***
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
***