes as bad as well," …omer agreed. "I think the men will not ask the younger Riders to cook any more."

"So, did he service her?" Elfhelm asked nonchalantly.

"Yes."

"Took long enough."

"He was thorough."

…omer wiped his hands on his leggings. "I think I'll turn in. I want to get an early start and scout ahead." Nodding to his uncle and Gamling, he got up and ambled towards his bedroll.

"I think I'll turn in as well." Elfhelm bowed to Théoden and nodded to Gamling before heading off.

It was quiet for a few moments while Gamling attempted to eat. Finally giving up, he dumped the offensive offering into the fire and set the bowl aside.

"It was Aefre, wasn't it?"

"Aye."

Théoden disposed of his stew as well. "This stuff is wretched. If I didn't know better, I would swear …owyn made it. Bah!" He propped his elbows on his knees, and cupped his chin on the backs of his hands. "She tried to follow?"

"Aye. Adenydd was in season and Dréogan knew it." A young Rider brought caffe, heavy, thick and smelling slightly burnt, but hot. The two waited until he left before continuing.

"You took her back to Dunharrow?" Gamling nodded, sinking his nose into his tankard. "I imagine- BAH! This stuff is as obnoxious as well! Béma, soldiers on campaign must have better rations than this! - I imagine she was not happy about it."

"I dealt with her."

Théoden poured the caffe out on the ground. "Please tell me you didn't carry her back, face down over your lap."

"No." The third sip wasn't any better than the first and Gamling poured his out as well.

"Good. You would have spent weeks getting back into her good graces." Théoden shifted closer to the fire. "I made Elfhild angry once. Spent three days sleeping with Snowmane in the stable."

Gamling stifled a smile. "The stable is not so bad, sire."

Théoden snorted. "Somehow, I doubt you will ever want to sleep in the stable again!"

Gamling's smile finally cracked. "You have been ever wise, m'lord."

Théoden nailed the younger Horse Lord with a steely gaze. "You are mocking me."

Gamling swallowed the wrong way and proceeded to choke. "My lord... no... I..."

"You are." Théoden continued seriously. "You are mocking me."

" Sire, no... please..."

Théoden broke up laughing, and pounded Gamling on the back. "You are too serious!" As quickly as he had begun laughing, Théoden snapped his mouth shut. "Left shoulder, Rider coming up. He has stared at you since your return."

Sure enough, a highly decorated Rider of an age with Gamling, stepped boldly up to the small campsite. He dipped his head to Théoden and turned to the Marshal. "You are Lord Gamling?"

"Just Gamling."

The Rider nodded once. "I would speak to you in private, sir."

Théoden and Gamling exchanged glances. "The man sitting with me is your King, Rider. You may speak freely."

The man took a deep breath. Théoden had not moved. "Very well," he began slowly. "My name is Ceneden. I was Lufian of the Wold's first in command and I brought Lady Aefre to Edoras at the king's command. I wish to know what your intentions toward her are."

***

Aefre kept herself busy.

Edoras was huge.

When emptied of able-bodied men and Riders, it echoed strangely, was unusually quiet, women and children speaking in hushed, reverent tones. Nerves were on edge, everyone aware of the simmering pot each one sat on.

Aefre kept herself busy.

While Willan set Gamling and Aefre's bedding and furs to rights, Aefre oversaw the dismantling of the refugee camp. The elderly and infirm were brought into the Golden Hall, set up in group rooms that had once been set aside for the Riders and guests.

Aefre kept herself busy.

Women, children, Riders unable to make the march to Gondor, were assigned on rotation in the watchtowers. Teens, young women, took turns on horses, riding out to the far reaches of the horizon, keeping watch.

Aefre kept herself busy.

Every one took turns preparing the soil in the fields; planting was to commence within one week. The few Riders left behind drilled anyone able to lift a sword.

Aefre kept herself busy.

Young women set snares, tested arrows, brought in hart and conies. Along with the cook, Aefre took stock of the stores, the game, poultry, smoked beef, hanging in the cellars; she took note of the bins of vegetables, fruit, meticulously preserved.

Aefre kept herself busy.

Aefre, along with the cook, and her two aides, walked through the barnyard, counting...

"This clutch of hens, allow them to sit their eggs..."

Novices too young for the army sheared sheep, washed the wool and hung it to dry; set it aside to be spun, dyed and carded. Laughing children scraped and curried the horses' rough coats. Stalls were cleaned and freshly sawdusted and strewn with straw.

Aefre kept herself busy.

Wood was chopped, stockpiled for a winter that might not come.

Aefre kept herself busy.

She soothed angry feelings, hurt feelings, eased fears. She rocked a tired babe whose mother stood watch on the tower.

She had large fires lit out on the Mark in the night, lighting up the plains, she assigned young people to man them, promising and rewarding them with sweets and pies fresh from the kitchens.

She had not slept the night before, tossing and turning in her cold bed, its blissful comfort that it had given her in the past, now gone, ridden off, like the Horse Lord whose bed she had shared the night before.

She spent the day after in a haze, going through the motions of life, of living, worried for Rohan, worried for those left behind.

Worried for him.

She stayed busy. Kept herself busy.

Late in the afternoon, as the sun was shining its last rays, Willan found her, in *his* room, ostensibly to hang more tapestries on the walls, put more rugs on the floor. Willan stared wordlessly, dumbfounded, as she flitted from wall to wall.

"Don't' just stand there, you ninny!" She was unusually curt with the gentle giant. She dragged a chair to the bare wall, "Help me hang this!"

Bright blue eyes looked down at her, at the wall, the hanging - Rohan's black banner - - -

Aefre had one foot propped on the chair, stressed beyond even her means. Willan took the wall banner from her, laying it gently on the table, before pulling her into a tight, protective embrace. Aefre stood stiff for a moment before finally melting, clutching at the servant's tunic. "He's coming back!" He squeezed her tighter. "He has to come back!" Despite her refusal to allow it, tears began to flow. "We have unfinished business! We have... stud...fees... to discuss and hammer out. I... I..."

For several long minutes, Willan let her cry it out; let her sob her frustrations, her anger, her despondency into his massive chest. She hadn't intended to be left behind, hadn't planned to be here, while he was there, hadn't counted on not being able to guard and watch his back. As her outrage began to quiet, Willan reached around and plucked Gamling's discarded tunic from the chair. He stepped back and wiped her face with it, before shoving it at her and pointing towards the bed.

"Willan, there is still dinner to be served, the night's rounds-"

He shook his head emphatically and pointed again towards the bed.

"I need to hang the banner-"

Again, the accusatory finger.

"Willan! I am not sleeping in Gamling's bed! People will talk!"

A shrug. *Who cares?* He picked her up and plopped her onto the bed. With a quirked eyebrow, he bowed and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. He left her sputtering in anger, her nose dripping, a rumpled tunic in her hands. She scooted to the edge of the huge bed - too big for her alone. She moved to rub her face again with the shirt.

- - - smelled like leather and horses and hay and a slight lingering sweat and earth and wind and-

- smelled like him.

"Béma!"

Aefre started to wad it up, put it in with the laundry, then decided to take it back to her chambers, before giving up, giving in and staying put in the Horse Lord's chamber. She stepped out of her work dress and shift, kicking them to the corner, before putting on the deep burgundy tunic. The hem fell to mid-calf, the shoulders falling off her; the sleeves were hanging past her fingertips. She giggled once, flapping her hands -

***much too big, hanging off me, I look like an enormous, freakish bird. Gamling, how would you laugh at silly Aefre - - -

- - - smells like wind and Gamling and leather and Gamling and Gamling and Gamling... ***

Aefre dropped the curtain at the window and crawled into the bed, under the furs. She fell into a long, deep, fitful sleep, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and of male scent and dreamt...

***Dreamt of a white city, its high towers and battlements and terraces under siege...

dreamt of a horde, an army on horseback taking the rise at sun up...

dreamt of crashing bodies and arrows and clubs...

dreamt of black shadowy winged things, with blood curdling screeches, dreamt of five legged animals, of enormous size, with long white fangs, that tossed horse and Rider into oblivion, like dust; of ghostly, spectral beings that swept the plains like silk over sand...

Of silence...

Horrible, deafening silence, and then, of weeping, a wail that rose over Rohan...

She dreamt of a child, blonde hair that shone red in the sun, on the back of a grey stallion...

Laughing...

Joyous...***

She awoke as the red sun rose.

And fell from the bed, prostrate.

Praying.

***

"Repeat yourself, Rider?" Théoden's voice was terse, clipped. Gamling's facial expression had not changed.

The Rider - Ceneden - sighed heavily. "I apologize, if I put that badly."

"If?"

Ceneden bowed to Théoden. "I apologize to you and your Captain." He nodded to Gamling. "I wish only to know the extent of your relationship with the Lady Aefre."

Gamling bristled. "I do not see where it would be of concern to you."

"But it IS of concern to me." He held up a hand warding the high ranked Horse Lord off. "Please, allow me to explain. I brought Lady Aefre to Edoras, for safekeeping. I was her husband Lufian's Captain and I and my men continue to be loyal to him and his wife." Théoden gestured, bidding him to sit down on the rock, so recently vacated by …omer. "I have known Lady Aefre for almost 25 years, since her teens, when she was betrothed to Lord Lufian."

"Wait," Théoden interrupted, "It was my understanding it was a love match."

"Oh, it was," Ceneden laughed. "I have never seen a man pursue such a spirited young one. Lady Aefre led him on quite the merry chase. No dainty miss was she." He smiled at that inward thought. "She made him spar with her in the yards, give her no quarter. You did not want to be on the wrong side of her in battle or when she was angry. And yet..." he inhaled, "yet, she could be as soft as... well, the two together were quite the spectacle. Lufian's death shook her, shook all of us to our very core. I do not know how she bore it." He nodded to the pot of caffe. "Fresh?"

"Swill."

"Oh." Ceneden shrugged and poured himself a mug anyway. "I have had swill. The reason why I asked your intent was..." He took a drink and made a wretched face before swallowing painfully. "Oh, that IS swill indeed. Not the worst, but close." He poured it out. "Lord Gifre-" he said the name with sarcasm and distaste, "caught us off guard, unawares; there were more of his men than there were of ours, and we were not given time to pack and leave properly. Lady Aefre had to leave with little more than her clothes and a few personal items." He picked up the mug and was fingering it nervously. "I'm telling you this, because if anything happens to me, I don't want it to come to pass that no one should know and Lady Aefre should be left homeless as well as bereft. We - Lufian's men - have kept our ears to the ground, listening, gathering evidence."

"What evidence would that be?" Gamling asked quietly.

The Rider from the Wold was quiet for a moment, gathering words, gathering thoughts. "We can't prove anything," he whispered. "Gifre knows, Eadlyn, Aefre's sister-in-law, knows that Lufian's and Aefre's household are loyal to them. They quieten around us, but we still hear-"

"Spit it out!" Théoden grew impatient.

"Gifre knew Eadlyn, and with possibly her aid, concocted a story about being related to Lufian. The day before the orders came for Riders to gather at Dunharrow, I received word that the only known relative to Lufian that I knew of, had been murdered a week before Gifre showed up on Aefre's doorstep." He leaned in closer to the two Riders. "Gifre is not what he claims to be. He is not related to Lufian's family. In fact, we think he was known to Aefre's brother's wife and as best as we can discern, he purposely took Lady Aefre's land and home with Eadlyn's blessing and aid. Why is anyone's guess. " The man's eyes were glittering in anger in the waning firelight. "Gifre and his men are not here. They went to ground when the orders came, but they knew. Cowards, the lot of them. Aefre would weep if she saw what they have done to her home. Please. I beg you," he beseeched, "if you care for her in the slightest, please make sure what is hers is returned." He grasped the Captain by the wrist, ignoring that the Horse Lord narrowed his eyes in consternation. "She would not give her body lightly. I suspect she gave you her heart as well. If *you* did not care, you would not have returned her to Dunharrow, removed her from the line, nor would you have waited until the line passed to admonish her. I watched," he confided. "As long as I could." The three sat quietly for several moments before Ceneden stood up. "Sire. I am sorry to intrude on you in this manner. I just wanted... someone to know."

"Now, someone does."

The King and the Captain watched as the Rider walked off, a shadow disappearing into the night. Théoden exhaled through his mouth. "You were looking for answers. There you have them."

"Aye." Gamling answered.

"More questions as well."

"Aye." Gamling continued to contemplate his tankard.

Théoden stood up, came around behind, and patted him on the shoulder. "Do not strain your eyes. She's safe; safe with …owyn. …owyn will take care of Edoras and Rohan and Aefre will advise her. Much as you advise me. Get some rest."

***

They rode throughout the day, taking a long break late in the afternoon, when …omer returned from meeting scouts sent ahead the night before.

"Minas Tirith is under siege; the Orcs are bringing heavy artillery and battering rams from Mordor. They will not last long," he confided to Théoden.

"Then it is settled. We ride through the night."

Over open plains, with only the light of the stars and moon to light their way, the Rohirrim rode. In the darkest deep of the night, before sunrise, they heard the noise, the swarm, could smell the fire, the sounds of war carrying on the night wind.

As the sun peered over the edge of the Ephel Duath - The Mountains of Shadow, smoke now visible over the plains before the White City, the Rohirrim crested the rise.

*****

Rider of the Mark 18

Forth …orlingas

***

Hige sceal þe heardra, heorte þe cenre,
mod sceal þe mare þe ure maegen lytlað.

***



There would come a time and a day when Gamling would remember clearly the horror of cresting the ridge and seeing the enormous horde attacking the fabled city of Minas Tirith.

Today was not that day.

There would come a time and a place where he would remember the smell, the stench of Orc and fire and blood rising from Pelennor Fields.

Today was not that day.

There would come a time when he would remember the blood rising, his adrenaline cresting as Théoden King called the Rohirrim to arms.

Now was not that time.

There would come an hour when he would remember the pride of being told to follow the King's banner, down the center, leading one third of the …orlings into battle, now the Marshal behind Rohan's ruler.

Now was not that hour.

In the days, weeks, months, years, to come, he would clearly remember his sight going red; he would understand explicitly the meaning of 'berserking'.

He would remember the wind rushing through his hair.

He would remember the battle cries of the Rohirrim.

He would remember the joy of watching the entire Orc army, regrouping, taking their attention from the city, and turning it to the Horse Lords bearing down on them.

He would remember the sound of Dréogan screaming, as he bore his Rider into the thick of the fray.

He would remember the sound of his sword as he pulled it from its scabbard and would remember the feel of the ribband wound around his sword hand. For a fleeting moment, he would remember the woman back in Edoras; she made him angrier than a sudden thunderstorm, softer than a goose feather pillow, harder than the granite that lined the river of his youth, and made him sigh with unending comfort. For a scant second, he could hear her voice... *Just Gamling*... for that fleeting moment, he was glad he caught her, glad she was safe in Edoras, with …owyn, glad she was not being subjected to this.
He would remember the sound of arrows whizzing past his ear, remember the fury he felt when a surface cut appeared on Dréogan's flank, and Dréogan's responding scream of burning pain and anger. In time, he would know that Rohirrim fell behind him.

He would understand on the morrow, that the reason his throat was sore, was due to the battle cry, which issued, unendingly from his mouth.

He would remember basking in satisfaction for a blink of an eye, as the Orcs backed up, dropping their weapons.

He would remember seeing Théoden disappear into a sea of Orc rabble.

And following.

There would come a time when he would remember Dréogan bunching under him, feeling him angle, leap up and over, hooves lashing out, rushing headlong into the rabble of Orcs, feeling them fall beneath his stallion's hooves.

He would remember the gloating he felt at seeing the fear on the Orcs' faces as they realized they were no longer winning; that Gondor was no longer alone, that aid had come in the form of armed men on creatures with angry hooves, snorting steam and blood. He would remember the rush of adrenalin as the Orcs turned and ran.

Ran and scattered like the scuttling cockroaches they were.

At this moment, he did not remember any of this.

There would come a second, a snap of the fingers, when he would remember hearing the horns of the Haradrim...

Hearing their singing, chanting...

The Mûmakil...

In time, he would remember dismounting, following Théoden's orders, to sound the horn, to regroup the Rohirrim...

***Reform the line reform the line...***

He would never remember pulling his bow from his saddle, would not remember grabbing a handful of arrows from his quiver. He would remember the tautness, the pull of the string, the vibration as he released the arrow and nocked the next...

***bring it down bring it down bring it down...***

At some moment in time, he would remember seeing the crazy Rohirrim that rode beneath one mûmak, a sword in each hand...

But right now, that memory did not register.

Someday, someone would tell him of …omer, spear in hand, throwing it, bringing down the front rider, effectively taking out not only the mûmak and its accompanying contingent of archers, but the one next to it as well.

***bring it down bring it down bring it down...***

In time, he would remember the fear he felt as he remounted and charged the Haradrim line. He would remember watching Horse and Rider being swept aside, flying through the air, as the Haradrim and their beasts advanced and decimated the lines of the Horse Lords.

He had been correct; the wailing in Rohan would be unrivaled.

In the days to come, he would remember the disbelief that he had survived the initial line of the Haradrim; that he lived to turn and attack once again. He would remember the dread he felt as he rode beneath one of the giant monsters, realizing it was Ceneden beside him for a scant second before hearing the Rider's bones crunch as he and his destrier were stepped on...

***Béma take you swiftly on his wings...***

...crushed into the dirt...trusting Dréogan to shift and feint, as he aimed upwards...

***bring it down bring it down bring it down...***

...barely clearing its underbelly as it fell.

For years, well into his old age, when he pulled his chair closer and closer to the fire for warmth, he would delve into his memory, try to remember how he had become so far separated from his king...

He would remember the Ring Wraith flying over and landing, he would remember seeing Snowmane flying, knowing, knowing, knowing Théoden flew with him. He would remember trying to cut through the hordes of downed Haradrim, the returning Orcs, cursing, damning each and every one that stood between him and his lord.

He would remember the lone Rider who stood up between the Wraith and the king.

Seeing the morningstar.

And realizing in horror that the Rider was no man.

In time, he would remember the screeching of the Army of the Dead, grateful that Aragorn had finally arrived.

In time, the battle would end and he would well remember it all. Every grisly, wretched detail.

But now was not the time.

For this moment, the only thing he was aware of was the feel of the broken body of his king in his arms-

***if I should fall if I should fall if I should fall...***

-the desolate feeling that he had failed his liege...

...and the sound of …omer, screaming.

***

Translation:
the Rohirrim (?): 'Will shall be the sterner, heart the bolder,
spirit the greater as our strength lessens.'

Additional reminder disclaimer: This is MOVIEVERSE! (Even though I'm reaching a point where I'm going to have to start following canon a little more closely.) And in the EE of ROTK, the Tree of Gondor is trying to bloom before Aragorn's return.





Rider of the Mark 19

To be or not to be... King.

***

Five days after Aragorn released the Army of the Dead, Gamling found …omer standing at the top of Minas Tirith, over the battlement where Denethor had taken his last, fiery plunge. The new King stared over the devastation that was Pelennor Fields.

"…omer."

"What?" the new king asked dully.

Gamling breathed in heavily. "How fares your sister?"

…omer didn't turn back, didn't look at the newly raised Marshal. "She will live." He blew out of his mouth. "Thank Béma, she will live." He shook his head, continuing to watch the living scavenge through the corpses, identifying, finding life still clinging among the dead. "I don't know if I should beat her or hug the very life from her scrawny body!"

Gamling remembered back... was it a week?... before, when he had wanted to do the one, but had done the other instead to Aefre. "As much as you desire to throttle her, best to hold her close. You almost lost her."

"Aye." Although he had his back to the Horse Lord, Gamling could hear the smile in …omer's voice. "Uncle said to listen to you first and heed your counsel. You give good advice." …omer's voice hitched and he coughed in an attempt to cover and stifle his show of grief.

Considering his outpouring of anguish on the field upon finding …owyn’s body barely clinging to life, Gamling was surprised the young King had anything left. "I... uh... found Firefoot wandering. I stabled him with Dréogan and tended to his injuries."

"Thank you. Bad?"

Gamling shrugged. "Mostly surface cuts. He was armored well." He saw no need to tell …omer of the partial Orc skull imbedded in his mount's rear hoof. Dréogan had Orc hair and blood splatterings as well. He had carefully bathed both, washing the gore from their horses' bodies and armor. "I have seen to Théoden's body."

"Please tell me you did not burn-"

"NO!" Gamling spat. "He has been interred with their Kings until we can return him to Rohan." It was quiet for a few moments. "I buried Snowmane as well."

"I am glad. I could not bear it had they burned him." …omer sighed and relaxed slightly. "I hate it that they are burning our dead." They watched as yet another pile of bodies were set afire. "Would that we could carry them home and bury them to singing and toasting as they deserve." …omer wrinkled his nose at the smell wafting from the field; the stench of burning flesh would linger on the air for weeks. "But there is no other choice. Have you-"

"We have removed all identifying Marks from the dead." Gamling pressed his hand to his chest, feeling his own stone, with his name, house, and city etched on it. "I have told the survivors to wash them, clean them as best as possible."

"Good idea. Their widows and children do not need to see-"

"No." Gamling interrupted the young king, his mind equally abhorred at the thought of families seeing hard evidence of the gore and brutality of their loved ones' death. "I will be sending several messengers back to Edoras as soon as possible with the identifying stones and a list of the known injured."

Save one. In the hand with Aefre's ribband still wound around it, he clutched Ceneden's stone. Gamling had searched long and hard to find the ruins of man and horse, for he felt he owed it to the brave Rider. Although he was no Rohirrim Holy Man, Gamling had blessed the body - what was left of it - and sworn to care for Aefre. Gamling had decided to take this mark back to her personally and get to the bottom of Gifre and his perfidy. It had been obvious that Ceneden had been devoted to the memory of his Lord and his Lord's wife and knowing Aefre, she would be upset. Gamling was determined that she would not grieve alone; would have someone - him - to comfort her.

" 'Tis not over." …omer interrupted the Marshal's thoughts. He gestured across to Mordor, to the tower where the Eye was barely visible, an evil glow against a blackened sky. "Aragorn says Sauron is emptying Mordor, all his minions march on Gondor. Frodo still lives and walks within sight of the Great Eye. We are to create a diversion at the Black Gate.

***Wonderful. More deaths, more killing, more empty stones to send to Rohan.***

It was time. Gamling placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, to draw it out.

"Sire-"

"Don't call me that!"

Gamling exhaled. He had hoped this would be easier, but …omer was not going to cooperate. "My Lord-"

"Nor that!" …omer turned on him, fury and grief evident in his face. "I'm not ready! It is too soon! Do no-"

"My Liege!" Gamling drew himself up to his full height, standing nose to nose with the Rohirrim King, "Your men need you. Rohan needs you. You sister needs you! There will be a time to grieve, a time to mourn our losses, your uncle, but even by your own admission, now is not the time!" He stepped back and unsheathed his sword.

Going down on one knee, he offered up the blade. "I pledge my fealty, my allegiance to you, …omer, King of Rohan. I ask that you use me as you see fit. My sword, my horse, my very life are yours." It was quiet for a minute, Gamling on one knee, head bowed, sword arm outstretched. Finally-

"Rise." There was a feather-light touch on his shoulder. "I accept your fealty, my friend." There was a gentle stress on the last two words. Gamling stood and resheathed his sword. "Tell me, will all give me that pledge?"

"No." Gamling looked up at the young King and shook his hair from his eyes. "They will pledge fealty to Rohan and her King. My pledge was as my father taught me."

For the first time in days, …omer truly smiled. "And you will teach it to your son."

"If Béma so blesses."

"So blesses? Old man, if you keep after Aefre the way you obviously did in Dunharrow, the way she was calling your name... Edoras will be crawling with Horse Lordlets and Shield Toddlers..."

"…omer!" Gamling was curt. "Aefre was-"

***babybabybabywithbrownbrowneyes and...***

"-married for a long time and bore no children. Not that it matters to me."

"Gamling!" …omer winked. "Perhaps it was her husband's fault!" He stepped around the Horse Lord. "I've known a stallion or two in my day who couldn't sire a single colt no matter the fertility of the mare! I'm going to check on Firefoot. Shall I stop by the kitchens and take Dréogan an apple?"

***babybabybabyspoilmyhorsewillyoudammitdammit***

"He will follow you everywhere."

"Ah, is that your secret? I'll have to remember that. Apples! He can be bribed with apples! So be it!" …omer started to leave, but thought twice. "Gamling?" The Marshal had taken …omer's post, overlooking the battlefield. "You took Aefre back to Dunharrow, didn't you? I thought that might be the reason - you would not have turned back for anyone other than her."

"Aye."

Like a whisper on the wind, the King was at his shoulder. "If I discover that Aefre aided …owyn in her folly in any way, if she knew …owyn and that Hobbit had joined the …orlings, I shall be most displeased."

Gamling's stony gaze never left the field. "…owyn and Aefre were not the only women to come disguised as Riders." The Marshal nodded towards the field. "I have lost count of the Shield Maidens among the dead and injured."

"I know." …omer's hand settled on Gamling's well-armored shoulder. "Still-"

"You would have to go through me."

…omer's smile was almost jovial. "That serious?"

Gamling's hand clenched around the ribband, "Aye."

…omer nodded satisfactorily. "Uncle would be pleased." He turned and strode away, the White Tree of Gondor struggling to blossom behind him.

***hmmmm... one dumpy, mouthy princess for you... now where oh where to find her...***

***

Black and rolling clouds, like plumes of smoke, were ominous in the south. Lurid lightning flashes fractured the sky.

They matched Aefre's mood.

She stood in the watchtower, a boy of eight summers and one of twelve standing next to her, keeping watch. She was in a tunic and leggings and was sweaty from her work out with several young women on the training field. She tore her attention from the southern sky and looked out into the fields. Signaling the bell ringer, she watched as the last shift began to make their way in from the field; the dirt was tilled, manure and shavings were now being turned into the soil, fertilizing, enriching the earth. Aefre decided to let no field lie fallow this season, if anything it would keep the Rohirrim left behind busy an extra few days. Nervous laughter floated up from the ground and Aefre looked down to see several women, clad similarly to herself, heading towards the baths. They were proud, tough, these women.

*If Gondor falls and evil comes our way, they will not raze a helpless community*

Mentally, Aefre rolled through the list of missing women - chambermaids, daughters of Horse Lords, Riders; …owyn had not ridden alone, she smirked. The King's niece was in good company of Shield Maidens. Aefre recalled with fondness her Gondorian grandmother and mother, sitting at their knees, learning gentle arts.

Trying to learn, at least.

Needle and thread escaped her, her stitches uneven and large, not the fine, dainty things of her maternal side.

"Wild things!" her grandmother would whisper, admonish Aefre's mother. "You had to fall in love with a Wild Thing."

"I fell in love with a man, mother."

"Aye." The elderly woman would smile, twinkle even. "You fell in love with a man with glorious hair, and an amazing horse! Aefre!" While her voice was sharp, it was filled with love. "You watch how he treats his horse. If a man is cruel to his horse, he is not worth snuggling or keeping warm at night!"

"Mother!"

"What?"

Aefre's mother was beet-red. "You'll fill her head with such nonsense!"

Aefre lost her mother to a lung ailment the next winter; her grandmother moved to her home away from Aefre's father, and Aefre had learned bedroom arts hiding in cupboards, behind draperies, listening to the chambermaids.

Listening to her husband.

***I cannot read your mind, Aefre. Tell me what you like and I'll teach you how to make me beg...***

For the first time since his death, she was not filled with longing or sadness at the thought of him. A dusting of yellow pollen wafted across the bell tower, the color of Lufian's hair. As it drifted away, it dissipated, turning invisible in the air.

Sighing in resignation, she sent the younger of the two boys to the Hall for his evening meal, thanking him for keeping such good watch on the tower. She then turned to the elder of the two.

"The sun is setting and I am going to take a turn lighting the bonfires at the edge of the horizon. If you ride, you may go with me."

"My father was a Horse Lord! One of Théoden King's personal knights!" the boy said stiffly. "Of course I can ride!"

"Ah." The two headed down the ladder. "Another one whose father has... wait. You said 'was'." Aefre stopped and waited for they youngster to join her on the ground.

"My father was killed during the exodus to Helm's Deep." The boy swallowed heavily and he looked off into the distance, obviously trying to regain control. Aefre touched him on the arm and nodded with her head for him to follow her into the stables. Quietly, they saddled their mounts, Adenydd stomping, wanting exercise. Before mounting, Aefre retrieved fire starters, kindling as well as a water skin and some deer strips. Dinner would be over when they returned, although they were likely to find some leftovers waiting for them in the kitchens. It would almost be dark by the time they reached the first bonfire site. Slowly, the two made their way out, riding south. The boy said nothing, although Aefre hoped he was who she thought he was. The sun was down and they had lit the third pyre before the boy finally asked, "Why are we doing this?"

Aefre stepped back and looked to the North, around the side of Edoras. Two others were lighting pyres and she watched one to up in flames. "Several reasons. It lights up the Riddermark, guiding Riders home as well as aiding those who keep watch at night to see further."

"Keeps the Orcs and the Mountain men away."

Smart one, this one. "No sneak attacks, Haleth. We'll see them coming."

They rode in silence to the next pyre. The following morning, groups would go into the wooded areas and bring more wood to pile up and prepare for burning that night. It would-

"I would think you did it to keep us busy."

VERY smart, this one. "Aye. That too, Haleth."

They finished their part of the circle, fully dark now and lit the last pyre before heading back.
"You know my name. How? I have not met you before."

Aefre stopped, the heat of the fire at her back. "I guessed." She smoothed the child's hair back. "Soon, you will be putting this back in a proper braid and will start your Rider training. Your father will look down upon you with pride."

Haleth looked up at her, a hopeful gleam in his eye. "You think so?"

"I know so." She released him and mounted Adenydd. Slowly they headed back towards the fires of Edoras. "Haleth? Where have you been? Gamling has been very worried."

"He has?" The child's voice hitched a bit. "He would be. He was Da's best friend." It was quiet for a moment before he continued. "I stayed at Helm's Deep. I couldn't bear the trip back to Edoras, knowing that... that... over a hill..."

"It's all right, Haleth. I understand." It was well whispered that when the Riders finally returned to gather the dead from the Warg attack after Helm's Deep, there had been precious little left to claim. The Riders had finally collected their identifying stones and left the remains in a nearby cave, piling stones to seal the entrance and leaving a marker.

"Anyway, I stayed, aiding in the clean up and restocking. When word came for all to gather at Dunharrow, I rode with the men to the encampment and then returned to Edoras by another path." He was quiet again for a moment for continuing. "I suppose that makes me a coward."

"No, Haleth. It does not."

"I wanted to go," he rushed on. "To Gondor, that is. But the men said I was too young. The Halfling got to go. I saw him." Haleth groused. "Lady …owyn did as well. She is not in Edoras. She had to have gone. I wanted to fight. I fought at Helm's Deep," his voice trailing away in a whisper. "I would have gone."

"I'm glad you didn't. Rohan will need good Riders still." They were nearing the front gate and Aefre called out to have them opened.

"Lady Aefre?"

"Yes?"

"If anything happens to Gamling, I'll have no one."

"Yes you will, Haleth," she stated boldly, as they entered the gates. "You'll have me."

***
tbc
***

Rider of the Mark 20

Growling Riders in the Sky

***

There was a hanging garden of sorts on the upper balconies of the Houses of Healing. Apparently, the Gondorian architects had decided that beautiful and pleasant smelling growing things aided recuperation and rehabilitation. Medicinal herbs grew alongside floral arrangements in pots, spilling over the edges of planters.

Not only was it easy on the eyes, it helped to cover the stench of burning timbers and bodies.

*** Aefre would love this. She would glory in the sweetness and the beauty of this. Perhaps, when this war is over and all is peaceful and when …omer can spare me time, I'll bring her here and- ***

"You do not have to stand guard over me, Gamling." …owyn looked up and over her shoulder at the tall man behind her, from the bench where she sat, bringing him out of his musings.

"I do, milady. If I do not, surely you would armor and saddle up and attempt to join us on our campaign to the Black Gate."

…owyn winced, whether it was at his words - although they were spoken with an underlying tone of rare humor and fondness from the man, or whether it was the pain in her arm, still wrapped with unguent-smeared cloths. Her fingertips were still tinged with blue. "I do not think I will be going anywhere soon." She smiled at the Horse Lord and turned to look out over the landscape. Black clouds rolled, churning, the sickly yellow glow of Barad-dur casting eerie lighting on the clouds. "I am too weak to mount up, much less pull a sword." She inspected her wrapped hand. "I couldn't even grasp a child's knife." Reluctantly, she turned to the Marshal standing behind her. "Ah... Hengist..."

***Found, gutted, slaughtered, only recognizable by the armor made by your order...***

"I have searched the stables. He is nowhere to be found. I would not hold out hope."

"Oh." …owyn dropped her eyes sadly. "You wouldn't tell me if you found him dead, anyway." She tapped him with her good hand on his chest plate. "You, for all your gruffness and cantankerousness, have a kind heart."

Gamling leaned down, closer to the young Shield Maiden. "Do not tell a soul. Or I will be forced to tell your brother that I caught you kissing Galan in the stable last summer."

…owyn’s jaw dropped. "You did no such thing! You wouldn't dare, you-"

"I was very quiet and you were very preoccupied."

"Why... why... you..." …owyn sputtered and leaned back away from him. "I feel so very sorry for Aefre," she mumbled.

"If your brother discovers that she aided you in this folly, aye, you should feel very sorry for her."

…owyn paled. "I would not be left behind."

"No. Not you."

***and at least thirty others that I know of. Bodies. Every. One.***

"Gamling?" …owyn was now facing him, chin held up in defiance. "Please tell me you did not harm Aefre when you returned her to Dunharrow."

The wind rustled through the leaves of the flowering plants. "Do you think I would?"

"You were very angry. And you are known to be harsh. Just, but harsh."

Gamling had taken Dréogan out that morning for a short ride, stretching and working muscles that had no doubt been sore - his and his horse's. He slowly removed his right riding glove, flexing his hand and revealing a grimy, filthy ribband. He inspected it closely, knowing …owyn did as well and recognized it. "Tell me again. Do you think I would harm her?" He held his breath until she answered, her pale hand covering his.

"No. I don't think you would. You really should wash this before the next battle."

Gamling slowly put his glove back on. "You have a watcher."

Over to the right stood a tall young man, overlooking the terrace. …owyn smiled-

***gently? GENTLY? Dammit! Dammit! …omer will shite rocks!...***

- gently. "That is Steward Denethor's last surviving son. Faramir."

"He has a dark look."

…owyn smacked him playfully on the arm with her good hand. "I think he looks kind."

"Nevertheless," and with this, Gamling stepped to her side, between her and the so-called Steward of Gondor, "I will stay and keep watch until you tire-"

"I am afraid," there was humorous steel in her voice, "my brother has more need of you than I do." …owyn nodded in the opposite direction. Gamling turned to see …omer striding purposefully toward the two.

"And how is my prettiest sister?" The new king of Rohan's voice boomed throughout the enclosed terrace and he leaned over to envelop her in a bear hug.

"I'm your only sister, you dolt!" Despite her irate words, she returned the embrace, as best she could.

"Dolt?" …omer feigned hurt feelings. "My beloved sister called me 'a dolt.' You've been spending too much time with Aefre. I'll have to have Gamling have a word with her."

*** Or two or three or thousands upon thousands. Won't work; she's still stubborn.***

…omer's devotion to his sister had been well-known among the Rohirrim, but now it was also obvious to the men of Gondor and Belfalas. Imrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth had watched the young king with keen interest and had quietly questioned Aragorn of not only of his marriageable status, but the status of the Rohirric lands and the stability and strengths of its people.

"Come, …owyn. Back to bed for you. I need to talk to Gamling and I don't want you out and about."

"I'm fine." …owyn used her brother's strong arms to rise and then removed herself from his embrace. "You go on. If I need help, I'll call for it." she cast a side glance to where the Gondorian soldier stood and moved away, down to the opposite side of the terrace, away from her brother and his Marshal. …omer did not miss the glances his sister had sent in the direction of the Gondorian soldier in the shadows, seeing it in the coyness and flirtatiousness many a woman had sent him.

He scowled over in the man's direction. "Is that-"

"Faramir."

"Hmm." He leaned in and whispered to Gamling, "Is he giving her looks back?"

"Yes."

"Damn!" …omer scowled. "We are at war! This is no time for romance or-"

He stopped at Gamling's raised brow. "Well, you are older and need-"

He stopped at Gamling's OTHER raised eyebrow. "Béma! Gamling! She's my sister! She's all I---"

…omer's voice trailed off as it dawned on him what he was about to say and he snapped his mouth shut.

"Leave it be." Gamling clapped him on the shoulder. "Where are we to meet Elfhelm?"

"He is to meet us, along with Aragorn, the Elf Twins, Imrahil and Gandalf in half an hour in the East wing to plan our attack and diversion. We will need to rouse the Rohirrim and relay our plan." He scrunched his face in thought. "They *are* behaving themselves, aren't they?"

"As well as can be expected."

The two Horse Lords slowly began to make their way from the terrace in the general direction of Faramir, who had now stepped from the shadows and was standing out in the open. His movements were slow, stiff.

Indeed, …omer was shocked to see the man up and moving around. He had seen him so near death when he had visited …owyn early upon her admission to the Healing Houses.

"You know what to do?" It was whispered in Rohirric.

"Aye."

The two sped up their pace, echoing bootfalls in tandem, bearing down on the lone soldier. As they reached him, they split, …omer to one side of the man; Gamling to the other.

While they did not touch Faramir, the breeze from their cloaks could be felt. As they passed, each looked down at the man.

…omer growled

Gamling growled.

They continued, boots clicking in tandem, as they moved down the hall and around the corner before …omer husked, "While we may have a few Rohirrim coming home with Gondorian brides when this is over, that one will have to prove the mettle he is made from before he sniffs around my sister!"

***Methinks you are fighting a losing battle, …omer king!***

Faramir held his smile and his breath until the two impressive Horse Lords passed, and waited until their footfalls died away. Slowly, he released it and took another, calming, cleansing one.

"…omer, King of Rohan," he thought to himself. “If that's how you wish to play this, so be it."

***

"Lady Aefre, you need to speak to the cook. This hart is over-cooked."

"Lady Aefre, I hung the linens out. Surely, someone else can bring it in."

"Lady Aefre, I worked n the East Field until sundown and then was up with the dawn patrol. Could you possibly spare me this evening?"

"Lady Aefre, these two filthy urchins had a mud battle where the bed clothing was hung. What should we do with them?"

"Lady Aefre, you must put Aislynne and Reinowynne on different tasks! Too often, I catch them getting into mischief and not paying attention to the task at hand."

"Lady Aefre? Someone let the chickens out."

"Lady Aefre. Garth did not grain the horses properly."

"Lady Aefre, someone should teach Beornia to make a bed properly!"

"Lady Aefre, you must put the black and white cow with the bull or there will be no end to her complaining! She is moaning and switching her tail-"

"Lady Aefre, I have a wart on my nose. Surely someone has cursed me!"

"Lady Aefre, Diera has gone into labor-"

"Lady Aefre, I mucked the stalls two days in a row. It is someone else's turn!"

"Lady Aefre-"

"Lady Aefre-"

"Lady Aefre-"

"Lady Aefre-"

Aefre sat, staring blankly into the hearth. The hour was late and every muscle in her body ached, yet she knew she would get no rest this night. For days, the tension level had been rising in Edoras, everyone watching the sky turn bleaker and blacker, lightning roaming and glowing eerily. Nerves were on edge, women who had been best of friends since the cradle were now arguing, cat-fighting over silly, stupid things. Aefre bore the scratches on her arm, breaking up one such fight. Both women were now doing extra chores on opposite sides of the city - one peeling potatoes for the morning meal, the other boiling water to wash linens. Even her own temper was short; she had caught a child of five summers turning the hens loose and she had pulled him by the ear to the cook to scrub pots. She had gone as far as to slam the door to Gamling's chambers in the cook's face after the over-bearing, nosy woman had asked her why she had taken residence in chambers that did not belong to her.

A cup of tea was set down on the small table next to the chair she sat in.

"Thank you, Willan." Her gaze never left the grate. "Do you have a shoulder and an ear to lend, my friend?" She heard, rather than saw him pull a chair up. She did see the mug of ale he set down for himself. "And none for me?" she grinned sardonically.

Willan shrugged. *Aye.*

Aefre took a sip from the cup. "What am I going to do? I know they are missing their men, their sons. I know their daughters and sisters have sneaked off to ride with them and many will not return. Cynn's only daughter took his name mark and rode. She is only seventeen summers and Cynn is worried sick! So am I." She took another sip. "I’m worried for Cynn, for his daughter, for all of them. …omer. …owyn. Théoden King." There was a short pause. "Gamling."

***Just Gamling...***

"They can't see beyond their own noses, their own feelings. What do we do if Gondor falls? What do we do if the enemy invades Rohan? Do we scatter? Give in to slavery? I can't get them to work together, how can I get them to fight together? I cannot sleep in my bed, yet I dream dark dreams in his! Horrid beasts, misshapen men, spectral beings. I dream of a dark gate, things, wretched things, pouring from it; a mountain that spews fire. And there are so few Riders! Willan, how can they overcome that? How can they win? Wilda and Rowena argue over who did the most chores! How can they be so dense? I am tempted to work them to the bone, but if we are attacked, they will be too tired to fight or run! We cannot retreat to Helm's Deep. Where do we run?" Aefre drained the cup and stared into the cold hearth. "Your mother was versed in the old ways, wasn't she, Willan?"

He nodded.

"How much did you put in my tea?"

The mute held his fingers together. *A pinch.* Willan stood up and came around to stand behind her. Strong, yet gentle hands began to knead, work the tension from her body.

"You need a wife, Willan." Aefre relaxed into the restrained power working her neck. "You are too beautiful a man in many ways to walk alone." She did not see the flash of pain and loneliness cross his features. Finally, he patted her shoulders and moved in front of her.

"I should be angry with you. Very angry."

Shrug.

"I should have known, when you brought me tea and ale for yourself!"

Willan held out his hand, pulling her up, and moved her towards the bed. As she stood, leaning tiredly against the post, he held out another of Gamling's tunics, a fresher one that still smelled like the Rider she desired. Aefre waited until the door whispered shut before changing and crawling in between the blankets of the now familiar bed.

***

"Rouse the Rohirrim!"

Gamling stormed through the barracks assigned to the Horse Lords by Aragorn. Their numbers had been severely cut, …omer himself shocked at the number of Rohirrim women counted among the living.

And the dead.

It was horrific enough to return the identification marks of fallen men, but someone, himself included, would be returning stolen marks to fathers, grandfathers.

***If I live***

Lorhilde, the blacksmith's daughter, was among those in the Houses of Healing. She was not wounded very badly and it had taken every ounce of self control Gamling had to keep from lashing out at her. She was her father's joy; Gamling remembered her well as a toddler - not so long ago - how the man had doted on her. She had been as bright as a copper coin, but now, her eyes were haunted, her thoughts, churning on the horrors of death and gore. Rather than give her the tongue-lashing she so deserved, Gamling ended up holding her, hugging her tightly as she cried; cried for the ones riding next to her who died, cried for her first love, who had not been found, cried for her father, how worried, how angry he would be; she wanted to go home.

***not quite yet, little one...***

For days, street urchins trailed him, taken in by his distinctive cloak. They wanted to see his horse, …omer's horse, anyone's horse; was it true the Rohirrim horses were descended from the Mearas and snorted fire and ate Orcs and disobedient children?

***Béma! What some parents tell their children to make them behave!***

Eomer had taken the mantle of kingship, taken the reins of leading the Rohirrim with a ferocity that the remaining Men of the Riddermark had been drawn to follow. …omer's temper was well-known and Gamling knew full well he was feeding from the energy of his anger and anguish. …omer would grieve quietly, away from his men, in the darkness of his chambers, but he would mourn in due time. Bur for now...

For now, there was another battle to fight, another battle to survive, to live through. Time, time for the Hobbit, so deep in Mordor. And if he survived...

***if I survive... if I should fall if I should fall if I should fall...***

... he would see Cynn's daughter home, to her father's embrace and he himself would squeeze Aefre tight until she squirmed.

Rouse the Rohirrim! Armor yourselves! We ride to the Black Gate; to Slag Hills. Ride! Forth Eorlingas!

***

On the thirteenth morning, Aefre was thrown from the bed.

The Earth was shaking.

***
tbc
***