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Chapter Text

She glanced about the dark, dank cave that was her home, or at least the closest thing she had to a home and only as long as her keepers decided to stay. The foul smelling broth of half rotten meat stewed in the pot over, a small acrid smoking fire. She brushed her matted hair from her dirty face and rocked quietly on her haunches, trying in vain to gain any kind of warmth into her cold body. The rags, remainders of a dress that clung to her form barely covered her modesty, but mud and dirt caked any skin that was bared through the tattered cloth.

She probed idly at the cooking food and wondered how much she would be given after 'they' had finished and had their fill. At the thought of them she looked over to the mouth of the cave where another small fire burned, hidden from prying eyes by jutting rock. Several of the Orcs had gathered around it, each wrapped in a crude, lice ridden blanket. They talked loudly in their own tongue, she did not understand most of what was said but over the many years she had guessed some of their language and had a small knowledge of basic words. She made out the word 'war' used many times in what they now spoke lengthily upon and 'leave', the rest was vague guesses and she paid little attention to them. She silently wondered if they planned to send her into another small village and use her as a scout for how many men were away in the fields, fewer men meant easy pickings for the Orcs.

The first time they had used her thus she had been young, but a child. She had tried to tell the village women, clung onto their skirts, pulled at their hands, but her appearance disgusted them and they had pushed her to the ground with words and gestures she did not understand. She knew if only she could speak she could have explained, made them understand, but she knew no words of this land and she could find no voice to speak with, only pleading whines and begging eyes and none took notice of such small things.

And so she had been shoved to the ground, sneered at and spat upon by children and adults alike, thinking her no more than an evil omen to be chased from their homes. She had cried then, wailed as they jeered her from the village, and she had wandered hopelessly back to where the Orcs awaited her. She signalled with her hands that no strong men remained and the Orcs had shoved her aside with fists and clubs, bruised her flesh and forced her screaming into a ball as they took their sport and rallied themselves for the slaughter ahead. And then they had left her, shaking and sobbing, their minds fully upon the easy plunder that awaited them.

Slowly she had risen, wincing from the many blows, and followed them, stemming the warm blood that dribbled from her nose and lip with the sleeve of her dress. Fire and screams met her ears as she had once more approached the small village, the dwellings burned in bright flames against the grey clouded sky making it almost seem as if the sun were setting upon the horizon. Bodies were strewn haphazardly upon the ground, motionless, dead and others were bloodily hacked down as she watched, their dying screams and gurgles ripped through her, made her want to cover her ears and curl back into a tight ball… And yet she felt a strange sense of guilty gratification, in her mind they were being punished for treating her so badly and this thought made all the carnage at least bearable to a child's eyes…

"What's it doing!" The gruff voice and a sharp painful kick to her ribs brought her forcefully out of her thoughts and with a pained grunt she fell onto her side. "It's burning the food!" The Orc that had delivered the kick barked as the others began to crowd around.

Another ambled up close to her and glanced into the pot, it's ugly distorted face clouded with rage, she looked on in growing terror as he reached down and grabbed her by a handful of her hair, yanking her up onto her knees as a searing pain radiated through her scalp. The Orc quickly grabbed her hand, she knew what was about to befall her and her eyes widened. She struggled as a surge of fear took over her mind, but he was stronger than her famished body and wasted muscles and he easily lowered her hand down as she shrieked, pulled and squirmed to no avail. She felt the pain burn through her, the hot liquid that the meat boiled in felt like her flesh had been plunged into the coldest lake, the pain unbearable, and she screamed, scratching hysterically at the Orc's arm with her free hand in a fit of frantic madness as the agony scorched to her very bones until he finally relented and let her pull it out.

She gave a hissed groan as she beheld her hand, the skin was red, swollen and strangely shiny looking, she held it to her chest trying to comfort herself but yelped as the fabric of her clothing brushed against it, sending the same shot of agony through her. She whimpered softly as they snarled laughter around her and helped themselves to the stew, being sure that tonight none was left for her.

She was allowed to retreat to a far corner of the cave where she sat crying and lamenting her burnt hand, large blisters had begun to appear, blooming in painful welts across her skin. She stared, transfixed by the pain, watching as her hand throbbed and made her feel as if her whole body swayed with the beat.

Hours passed, the Orcs retired to their beds, the fire died to glowing embers and shivering with shock she slowly lay down upon the cold rock ground, the ache of hunger mingling with the wretchedness that already lay heavily upon her. She closed her eyes but knew that the affliction would not let her rest this night, she wondered silently into the darkness if the pain would kill her this time. It always made her think it would, each time she was burnt or beaten into a wheezing submission… and she found her thoughts straying into the realms of death and where it would lead. She tried once again for the many hundredth time to remember her mother and father , her life before this… but found as she always did that their faces were blurred, unrecognizable and her home was nothing but the smell of grass and the warmth of sunshine, things that a small child remembered. She looked out towards the mouth of the cave, the crescent moon shone brightly and the sky was clear but for a few wisps of light cloud, allowing the stars to be seen… had she once been loved? Had a name? A purpose?

She could no longer remember...

She fell into a fitful stupor, the pain not allowing sleep to fully claim her; the sweat ran through her hair and down her body, leaving dirty streaks across her brow and cheeks. A small but forceful push to her shoulder awakened her fully; the throbbing in her hand was the first thing she became fully aware of. She groaned lowly and looked up into the face of one of the Orcs, he gave her a snarl of a grin showing his crooked, brown pointed teeth fully. She knew why he was there and gave out a small whimper in protest to his presence and was rewarded with a hard blow to her face.

She knew it was useless to fight against him, the first time one of them had taken her she had barely been out of childhood, she only knew it as another way to punish her, a way that seemed more wrong and hurtful than a lashing with a whip and yet she dared not fight them off, being aware that if she tried to struggle he would call another Orc to hold her down, restrain her and she would get a beating to go along with it. There were thankfully only two Orcs that treated her this way, the rest were happy dealing out beatings and tormenting her, she'd even noticed disgusted snarls twisting some of their lips as they watched one of the two take her, heard them mock the two Orcs afterwards for cavorting with man flesh, but still she was grateful that this 'punishment' happened rarely.

He nudged her roughly with his foot and she rolled onto her back and made sure that her hand was well out of harm's way, it still throbbed hard and she focused her mind on it, each pulse radiated through her, the pain was a better ideal than what was about to befall her. She cast her eyes from him and waited for the fetid weight to press down upon her chest, his clammy hands and fingers to linger over certain parts of her body, to roughly and violently probe, his stinking breath and tongue upon her face, her mouth…

"It doesn't know," she heard the Orc mumble, knowing that she still understood some of the common tongue to make out words but not sentences, and using the name they always used to describe her - 'It'. "Tomorrow it will be no more, leave you in a ditch for the crawlies to feed on, no use for you now the war is over." He gave a strangled sound that was meant to be a laugh and grinned wolfishly, knowing that she did not understand he was telling her of her fate. "Useless man flesh that it is anyway." He gave her a violent kick to the ribs, knocking the wind from her lungs, before crawling on top of her, tearing at the remainders of her ragged skirts, pulling them harshly over her hips, his hands wrapping around her thighs, forcing her legs apart…

She focused hard upon the pain of her hand and closed her eyes tightly awaiting the first wave of unpleasant sensation to hit her and fill her with a queasy sickness.

Her body shuddered with shock as shouts, roars and the sound of horse hoofs clambered around her ears, breaking the silence that had moments ago enveloped them. The noise was near deafening and she felt the Orc's weight leave her, heard him draw his sword and his footsteps retreat away from her, his own war cry sounding as metal clashed upon metal. The large cave seemed to vibrate with the pandemonium and she dared not open her eyes. She curled into a ball and tried to pull herself as close as she could to the wall, her heart thudded hard in her throat as she awaited the uproar to quiet and finally after what seemed an age, it did. Small throaty grunts sounded as the last few bodies fell about her with heavy thuds. She heard the sound of torches crackling gently in the breeze and voices, not the gruff, guttural sound of Orcs but smooth, soft voices that seemed to remind her bitterly of a place she had once known.

She heard the clanking of armour as they came closer and she retreated further against the wall, unable to keep whimpers of fear escaping her lips.

"An Orc hides back here!" A voice called towards the mouth of the cave. "A cowardly one by the looks of it." She heard more heavy footfalls.

"Stand cur!" A commanding older voice demanded. "Stand and fight!" The sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath echoed. "You and all yours shall pay for the villages you have pillaged over these many years!"

She covered her head with her hands and whimpered fervently and the cave fell into deadly silence, the only sound that permeated it were her weak cries. A sharp intake of breath reached her.

"It's no Orc!"

She heard mumbles of confusion from the other men that now filled the cave.

"It's a woman."

Chapter Text

The men stood as if made of stone as shock covered their expressions and they stared at the filthy creature huddled upon the floor, her rasping fearful gasps filling the silence.

Small high pitched noises of terror escaped her lips if any man moved. She scrabbled at the cave walls retreating further, her eyes wide with wild fear, as she took in each one of the men before her. She was both terrified and awed by them, none were dirty, they wore fine armour comprised of chainmail and a silver tree decorated each breast plate of brown leather, dark green cloaks hooded some faces. An older man seemed to be the leader, his black hair was slightly greying at the temples, his brow was noble and held a wisdom to it that held her gaze to his as he studied her thoughtfully. He rubbed his lightly bearded chin and glanced at his men.

"We cannot leave her here," he said quietly, his intention not to startle her.

"I will get her, Sir," a young man to his right said, regaining himself, and motioning with his hand for two other men to follow him. They approached her warily as she looked on, her body now physically shaking, he reached out a hand, palm towards her in a gesture of peace.

She glanced frantically about her, the whites of her eyes rolling with the fear of change, of the Orcs she had lived with for so many years lying dead and dismembered all about her, their black blood seeping into the dusty ground. He was but inches away from her and she had nowhere to run, nor the strength to fight. With a blurry quick movement his rough, leather-gloved hand wrapped about her wrist, skimming the blisters and burns of her hand. She shrieked as the pain radiated through her and violently lashed out, her dirty, long fingernails digging into the soft skin of his face until his cries mingled with hers and he roughly pulled himself away from her, breathing hard, his eyes full of hatred.

"She's lost her mind, Sir!" he said, his hand flying to his cheek, checking for injury and blood. "She's become one of the filthy creatures!"

She felt all eyes upon her, none more so than the older man's, as tears of pain and anguish began to stream unrelentingly down her face.

She saw through blurred vision that the older man was again studying her intently, slowly he shook his head. "No, Galan," he said, addressing the injured man," look how she cradles her hand?" He gestured lightly to her, "you hurt her."

"I hurt her!" Galan mumbled to the men behind him.

Slowly the older man approached and crouched before her. At first her instinct was again to get away, her breaths came in panicked gulps as he drew closer still. Softly he hushed her, said words in a soothing voice; until finally her breathing slowed, her mind registering that he was making no attempt to touch her. She glanced up at him, he wore a kindly expression and she furrowed her brow trying to understand it.

"Do you understand me?" he asked gently.

She stared blankly at him.

"Do you understand?" He said the words slowly and after a moment of confusion crossing her features she raised her good hand and made a sign with her thumb and index finger, a sign that she usually used to tell the Orcs there were very few men in a village. The man's face lightened into a small understanding smile.

"A little." He repeated her meaning. "She understands only a little."

He smiled again, this time reassuringly, before gesturing to himself. "Anborn." She flinched and relaxed at his movement before furrowing her brow once more and trying to understand his meaning. He gestured again to his chest, "Anborn," before slowly indicating to her.

She glanced at him, the fear still at the forefront of her gaze. She slowly reached down to a sandy part of the ground and wrote the only thing the Orcs had ever taught her, thinking that small cruel joke quite amusing, the endless hours spent repeating it making her forget her own name over the years. She spelt out "It" in the common tongue and then rested back against the wall. Slowly, hesitantly, she indicated to the writing and then to herself. The man glanced at the writing, his lined brow creasing as he read it and then looked back at her. With great care so as to not startle her, he held his hand out and told her silently with his eyes to take it.

She stared for a moment, knowing that she really had no choice; they could take her by force if they so wished and they were offering her a way to come quietly, hopefully without any beatings. Finally she slipped her hand into his and Anborn carefully helped her onto her feet, he asked for a blanket and wrapped the warm cloth about her shoulders, being careful to not disturb her injured hand. He then led her out into the slowly fading night. She was quickly put upon a horse before Anborn, her body quivered uncontrollably with fear as the beast whinnied and moved beneath her. When they began to ride she closed her eyes tightly, silently enduring the terror that threatened to engulf her with the unknown situation.

After some time had passed Anborn held up his hand in a gesture for the men to stop, the land before her eyes was now bathed in soft sunlight, a glistening large stream lined by trees stood nearby.

The younger man Galan rode to his side. "What troubles you?"

Anborn smiled a little and gestured to the girl before him. "The smell is making it hard to ride, she stinks of Orc."

Galan gave a low chuckle. "We have some rags for washing, a lump of bathing soap, and I can find a change of tunic." He pointed to the stream, "let her wash a little."

Anborn nodded and swung himself down from his mount, helping the girl down with him. The wash cloth and soap were quickly brought and Anborn guided her to the stream. He gestured as best he could that he wished her to clean herself. She took the cloth and soap and stared at them in confusion. Finally realizing that the poor starved creature had never actually washed, he unbuckled his chainmail and picked her up, her eyes flew wildly at what this new punishment was and how much it would hurt. Carefully he waded in and lowered her into the icy cold waters. She yelped and tried to scramble from him but he held her tightly about the waist until her struggles stilled. He fished the soap and cloth from the stream and, clasping her to his chest so she could not run, he soaped up the washrag and began to clean her face before working his way down to her arms, her form flinching at every touch. Slowly she began to understand his meaning and took the cloth from him and imitating his movements she began to scrub the years of dirt from her skin. The water around her quickly darkened and Anborn waded back onto the bank where his men already awaited him with a change of clothing. She quickly removed the remnants of her rags and unashamedly carried on with her washing in front of the men.

"Turn your heads men, she knows no better," Anborn said quickly and his men obeyed, tending to their saddle bags and minor injuries they had sustained.

Anborn lowered himself onto the bank, his eyes still upon the girl as she dipped in and out of the water, holding her injured hand in the air above her head. He pondered for a moment upon the unusual circumstances, knowing that the Orcs would have had some purpose for her and she was likely spoiled beyond thinking. Had he not seen an Orc lying near her… though he did not know it was a her… the poor thing would be ever outcast from wherever she went for no fault of her own. He studied her naked form, she was skinny, her skin sickeningly stretched taut across her ribs, her jutting hip bones a testament to her malnourished life. He could see the hollows of her cheekbones, the whole appearance giving her the look of a strange wasted ghost. He thought she had to be no younger than her eighteenth year and no longer than her twenty fifth, either age this meant she had suffered this way on the brink of death for who knew how many years, the Orcs had even tauntingly given her a name, "It". The thought of this girl having no name tugged at his heart and as he watched her clumsily bathing in the stream he thought of a name that would suit her at least for now.

When her splashing had subsided he gathered a blanket, the tunic and a leather belt and went to the bank. She waded over to him, no shame clouding her features as she revealed herself fully to his eyes. Even though she had washed, dirt clung to her and streaked her skin; a hot bath would be in order once they were safely home. He quickly wrapped the blanket about her and forced her to show him her injured hand, it was swollen with a weeping, angry burn. Underneath the red and blistered flesh he could see the mottled scars that told of past burns just like this one she now bore.

He gently guided her hand down, she resisted but he easily plunged her hand into the icy water. She gave a small cry and screwed her eyes tightly shut, he held her hand underwater for many minutes, the pain and shock lessening and becoming easier to bear. When he released her and she pulled herself from the water, her hand tingled with a coolness that seemed to ease some of the pain. She glanced at him, her face wearing a gullible look of ignorance to his actions, of him giving her any aid. He guided her onto the bank and after calling for his pack he bound her hand with a poultice of herbs and clean cloth before pulling the tunic over her head and tying a belt around her tiny waist. She studied the bandage, her free hand touching it lightly every few moments as if checking it were still there.

"Sir," Galan was stood a little way behind her, "are we to take her with us?" He paused. "I too pity the poor creature, but she seems simple, perhaps she thinks herself an Orc, she may be dangerous." He touched his cheek thinking back to the cave, his voice was slightly uncertain in tone at questioning his captain.

Anborn glanced at the girl beside him and then at Galan. "She knows she is no Orc, Galan." He sighed. "It is true she may be simple, but we cannot leave her, we ride for home." He gave a small smile. "It is only a day from here if we ride hard."

Galan gave a nod of understanding before returning back to his horse.

Anborn turned his attention back to the girl and studied her as her wide eyes never left his form, as if expecting him to suddenly turn upon her violently. He slowly drew in the mud the word "It". She looked at him questioningly, her mistrust shining clearly through her eyes. She watched as he drew a line through the word and shook his head at her.

He pointed to her, "Aedre," he paused and then gestured to her again, "your name is Aedre."

//

Aedre dozed sleepily in the saddle, her body too exhausted to feel intense fear and her mind too full to think upon anything but rest. Her head lolled against Anborn's chest, the smell of leather and horseflesh bringing her a strange kind of comfort. She became used to the rhythm as the horse galloped, used to the shouts of men about her and finally slumbered, her place secured by Anborn's arm about her waist. They stopped briefly to rest and eat and drink, she was offered bread and fresh water which she accepted greedily, eating all that was put before her, her instincts too used to devouring all she was given and soon she found that her stomach pained her. She stopped mid-bite, her hand clasping at her abdomen as strange aches pulled at her. Anborn gave her an understanding smile and took the large piece of bread she had been stuffing into her mouth from her hands.

"You eat too much and too quickly," he scolded gently, but he knew from her blank stare that she did not understand his words. He sighed and shook his head before looking back at her. He indicated with his hand the action of eating and then made a gesture of something large and then put his hand to his stomach, his face in mock pain, hoping that she would understand his meaning. Slowly she gave a small uncertain nod that she had understood and Anborn smiled.

The sunlight did not seem to last long as they continued their ride, twilight closed in around them and darkness crept up behind their hoof beats.

"Ride hard!" Anborn commanded back to his men. "We'll make the White City before night fully catches us."

Aedre could clearly see they headed towards a range of large mountains and through the gloom, rock jutted out at strange angles, almost looking rounded. As they came closer, she saw it was no rock face but a magnificent city combined of many layers reaching high up the mountainside and crowned by a tall spike that pointed straight towards the faded starlit sky, she stared at it in horrified wonder, her eyes having never beheld such a sight. They were soon upon the city and cries and groans of metal wheels sounded, startling her into a mild panic as the large, ornate green gates before the riders creaked open, their immense doors carved with likenesses of great looking men in armour, swords held in their hands and helmets adorning their heads.

They quickly entered, the horse's hoofs stepping from soft grassland onto hard white stone pathways, the noise echoed in the near deserted streets as they climbed slowly up and onwards. Small dwellings glowed welcomingly with candlelight either side of the path, merry singing and music radiated from some of the larger buildings where men and woman alike laughed and drank. Aedre's eyes widened in fearful wonder as the noises reached her ears and the sights her eyes.

Still further up they went until another small gateway came into sight, they entered the archway and veered to the left through a still smaller archway until a large stable met their eyes. Men gave out weary sighs of relief to be home and slipped tiredly down from their mounts, leading the beasts back to warm, comfortable stables where stable boys awaited with fresh water, food and brushes. The men themselves quickly gave short farewells to their companions, their minds on hot food, soft beds and the faces of their families. Anborn dismounted and helped Aedre down onto the ground, she glanced about her at the people that milled around them, guards in shining silver armour passed by talking quietly while women with baskets of food made trips to their loved ones still on duty, she shrank back finding she wished to be back on the horse rather than in this place.

Anborn wrapped his hand gently around her upper arm and with a small tug urged her into walking. They exited the stable area and ascended two flights of steep steps before coming to a large and rich looking dwelling. Anborn fumbled for a moment with a set of iron keys before finding the one he wanted and inserting it into the keyhole, the bolt clicked and the door swung easily open. Anborn guided her into the warmth of a grand hallway, Aedre's eyes widened once again at the new surrounding she found herself in. Within moments a flurry of excitement could be heard and two women came to greet them, they gave short bows.

"It's good you are home master, the mistress was beginning to fret," the older, stouter of the two said before her eyes drifted to Aedre, she glanced at Anborn but said nothing.

"Anborn?" An overly sweet voice carried down the hallway as another woman appeared, her garment was richer and more colourful than the other women.

"Mayda," Anborn said, walking forward with Aedre still in tow.

"The house was beginning to worry." Her voice was scolding in manner and she frowned as if displeased. "You have been gone for a month."

"My mission is over wife," Anborn said, ignoring her tone, "the Orcs that plagued the small villagers are no more."

She placed her hands on her hips. "It took the death of Denethor for the raids to finally be put to a stop," she huffed, "I heard the creatures had been pillaging and killing for nigh on nine years and that is known only as far as the City's sources reach, could be many more years."

Anborn nodded but did not reply, as if used to these rants; Mayda's eyes finally noticed the small skinny girl stood beside her husband, her eyes narrowed in displeasure.

"What is this you bring into our home?"

"A young girl found among the Orcs, a captive I think." He paused, looking down at the frightened creature at his side. "She seems not to be able to speak and understands little of what is spoken to her."

"Why not let one of the other men deal with her? You are captain." She frowned, "she's filthy" she added in disgust.

"Because I came across her and I feel she is my burden," Anborn said, replying to his wife's question.

Mayda took a step forward to gain a better look and Aedre shrank back.

"She is frightened and unused to people," he said as his wife studied the girl intently, her sharp birdish features seeming all the more potent in the candlelight.

"She's no more than a bag of bones, she may not last the night!" Mayda said, her long nose crinkling in dislike.

"All the same, she will have a bed, clothes and food," Anborn said, tugging once again at Aedre's arm and beginning to walk down the hall.

Mayda narrowed her eyes as her gaze followed her husband. "She can stay for now, but I'll have naught to do with her."

Chapter Text

The days seemed to pass in a blur before Aedre's eyes, she was cleaned properly by Anborn's servants, her hair cut and removed of the mats that clung to the ends and washed in sweet scented oils leaving shoulder length golden brown hair that felt soft to her touch. Her face and body were finally free from all dirt, revealing many different raised white scars across her back, stomach, arms and thighs; some thin and long caused by lashings, others wide and ragged from daggers, swords or fingernails. Both her hands bore the signs of burns, the skin was mottled and rough on both back and palm. Her cheeks bore long lighter scars that could be fully seen in daylight or strong candlelight, the effect was disquieting.

Anborn sat upon a wooden chair reading softly to her as he sometimes did, hoping that the sound of words would help her learn or remember. She seemed to like the sound of his voice and listened transfixed as he read aloud, whether she understood anything he said was another matter. His wife, Mayda, kept insisting that the girl was a simpleton and would never be able to speak or understand, but then his wife held low opinions of anyone she believed inferior to herself. Happily Mayda avoided anything to do with Aedre's keep and acted as if the girl did not even exist.

Aedre had shown herself to be a quick learner when it came to chores and she mastered tasks with relative ease, a throwback to living with the Orcs Anborn suspected - slowness, he felt sure, had not been tolerated. Her reactions to her new surroundings had been cautious, fearful, and ignorant of any kindness. It had taken Anborn two weeks to finally convince her to sleep in a soft bed instead of under it upon the cold floor and more lessons awaited to be learnt, how to use a spoon, dress herself, wash… It was as if she were a child within a woman's body and everything had to be taught carefully and patiently… but sometimes, if Anborn ever looked deeply into her eyes, he could have sworn he saw a small spark of intelligence she held concealed within, just waiting to be awakened.

He glanced up from the book, his voice trailing soothingly off at the last word. He became silent and turned his attention to her, she had been in his household just over two months and she was slowly but surely gaining weight from three large meals a day. Her hands, one still bandaged, lay leisurely in her lap and her dress was of simple dark blue woollen cloth. His eyes lingered a moment over her face, he could not deny that despite all the scars, or even perhaps because of them, she was beautiful; not to many eyes that was true but to his she was a beauty or more rightly could have been. Her eyes which now watched him in questioning innocence were of a soft brown that when the candlelight was upon them seemed to glow, her lips were full and rose coloured, her teeth once brown and stained were cleaned as best they could be and well placed, her face was heart shaped, her nose, small and slightly upturned at the tip.

He rose from his seat slowly, the book closing as he regained his feet. At his movement she flinched, though she had not been mistreated while with him, her nervous nature had not changed and she would rarely allow any of the women of the house to touch her. Anborn she tolerated if he wished to lead her somewhere, but any sudden movements resulted in wide eyes and the poor girl crouching into as small a ball as she could manage.

Anborn smiled at her wanly and she relaxed back into her sitting position, her hands once more finding her lap. He studied the girl one last time before leaving her chamber, closing the heavy door behind him and finding his pipe, he quickly lit it and puffed thoughtfully for a moment. Over the last few weeks he had become glaringly aware that she could no longer stay with him, he had always been a loyal and faithful man, his mind always upon duty and the right path but this girl distracted him, for what reason he could not understand. He had found himself longing to spend time with her, longing to teach her and watch her grow and develop her own mannerisms. It had seemed harmless at first, a kind man's dream of helping a wretched creature but now he imagined her welcoming him into her bed late in the depths of night, thought of touching her skin when it was his wife he caressed, fantasized that the first word she would utter would be his name in the throes of a passionate entanglement… No, she could not stay, nor did he want her to stay in Minas Tirith if he could find a way, he wanted no temptation to visit her or see her at his whim.

A loud knock upon the door sounded, shaking him from his disturbing thoughts, one of his serving women bustled past him, opening the door to an unexpected but welcome guest.

"My Lord Faramir!" Anborn boomed at the sight of the striking looking man that was led into his house. He placed a hand upon the younger man's shoulder in a gesture of friendship.

"Anborn my friend," Faramir said warmly, brushing his light red hair from his eyes. "It is good to see you and that you are unharmed after your hunt for the Orcs."

"Thank you my Lord, I wanted to await your return to the White City before discussing the mission in full, you may now be the Prince of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor, but you shall always be my Captain."

Faramir smiled warmly. "And you shall always be a good friend." The two men laughed and took seats beside the fire.

"Tell me of the Orcs?" Faramir asked, gladly taking the glass of Mead his host offered.

"There were no more than twenty of them, deserters most likely, though from where I cannot say." He paused, taking a small puff upon his pipe. "We tracked them for many weeks, always arriving too late to corner them, they moved fast, hard and in circles, hiding out in remote caves, leaving few if any tracks."

Faramir nodded. "It has long since been rumoured that such bands have terrorized Gondor and the borders of Rohan, finally they have been stopped." He glanced at the fire. "Few of the filthy brood remain in man's realm since the end of the war, perhaps one day we shall drive them from our lands for good."

Anborn smiled weakly. "Perhaps my Lord we shall do just that." He paused again. "It saddens me to think that many villages and lives could have been saved if only your father had reacted to his people's cries, the cost of lives will never be fully known, the years are too many."

Faramir's eyes became downcast, his look slightly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry my Lord," Anborn said quickly, "I spoke too harshly, forgive me."

"No, Anborn, I know your words to be the truth, you are an honest man and I know my father's failings sit heavily upon Gondor's shoulders… better than anyone." Faramir glanced at the fire, his eyes glazing over.

"Your father did not always have his sight veiled by dark clouds, once he was a great man, it is best to linger upon such fairer thoughts."

Faramir nodded, becoming silent before seeming to shake himself out of the depths of a best forgotten memory.

"I have heard rumour that you found a woman among them, wild and Orcish they say." Faramir's eyes glinted with curiosity.

Anborn gave a gruff laugh. "You have not been in the city more than a day and rumours already whisper in your ear." He puffed once again on his pipe before relenting to Faramir's inquiring expression. "Yes, we came across a captive, a young woman… It appears she has lived with the Orcs most of her life, they starved and beat her but she seems strong and still yet gains in strength." He hesitated, "I hear that you will again ride from Minas Tirith to visit your wife's brother, Éomer King, in Edoras?"

Faramir furrowed his brow in question. "Yes, I will be here for no more than a week, Lady Éowyn wanted to ride but she is too full with our child that it would not be wise." He paused, studying the older man's features. "I know you too well Anborn, something troubles you."

Anborn's gaze flicked to the door that led to Aedre, before looking back at Faramir. "I would ask of you a great favour."

"If it is in my power you shall have it." Faramir placed his drink to one side, committing his full attention upon his friend.

"I would ask that you take the woman, Aedre is her name, with you to Rohan…" He hesitated, trying to find an explanation for such a request. "H-here, the rumours prevent her from having any kind of life; perhaps in Edoras she will find some peace among the kind and welcoming people." His stuttered words fell short of any conviction. "Perhaps you can present her as a gift from myself to Éomer king?"

Faramir eyed him suspiciously. "Is she too wild for you to handle? I cannot lay such a burden at my brother's feet, his reign is already full of rebuilding and hunger, I would not give him cause for more troubles."

"No, she is timid, shy and afraid, but not wild; she will do as she is bidden if she is shown what she is to do." He again glanced at the door. "She is a hard worker and will serve his house well… I, I just want her to be placed somewhere hunger and abuse will not touch her again, in a king's hall seems safest."

Faramir still eyed him warily. "Show her to me and I shall decide."

Anborn rose from his seat and led Faramir to the bolted wooden door; he opened it carefully, revealing the small room beyond where Aedre still sat quietly upon the bed. She started as the door opened, her eyes once more becoming wide with fear but she sensed no direct threat, so did not move from her place, her gaze taking in the new man that stood beside Anborn as if weighing the scales inside her mind to see if he could become a threat.

Faramir let his eyes take in the bandaged hand, the light scars upon her face and his heart felt pity. She may once have been a great lady if life had taken her down another path, beauty lay just out of reach behind all the flaws and years of ill treatment, yet seeing the scrawny thing sat timidly watching them he understood from his friend's careless looks that his reason for wanting her from his dwelling had little to do with her wellbeing.

Finally Faramir nodded. "I shall take her with me, but she seems too fearful of others for the time being, ride with us to comfort her."

Anborn smiled lightly, the weight of her burden lifting from him.

The week quickly passed and they began to ride the long journey towards Rohan and Edoras. The ride was hard and Aedre found the best way to deal with such things was to sleep all she could. Nestled against Anborn's broad chest she sometimes felt safe, a strange and contented feeling that she wished would not leave her. The long time she had spent by Anborn not once had he raised his voice or struck her, she had begun to feel a sense of warmness that she could not remember feeling before, but it made her want his presence, wish that she could depart her thoughts to him but her voice could not be found and so she could tell him nothing of how grateful she felt.

It was many long days of riding by day and camping by night until the party of fifteen men and one woman had their first look at Edoras. The city was enclosed by tall wooden fencing; thatched roofed dwellings led up a high rocky hill, a large hall at the very peak.

By nightfall Anborn and Faramir had entered the gates of the city and made their way up to the great hall, their men following in tow. They quickly stabled their horses and Anborn helped a sleepy Aedre from the saddle, she rubbed her eyes dispelling some of the journey's tiredness and looked at the large building before them. Steps led up to a great wide stone platform where archways of beautifully carved wooden pillars decorated in knotted gold leaf led the way to the grand doors. In the dim light of torches held in brackets, the full sense of the elaborately carved entrance featuring reliefs of horses was displayed in all its awe-inspiring glory. Above this Aedre could make out an immense thatched roof, the sight instantly reminding her of fires burning brightly around her as screams filled the air. She had always been awed by just how fast such homes burnt and her entertainment, as the witness of such rampages the Orcs had taken her on, had been to watch the flames licking and devouring, their dance almost making them seem like hungry creatures…

"Come Aedre." Anborn's voice brought her back to the present and he began to lead her up the stone stairs until they reached the terrace and great wooden doors. Many men stood guard along the platform, elite warriors dressed in fine armour, long green woollen capes and helms with the visors cut away around the eyes to aid the wearer's sight, a mane of horse hair flowed from a crest that crowned the top of the helms. Each man held a long spear and a circular shield decorated with a golden symbol of the sun. Two more men, similarly dressed, stood either side of the doors. At the sight of Faramir they bowed lowly and parted the doors for him, inside a tall, broad man with long fair hair and a bushy beard awaited to greet them, his smile warm and welcoming.

"Welcome to Meduseld Lord Faramir, we saw your approach and hope your journey was not too troublesome, the King eagerly awaits news of his sister."

"I am eager to see him also Gamling." Faramir smiled and Gamling gestured for the party to follow him into the great hall.

The hall was crowded at the sides with long wooden tables, the walls covered in rich, colourful tapestries depicting battles, fallen kings and great horses. Large carved pillars mirrored the ones without, the designs painted in golden relief, the overall effect was one of reverent beauty.

Gamling left the entourage of men and strode with certain steps up to small stairs leading to a large platform crowned with a stunning carved throne draped in the finest cloths and furs. Sat upon this was a man dressed in great finery, a heavily gold thread embroidered high necked tunic peeked out from underneath soft rust coloured leather armour, decorated with intricate knots of gold. About his shoulders lay a heavy dark green cloak patterned at the hems in much the same way as the tunic. He glanced up unseeingly as the party approached, his features becoming visible in the light of the many torches. His hair was light golden in colour, reminding Aedre of the shade of thatched roofs lit in the warm sunlight; it cascaded in gentle waves to his shoulders. A beard shadowed his jaw line and upper lip, neatly trimmed and dark flaxen. His complexion was florid, wind and sun beaten; his brow was strong and knitted together in what appeared to be a permanent frown, his dark eyes troubled. Gracing his forehead sat a golden circlet, with symbols and patterns embossed into the metal, crowned at the front with an engraved horse's head.

"Éomer!" Faramir greeted in the manner of greeting a loved family member.

Éomer looked up from his brooding, his brow relaxing, though not fully, at the sight of the men before him. "Faramir!" He gave a grin and stood from his throne. The two men met upon the steps and clasped each other's forearms in greeting. "How fares my sister? I am eager for news."

"Éowyn fares fine and her health could not be better, within the next two months you shall have a child to call you Uncle."

Éomer grinned more broadly at the news. "Come, we will retire to my chamber and drink to her health, you can tell me all there is to tell."

Faramir glanced back at his men. "Wait, one of my men bears a gift for your house."

Anborn stepped forward and Éomer nodded in recognition. "Anborn, it has been a while since we have met."

"Yes, Éomer King, a good while."

"You come bearing a gift for my house, I am glad of any gift you will give."

Anborn shifted for a moment before moving silently to one side to reveal Aedre. "A serving girl for your table, she is nervous and needs a careful, understanding hand but I feel she will serve you well for many years."

Éomer glanced over the thin looking girl that stood before him, her head bowed, hair hiding her face; almost as if she did not care she was in the presence of a king. He huffed a small laugh at the thought, it may be refreshing to have a serving girl who would not fawn and stare lusty eyed at him.

"I thank you for the gift Anborn," Éomer said distractedly, giving a small incline of his head in gesture to his words before turning his attention back to Faramir and the news he had brought with him. The two men slowly walked from the hall deep in conversation. The other men of the company quickly found seats at one of the long tables and waited to be served food and drink.

"Show her to the kitchens, the women there will show you where she can sleep," Gamling said to Anborn, taking his own seat at the table.

Anborn wrapped his hand about Aedre's wrist and quickly led her through wooden doors and narrow passageways to the hot and humid kitchens. A plump woman stood leisurely besides a cooking pot stirring the contents, she turned at the sound of footsteps and regarded the man of Gondor and the young girl.

"I have been told to find this girl quarters and instructed to tell you to inform the other serving women to treat her kindly, she is timid and easily frightened, treat her well," he warned as the woman wiped her hands upon her apron.

"Yes my Lord, please follow me." She led them through more narrow passageways until they came to a many door lined corridor.

"We have a few free rooms at the end, they are ill-kept and musty but well enough to live in, she will find clean bedding and clothing in the small cupboard in any of them, left behind by others that decided not to stay." She gave a small curtsey before leaving them alone.

Anborn led Aedre to the nearest free room and opened the door, the space beyond was dark and the surfaces covered in layers of dust. He lit a small tallow candle, took up a rag and gave any affected areas a small dusting, renewed the bedding in the small wooden cot for clean sheets and dug out a serving maid's garments, lying them neatly over a chair before turning to look at Aedre who still stood in the same spot he had left her, watching him intently.

"This is your new home," he said lowly, his hand gesturing to the room.

Aedre furrowed her brow not understanding the words he spoke fully, but knowing from his expression and the tone of his voice that he was leaving her here. Slowly and with great hesitation she walked up to him, her hand reached out and timidly slid into his, her eyes found his gaze and silently she pleaded through them for him not to leave her.

He patted her shoulder tenderly, the thought that he could whisk her from this place, that a new life could be made for both of them flashed through his mind. Perhaps with time she could even learn to know what love was and love him… He shook himself inwardly, he was old enough to be her father, maybe even her grandfather and he had duties to his city, to his wife and he could not leave them however much he secretly wished to. He glanced at her again, seeing the glint of fear still hiding behind her brown eyes, she was still afraid of him, she only did this sweet gesture because he was all she knew.

He turned, letting her hand slip from his as he made his way towards the door, leaving her behind. Aedre gave a low whimper and came tentatively after him, her hand reaching out and grabbing at his armour clad arm. He turned once again and saw the fear within her eyes mingled with panic. Finally, after a moment, the panic of being left behind seemed to win over the nervousness and she clung heatedly to his middle. Anborn sucked in a breath through his teeth as her head pressed against his chest.

"No," he said finally, knowing she at least understood this word. "No, let go." He pried her hands from him and glanced down at her, her face was upturned to his, her eyes searching his face, looking for some clue, explanation as to why this was happening. Her sweet rose lips parted as if she wished to speak but a sigh was all that escaped. For a crazed moment Anborn could not control his normally steadfast manner, his head dipped, his lips pressing warmly against her brow. At the kiss Aedre pulled back, the fear once again at the forefront of her expression. She backed away from him a few steps, her look telling him she was trying to understand but before she could do anything more, Anborn turned without another word and left her alone, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

The dark hours passed by slowly in the modest windowless room and finally Aedre lay down upon her small cot, her thoughts trying to understand why she was here and what would become of her. She had only just begun to realize that the world of men was not the same as that of Orcs, it seemed she was not beaten for no reason, or even when she did something wrong, still this was a hard fact to become used to. The long ride of the day and the shock of losing the only person she had come close to trusting left her exhausted and sleep quickly claimed her.

She awoke many hours later to a gentle but persistent shaking of her shoulder, for a moment she thought that one of the Orcs had come for her in the darkness and she opened her eyes fully expecting to see his scabbed face and bloodshot eyes staring at her. Instead a kindly plump face swam into her vision, Aedre gave a soft cry of surprise and quickly tried to move away, the woman hushed her and spoke words she did not fully understand: only random words made any sense to Aedre's ears and none seemed to form a full sentence but the older woman's voice was soothing and non-threatening and finally Aedre let the woman help her out of bed. She was aided in dressing in a long cream woollen under dress that was covered with a dark green jumper tunic which laced at the sides, the woman then bound her hair into a braid and secured it carefully. All the while she talked calmly and tenderly, Aedre felt on edge but in the same moment eased by the gentle mannerisms.

She was led into the lazy morning kitchens and quickly put to work. The same woman showed her how to peel vegetables, prepare meat and grind herbs. Aedre found that no one bothered her despite the area being well tended by kitchen hands and the clamour and bustle soon became background noise to her own thoughts, her ease growing as no one seemed to take notice of her. Her work was quite an easy task and the food smelled wonderful as it cooked, she watched as other women tasted the meats that basted or nibbled upon a freshly cooked vegetable, but she dared not, tampering with food was the worst offense to any Orc and the embedded lessons would not leave her. She was given cheese, fresh warm bread and an apple to eat half way through the day before the evening meal was started for the people who dwelled within the Golden Hall.

The following days passed in much the same manner, the older woman staying beside her, soothing Aedre if she became panicked, or the kitchens busy. Within a few weeks Aedre was able to sit upon her stool and do her work without much thought or fear towards any of the other workers, she laboured well and did all she was instructed and for this she was given space and understanding.

Soon, she herself was sent out to serve the food to the residents, the great hall was near empty, only a few men sat upon the tables but as her eyes grazed over them she only recognized the man called Faramir, Anborn it seemed had either departed or was avoiding her. She served roasted meats to each table, the last stood at the head of the hall, where the regal, brooding man now sat deep in talk with a finely robed older man who sat beside him. Aedre quickly placed the food down, repeating the action she had done at each table to make the task quick and less unnerving. She turned and with her head bent, her gaze fixed upon the ground she walked across and made her way back to the kitchens.

//

Éomer watched the girl serve the food, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, he was glad he had suggested she help serve his meal, to not have to deal with fawning serving girls was a blessing, he turned quickly back to the conversation, his mind instantly forgetting her.

//

The weeks passed, Faramir and his band of men departed for Gondor once more. Winter turned slowly and thankfully to spring, fresh food began to become more widely available and salted meats not the staple diet. The sun shone more regularly upon the windswept plains of Rohan and Éomer found more days, more excuses, to ride for longer periods, to take small parties of men hunting for Orcs or Wildmen. But now the spring rains had begun and he was caged inside his Golden Hall once again, his brow folded back into a brooding frown as the sound of rain echoed through the wall reminding him sullenly of how much he felt suffocated by this throne and the tight crown that pinched at his skin. He settled back into the furs and stared down the hall, the bitterness welling within him. He was a warrior, had been raised as such, he was not made to sit upon a throne and govern a kingdom, that was his uncle's, his cousin's province, even his sister would be a better ruler than he, he felt restless and ill at ease with his newly found regal position.

He watched quietly as the serving women cleaned the tables, swept the floor and generally made themselves useful. They were all buxom and pretty, Rohan women with strong wills and unashamed eyes. They glanced at him with sly smiles, smiles that he knew all too well from his own mind and his men's, that signified they were wondering what it was like to bed him. Only for them beauty and bosoms were not forefront, power lingered heatedly upon their minds and in their fantasies. His gaze drifted to the skinny wretch of a girl that had come from Gondor, his brow furrowed further as he watched her carefully gathering used plates, cleaning tables. Not once did her eyes flick to his position, not once did she side-track from her work. He lightly stroked his chin as the words of Faramir came back to him, he had thought his brother exaggerating in his tale but still it would not leave him, a story of a woman raised brutally by Orcs, unable to speak, taken at such a tender age that she had forgotten people, kindness… He wondered if she acted like an Orc in private and then smirked at his own childish thoughts. He had given his word to Faramir that he would not let it be known of her origins, giving her a chance of a normal life and so he was the only man in Rohan that knew the secret; it somehow made the days seem less tedious to have such a curious creature to ponder upon - at least until the rains abated.

//

The happy news of the birth of Éowyn and Faramir's child reached the Golden Hall and there were great feasts held in Edoras in celebration. The child was male and had been named Elboron. Éomer became eager to leave and visit his sister, hold the dear new kin in his arms and leave the regal duties he was bound to for a small time.

Finally the nobles and advisers of Edoras were prepared to let him have his visit and begrudgingly sent him on his way with warnings that Éomer King could not leave the city for long, he was needed and his loyalties lay with his people, not Gondor. Éomer rolled his eyes as he mounted his horse Firefoot and paid them little heed as his men took to their saddles about him.

"I shall not be absent for long," he soothed gruffly, wishing the old men would leave him in peace to do as he wished, how his uncle had put up with their fussing and fretting he could not fathom, they were worse than nagging women.

"Perhaps while there, you could call upon Prince Imrahil and his daughter?" One of them put in.

Éomer let out a heavy sigh; still they plagued him with suggestions upon whom he should marry. "My sister and her child are my main concern," he replied tactfully, his true feelings wishing him to say much more and in a less delicate way.

The man gave a short bow and he took a few steps backward as Firefoot pawed the ground wishing to be away, galloping across the plains.

Without another word Éomer gently pushed into his horse's side and the beast sprang into motion, taking him from Edoras, away from the men and onto the sprawling plains that spread wide and wild before him, at least for a for a short while he could pretend he was free.

//

Through the king's absence the Golden Hall became quiet, the duties, feasts and cooking less, and Aedre found that she had much personal time upon her hands, time that she had no idea how to use, she had never had such a thing before. The plump older woman who had aided her over the passing weeks seemed to take a shine to Aedre and visited her often, stemming the unease and fear she felt around people or at the very least around women. Aedre had learnt that her name was Sunniva; she was in the late fifties of her years, her face round, flushed and kindly with light red hair the colour of a faint sun setting. Over the coming weeks Sunniva began to teach Aedre the words of the common tongue using her hands, objects and crude charcoal drawings to express her point and meaning. Although the kindly woman could not tempt the lean girl to actually talk, slowly they began to understand each other and to hold stunted conversations that were almost completely one sided. Still, Aedre nodded excitedly at each thing she understood, feeling a sense of freedom and lightness in being able to understand what was being said to her.

The fatty, smoking tallow candles burned dimly as Sunniva talked over the day's happenings, gossip and other goings on of the great hall.

"I often wonder," she continued, her train of thought about one of the other serving girls, "if she shall ever find a husband, the way she looks at our Lord, Éomer King is shameful, even the other girl's wandering eyes don't stare so boldly." She paused, "and the nobles fret so that Éomer King is still away, it will be three months by the end of this week." Sunniva frowned. "Still, he's always been the same." She huffed and then gave a kindly smile as she noticed Aedre listening raptly; trying to understand what was being spoken. "You're such a tiny thing," she commented, "yet you eat so much, I wonder if you'll ever be naught but skin and bone." Sunniva softly smiled at Aedre. "I know there's a story behind your eyes Aedre, wish I knew it." Her bright blue eyes lingered over Aedre's scarred face before she inwardly shook herself. "And so do half the Golden Hall." She gave a low chuckle before rising from her seat. "Shall we go and eat? There should be some leftovers in the kitchen."

Aedre understood the words well enough and nodded gladly. They made their way down the dark passageway to the still humid kitchens and Sunniva dipped two crude wooden bowls into a lukewarm stew and passed one to Aedre, they seated themselves and began to eat. Aedre chewed slowly, having learnt all too well that there was plenty of food here and she was freely given it whenever she hungered.

Before they had finished their food a great commotion reached their hearing and Sunniva jumped from her seat, her brow furrowing in question. "Aedre!" she said, gesturing for the younger girl to rise.

Aedre rose to her side and followed obediently as Sunniva led the way towards the sound, the great hall seemed to be in chaos as riders, nobles and guards flooded in, their boots tracking in clumps of mud across the newly swept floor. Aedre stayed hidden a little behind Sunniva, the feeling of the older woman's closeness lending a barrier to all of the noise. She stared at the newly mudded floor in melancholy, knowing that she would once again have to clean it and this would interrupt her time learning and listening.

She heard Sunniva give out a gasp of shock and looked up to see what had startled her so, the man she called Éomer King was being half dragged, half carried into the hall, his skin sweat covered, dirt and encrusted blood clinging to his face and hair. The men about them shouted in panic as Éomer tried vainly to regain his footing and free himself from 'helping' hands.

"We were attacked by Orcs!" One of the men trying to still carry him called to the worried onlookers.

"I am fine, free me you fools!" Éomer boomed, his anger startling for one who looked to be quite badly injured. "It is but a flesh wound, no more."

As he spoke servants crowded into the room with astonished gasps and some of the women even gave low shrieks at their king's appearance.

"You there, women!" A finely dressed man holding a roll of parchment gestured to a group of young serving girls clustered together. "Come help your king to his chambers."

The girls started forward all too eagerly, their eyes glinted with a hungry self satisfaction.

"No," Éomer said, his gruffness not subsiding, "I do not wish to be tended by such cloying fingers." His gaze flicked to Sunniva who looked on in concern, and then Aedre whose eyes were firmly upon the mud stained floor, her brow furrowed. "Let the oldest and least appealing take me into their care." Eyes widened at their king's brutal and cruel words but none dared to speak given his current ill temper. "Their hands are less likely to wander." He gave a faltering step, his body lunging forward, his men quickly caught him, but Éomer's eyes were now closed, his body limp in their grasp.

"He's fevered!" Sunniva said in a breathless whisper.

The men again began to half carry Éomer, the guards gesturing for the two women the king had wished to tend him to follow them. Sunniva wrapped a hand around Aedre's wrist and they followed the entourage to the king's own chambers. Éomer was laid upon his bed and both women were given instructions to undress him and make him comfortable, tend his wounds and clean his body until the king's personal healer could be summoned.

Sunniva quickly showed Aedre what she wished her to do and the two women set about removing his armour.

Unbuckling armour was something Aedre was quite familiar with; she had done similar chores for the Orcs after their battles, helped them from their battle stained gear, and cleaned their wounds… The only striking differences was that no one was lashing at her heels to hurry her task and this man did not smell anywhere near as bad as a battle returned Orc.

Sunniva carefully removed his steel and leather vambraces that covered his forearms and then the pauldrons at his shoulders, while Aedre unbuckled the greaves that protected his lower legs and with some effort pulled off the heavy, mud encrusted leather boots beneath. Sunniva removed his beautifully engraved rust coloured leather and steel cuirass, Aedre helping her with lifting the man for ease of removal. Aedre did not think she had ever seen such fine or abundant armour, beneath the outer armour were several more layers that had to be carefully shed; a long mail shirt, a finely made long skirt of leaf mail belted at his waist beneath which was a lighter mail skirt. As Aedre took the garments from Sunniva and laid them carefully over a chair she wondered how anyone could stand, let alone wield a sword under such weight. Under all his protection was a leather tunic and woollen hose.

Aedre passed Sunniva a warm fur blanket at the older woman's command and watched as it was laid over him, unable to stop the fascination that his bare body beheld for her. Sunniva then fetched a jug of water and a clean rag used for the king's daily washing and handed it to Aedre giving her silent instructions to tend to the man, she then left the room in order to fetch clean, hot water and cloths.

Aedre hesitated a moment before wiping the streaks of sweat and dirt from his brow. As she worked his lips began to move, mumbling softly until finally his eyes fluttered open. He glanced about him, his dark brow frowning in confusion at his surroundings before finally his gaze focused upon Aedre; he blinked as if his eyes were clouded.

Aedre slowly removed her hand, feeling a strange pride that she did not give in to her first instinct to move back in fear, as she would have done only a few months before, the fear was still hardened and heavy within her breast but she knew she could control it up to a point.

The man gave a low groan and wiped his hand across his eyes. "Where am I?" He asked, his voice not as thick as it had been in the great hall.

Aedre flinched at the sound and movement but remained still as his eyes took in the familiar items and feel of his own room. She thought she had understood him well enough but still her nervousness prevented her from replying in any form.

"Home…" he murmured, "the Orcs..." His brows knitted together, "an ambush." He gritted his teeth as anger swelled within his heart, before he noticed fully the young girl stood beside his bed. He recognized her as the Orc girl and eyed her a little wearily. "Has my healer been called for?" He pulled up the furs, not waiting for her to answer, and carefully touched the wound upon his inside thigh, giving a low hiss as the pain spread from it at the brush of his fingers.

He looked back at the girl, noticing she hadn't answered and his eyes clouded with annoyance before the realization that she could not speak came back to him.

"Can you even understand me?" Éomer asked finally, his eyes bearing a little glint of mocking light.

Aedre nodded uncertainly and Éomer's brow rose in surprise. "So you can understand." He stroked his chin for a moment, this situation taking his mind from the pain momentarily. "Have you always been able to understand?"

The girl furrowed her brow in confusion, her expression clearly saying she did not understand his last words.

"No, my Lord, she has only just begun to learn."

Éomer turned at the sound of the voice and smiled warmly. "Sunniva, it is always you that I find tending me in my times of injury."

Sunniva laughed. "You were no different as a child, never admitting how much cuts or grazes pained you," she mockingly chided. "Why, when you were but seven you broke your arm and none of us knew for the entire day!"

Éomer laughed softly. Sunniva placed a steaming bowl of water scattered with herbs down upon a table nearby. "Let me see where you are hurt?" She said motheringly, and Éomer pulled the furs back revealing the nasty, jagged wound that seeped ruby blood down his leg.

"It is not so bad," he joked, with a small smile forming upon his lips.

Sunniva placed a cloth into the water and set about cleaning around the gash, giving him a reproachful look as she did. She signalled to her side for Aedre to come forward which the young girl did, all but tentatively, and Sunniva guided Aedre's hands into holding the cloth over the wound, stemming some of the flow as she searched a moment for bandages. At the pressure Éomer gave a grunt of pain and Aedre flinched.

Éomer studied her a moment as she relaxed, her eyes drifting back to the wound, checking that she had it fully covered.

"She is a strange creature," he said as much to himself as to Sunniva. "She does not recoil from a bloody cut, but from me she shrinks."

Sunniva glanced up, her gaze drifting to Aedre. "Yes, she is a strange creature," she agreed, "but good and obedient." She paused a moment, gathering her bandages. "Her nervous nature makes her almost endearing."

Éomer smiled. "You have too much motherly devotion in you to turn away such a pitiful thing."

Sunniva returned the smile. "Aye there is that, such a shame too." She moved Aedre's hand and began to mop up the remaining blood before beginning to bandage his leg.

"What is a shame?" Éomer said, wincing.

"She's scarred beyond all telling, you can't see properly of course, not in this dim light, but her face is a mass of them and her body riddled with deep scars from cuts and who knows what else, must have led a hard life wherever she hails from."

Éomer's eyes went instinctively to the young girls face; Sunniva was right - in the dim light of the Golden Hall, her face almost appeared unmarred, only peaked and sunken, until the candlelight caught her flesh just so and the long light pink scars shone. He stared transfixed, never had he seen a woman so badly scarred, so badly hurt… Her eyes connected with his for a moment and in that small flash he saw something beyond scarred flesh, a beauty that lay hidden beneath it all, but it was fleeting and lasted all but a few seconds, he turned his gaze away.

Sunniva eyed him a moment. "I suppose you will not tell me of her past." She gave a knowing nod towards the girl who still lurked uncertainly behind her.

Éomer smiled. "I don't know what you mean Sunniva," he teased.

"Keep your secret then," Sunniva said as if talking to a small boy.

"What is she called?"

"Her name is Aedre, if it's her true name or not I cannot say." She paused, putting the finishing touches to her makeshift bandage. "There, that should be enough until the healer arrives, but it will need to be closed."

Chapter Text

Aedre often accompanied Sunniva to the King's bedside, tending his freshly stitched wound, changing bandages and providing him with company as he regained his strength. The King's chambers were one of the very few rooms in the Golden Hall that had a large window and it was leant against this, the soft late spring wind blowing his hair, that Aedre found him upon bringing his mid day meal. His eyes were closed, enjoying the feel of warm sunlight upon his skin, his loose rough, cotton shirt half buttoned as she set a large tray containing a nutritious broth upon a nearby stool.

At the sound of this Éomer turned and glanced at her, without his kingly fashion or bundled in furs his form could be fully seen. Tall, at least a head over herself and broad in the chest and shoulders, his muscles well defined from many battles and scars graced different parts of his body, each one testament to his labours and the love he bore for his land. He continued to stare at her quizzically until finally he motioned for her to come to him.
Head bent she came nervously to his side as the frown he so often sported reappeared on his face and slight annoyance clouded his eyes.

"I, unlike Sunniva, do not find your nervous ways endearing," he chided, glancing at the girl that now stood as far away from him as she could manage without disobeying his order. "Yet you cause me to be curious, your tale is quite unusual." His face softened as he glanced back at the view, the sun once again lighting his features, glinting golden across his long hair. "I often find myself wondering what your life was like…" He turned back to her, his gaze intense. "With the Orcs…" He sighed as she watched him, he wondered if she understood any of what he said. "How you survived so long." He glanced at her once again his eyes lingering over her scarred face.

Sensing his gaze, her hand rose to her cheek, her finger following one of the small light pink lines, a shame clouding her eyes for a moment, but the expression only lasted for an instant before her hand dropped and her gaze lowered.

"I wonder how you came by such scars…" He paused, indicating to her face. Her eyes flicked to his, understanding flashing through them. Slowly she raised her fingers to her face and made a gesture as if nails being dragged through skin. Éomer's eyes widened slightly, she had understood his question and was giving him an answer, an all but gruesome one.

"I see…" he said, uncertain as to just how he should reply to such an unexpected answer. As she lowered her hands, his gaze caught sight of the burnt skin; slowly he reached out, taking her hand in his, fascinated by the injury. At his touch she flinched, her position becoming stiff, signalling that she wished to pull back yet she did not, she resisted the urge although it was obvious that this was a hard task.

He studied her for a moment. "You wish to pull away, why do you not?"

The girl's eyes flicked to the doorway and Éomer understood that Sunniva had been teaching of her duties to her betters, to her king, that it was not suitable to disobey or refuse what he wished.

"Sunniva?" he asked.

Aedre nodded and Éomer returned his gaze back to her small thin hand. The skin was roughly raised and mottled, he turned it to study the palm, his fingers sliding over her flesh, but this action seemed to be more than the young girl could take and as slowly as she could manage she pulled her hand from him and placed it behind her back.

"Those were bad burns," he commented, gesturing to her hidden hand. The girl looked at him with a restlessness that indicated that she wished to be free of his presence, her gaze shifted towards the door.

Éomer gave a dry laugh. "I think," he began, his mood feeling quite light, "you are the only woman, nay, the only person in Edoras that does not wish for my attention." He studied her as she looked blankly at him, awaiting his gesture of a hand that meant she could leave. "And for that I wish for your company, to not have to be King Éomer is quite refreshing." He smiled but the girl's expression did not change. Finally he relented and gave her the small signal she had been yearning for. Without another glance at him Aedre quickly scurried from the room.

//

"I think you are improving my girl" Sunniva said with a warm laugh as Aedre smiled in reply. "You understand more and more of what I speak now, if only we could get your tongue to loosen." The disappointment rang clearly in her tone and Aedre felt a small sting of guilt at not living up to her mentor's expectations, though over the many months since the king's return she had learnt much.

Sunniva noticed the young girls' downcast eyes and patted her shoulder tenderly. "Not to worry, it will come to you when you are ready, I am sure of it." She paused. "We'll start on your writing soon, I'm not well learned but I know basic writing and it may help us talk a little better." She gave a comforting wink and began to gather the material she had been sewing. "Your sewing work on the other hand, is not a stitch of use," she teased, giving a small chuckle and making Aedre lift her head, her mood lifting.

"But, no matter, I have fixed the dress for you and it should fit without sagging so much, it helps that you've put on weight of course, but you are still far too scrawny, we'll have to feed you up before winter, it won't seem so harsh and then…" Sunniva carried on with her usual avalanche of words and Aedre listened, taking everything in and trying to understand each word spoken and guessing to the best of her skill those she could not.

"Éomer King is healing well," she continued, "and finally the feast in honour of the recent battles will be held. Of course the King was brooding he could not set after that band of Orcs, but needs must, and they had to be hunted down after they injured many of our riders. Of course Éomer King was none too pleased that the satisfaction of killing those that caused him injury could not be his, he does not change - even as a boy he reacted the same to such situations of pride, never a thought to his own well being." She paused, her eyes taking Aedre in, sensing the nervousness in her at the mention of the feast. "I'm sure you'll be just fine at the feast, it'll be noisier than what you're used to, but there is no one to fear and should you start to feel unsure you can always find me." She smiled and Aedre nodded.

//

Aedre entered Éomer King's chambers with his usual evening meal of roasted meats and freshly boiled vegetables. He was sat upon his bed, the last rays of sunlight casting a cosy glow into the room. He looked up from his thoughts as she entered and set the tray down before standing up straight, awaiting his signal for her to leave him.

He turned back to the window as if he cared not that she was there at all, Aedre shifted nervously.

"It is the last days of summer," he commented dryly, his tone full of regret. "Soon the hazy days will be gone." He continued to stare out of the window. "And I have yet to ride; my healers tell me it is not wise." His voice carried the distaste to this notion. "Firefoot is anxious to be away and I can do nothing to ease his mind, he will bear none but me." He sighed lowly and Aedre continued to stand in silence, waiting patiently. She had become used to this occurrence, he seemed to feel comfortable speaking freely with her, perhaps because she could not talk he knew his thoughts were safe or perhaps because she did not fawn over him as so many did… yet she knew it was not her he confided in, she was a tool for him to depart his troubles, it did not matter who she was…

"I grow tired of these walls, tired of this confinement." He rose from his bed and went to the window, his eyes closing as the wind brushed his face, he gestured for her to come forward and join him which she dutiful obeyed, but still keeping her distance - something he seemed to have become a little more accustomed to.

"Have you ever felt free?" He glanced at her as if not really caring if she answered.

Aedre shook her head.

"You can't understand my meaning then." He said harshly his brows knitting together. He gave a loud sigh and his frown relaxed. "Sunniva tells me you have learnt your words well?"

After a moment of thinking over his words she gave a certain nod.

"But, still you do not speak." He studied her, his hazel eyes darkening slightly. "Is it for not being able or not wishing?"

It again took her a moment to grasp what he was asking, she looked down at the floor, slowly shrugging her shoulders, her crude gesture brought a small smile to his lips.

"There is a question I have wanted to gain an answer for." He looked back at the landscape before him. "Why did they not kill you? As far as I have heard, Orcs do not take any brood in but their own."

Aedre took another moment to process what he had said, she brought her eyes to level with his, her lips parted as if she would speak but closed just as quickly. Tentatively she took a few steps forward and gestured to the city below them.

"City?" He cocked an eyebrow.

She shook her head, making the gesture of something smaller.

"Village?"

She nodded and gestured again to the city and then to him and shook her head.

"No men?" He stated in puzzlement and then his eyes widened in understanding. "They used you to find villages where the men were away?"

She frowned, then nodded and gave a half smile, pleased with her efforts.

"Why do you smile?" He asked, mistaking her pride of achievement for something sinister. The smile quickly fell from her lips. "Did you find enjoyment in your work?"

Aedre heard the change of tone in his voice more than understanding his words but still she knew instantly he was blaming her for the village's fates. He turned his gaze from her, his annoyance increasing at the girl before him though he could not tell why.

Aedre cast her eyes to the floor, silently thinking of any way to prove she had had no choice, to make him understand…

"Why do you not just speak?" He growled, knowing that he was venting his current frustration upon that which was easiest. "Your cow eyes and mewling irritate me," he paused, "you may seem innocent but your past tells of a different ilk, you must have cost many a woman and child their lives."

Aedre took a moment to gather his words into an understandable sentence in her mind; she stared at him, thoroughly stunned by the harshness of what he spoke. Her eyes began to prick with tears, he was blaming her for the people that had been killed, and the thought was unbearable… Slowly she began to raise her skirts, Eomer eyes were quickly drawn to the unexpected movement and his eyes widened in shock.

"Wha…" He abruptly stopped his questioning as Aedre's skirts reached her thighs, were she halted her skirt's ascent. Upon each thigh were deep scars, bitter reminders of painful cuts. She reached down and touched one of the disfiguring marks and then looked at him, her eyes pooling with tears, willing him to understand, that this was her punishment for disobeying, for trying to warn villagers, for going against them in any way. Each time they had cut her and the blood had come pouring out coating her flesh, she had been afraid that she would die from it, afraid they would finally cut that little bit deeper, the fear, the unknowing driving her near to madness.

Eomer's wide eyes lingered over the place she indicated, stunned into silence by her startling actions. The only girls that had ever risen their skirts to him had been the women he had pillowed with - true, many of the serving girls of the Golden Hall had shared his bed and he was not unaccustomed to a woman's body, but none had had such an innocent, sorrowful look upon their faces as they revealed their flesh. He knew full well this was not Aedre's meaning but still he found himself deeply shocked by the gesture.

Seeing his expression Aedre lowered her skirts and her large dark eyes searched his face, asking silently if he understood.

"Yes," he said in a small whisper, "I understand."

He turned to glance once more outside, not wishing to meet her gaze. "You have not had a fair life." His dark brows came together, "I'm sorry I spoke unkindly."

Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Aedre move a little closer to him, or perhaps it was just the shadows swaying he had noticed, the trick of the lighting making him mistaken.

Chapter Text

The week of the great feast arrived and Éomer was happy to be greeting his close friend Faramir once again. The young Steward of Gondor brought news of Éomer's beloved sister and her child and through Faramir's presence Éomer began to brood less upon such problems as confinement and strange serving girls. The two men sat together in Eomer's chambers playing an ancient wooden game, whiling away the hours until the great feast would finally arrive and the eating and drinking could begin.

"Éowyn yearns to come and visit Edoras and you, her heart longs for her old home," Faramir said smiling. "As soon as Elboron is old enough to make the ride we shall come to you."

Éomer nodded, a smile playing upon his lips. "That would please me much brother." His eyes remained clouded though his meaning was true.

Faramir's brow furrowed. "Your spirits seem dark Éomer, what troubles you?"

"I am tired," Éomer stated, a little too sharply than he would have wished. His expression softened, not wanting to give any more fuel to Faramir's suspicious gaze. "I have become caged in this hall over the last few months, and now I am again well, my duties keep me still inside."

Faramir nodded in understanding. "It is a heavy burden to be a king."

Éomer nodded. "One I was ill prepared for. I never thought I would see the death of my cousin Theodred, he would have made a fine king, Faramir."

"That may be true, but you shall also become a great king, do not think of yourself so lowly." Faramir paused. "Already your people are re-building, their lands once again rich in crops. Your people's happiness stands in testament to your ruling."

Éomer glanced at him but said nothing, instead making a move of one of the wooden pieces and winning the game.

"Anborn asked me to convey his good tidings to you," Faramir said, smiling and sitting back in his chair now the game was thoroughly over.

Éomer nodded, not really paying the man before him much attention, his mind once more wandering to riding and being away from the stuffy hall.

Faramir seemed to hesitate. "He wanted to enquire about the serving girl he brought, how she fares?"

Éomer's eyes jerked to meet Faramir's gaze. "The serving girl?" he questioned, fully understanding his meaning.

"Yes, the one he found with the Orcs."

"She fares well, she does her duties." It was Éomer's turn to hesitate. "Tell me more of her? I confess I am curious to her past and your tale over ale last year seemed too tall to take in."

Faramir laughed. "It does seem too tall, I admit." He paused. "Anborn said he found her in a cave around a day's ride from the White City. She was a filthy, skinny creature, more thin than when she was first brought to your hall. He said it appeared the Orcs had tormented her, beaten her…" He paused again, "violated her."

Éomer's eyes again flew to Faramir's, a strange sickness welling within his stomach at the mere thought of a woman being touched by one of those foul creatures, a feeling he felt sure Faramir also experienced by the look of distaste upon his features. "One of my serving women has taught her some of the common tongue, she has learnt well." Éomer said more to fill the silence than to give the information. "It seems she has never known the world of men fully until now."

Faramir nodded. "A pitiful creature," he said with a sad nod. "How does she fare with people?"

"She avoids them if she can."

Faramir scratched his bearded chin. "I know that Anborn sent her here to be rid of her," he confided.

"Rid of her?" Éomer furrowed his brow, becoming annoyed that his old friend had declared something he did not want as a gift.

Faramir smiled weakly. "He told me he found her presence too tempting." He shook his head, "he must see something I cannot, I only see a skinny creature too timid for the normal ways of life." He paused again, "perhaps Anborn can see more deeply than most?" he shrugged.

Éomer nodded but did not reply.

//

The feast was immense and full of merrymaking. Many torches lined the walls, giving the great hall a dim but inviting atmosphere. The long wooden tables were pulled out and each seat was taken by a man or woman in the full throes of too much good food and good drink. A small band of musicians played traditional dancing tunes that had many upon their feet and tables, kicking their feet high as laughter echoed around the wooden beams. Fights broke out and were also soon broken up with the aid of guards and all seemed joyous in the Golden Hall.

Éomer sat with Faramir, a goblet of Mead in his hand, what number goblet it was had been long since forgotten. His vision blurred as the music became smooth, serpentine and swaying, the notes and vibrations filling his mind. His attention was caught as Faramir lowered his head down to the table with a low moan and a drunken smile upon his lips. Éomer couldn't help but laugh as Gamling who sat beside him nudged Faramir roughly to be met by groans of protest. Faramir never had been able to hold his drink.

Éomer's eyes drifted to the men and women at a nearby table dancing in a less than restrained way, he noticed one of the men's hands snaked through folds of skirts, bodies pressing heatedly together. He smirked as he watched a moment, tonight was not for the nobles or stuffy old men, but for friends, warriors and revelry, for getting past noticeably intoxicated. As his eyes returned to his drink he felt a warm arm drape around his shoulders and turned to see one of the many serving girls slyly smiling at him.

Gamling gave a low laugh and turned his attention further down the table as Éomer pulled the girl drunkenly down onto his lap, she gave an overly girlish giggle and buried her face into his neck, her lips sending small shivers of pleasure up his spine as he continued to partake in his mead. Before long had passed, her hands were wandering down his chest, her caresses eager to please until they found the place between his legs, where she gently cupped his growing bulge. Éomer's hand containing his drink stopped in mid-air at the sensation and instinctively he glanced around the hall but the table hid all below his middle from view, and no man or woman seemed in the least part interested in anything but their own jinks. He enjoyed her caress for a moment, his mind slowly pondering if he should perhaps take her to his bed this night. As this thought crossed his mind he noticed the small figure flitting from table to table, a flagon of ale held with effort within her arms. His eyes locked upon her, watching her cringe and shrink from the people about her, retreating to the shadows when anyone came too close to her. He became unaware of the serving girl sat in his lap, unfeeling of her touch as his mind focused upon Aedre's movements.

She again moved from the shadows and was beckoned to a rather raucous table where some of his warriors drank; she poured the flagon, dispensing the ale where it was wanted. Éomer watched, fixated, as a large, very drunk man swayed towards her. He saw Aedre's face register alarm and she tried to move her body out of the path of his hand, but the flagon was too heavy and her movements slowed by its weight. The man laughed heartily as his hand clasped her waist, pulling her to him. Eomer saw her mouth open but could not hear her shriek above the din of music and people. Before the man could reel her in and place her upon his lap Aedre's grasp on the flagon slipped in her panic and it toppled to the floor, spilling the contents across the ground. The noise surprised the man and for a moment his grip loosened, Aedre took her chance and nimbly moved out of his reach, her feet taking her quickly and quietly into the deep shadows of the hall as Éomer's gaze followed her.

Éomer caught the girl's hand who was still sat upon his lap, halting her amorous caresses and without speaking signalled for her to rise. She gave him a displeased look but quickly regained her composure and smiled sweetly at him before leaving to serve other tables. Éomer glanced to his side, Faramir was still, in sleep, he gave one last look to his surroundings before taking a swig of his mead and leaving his seat, his strides taking him towards the shadows Aedre had concealed herself within. The light faded, cloaking him in shadowed folds and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the new gloom. He heard her before he saw her, soft whimpering sounds and then the dark outline of her form came into view. She was sat upon her haunches, gently rocking herself as sobs racked her small body. Perhaps it was too much drink that caused his heart to tug at the sight but he suddenly felt a great wave of pity, of sorrow for her and her ruined life and a wave of anger swept over him at how anything so callous could happen to anyone, let alone a frail girl.

Without thinking upon his actions he rushed forward and gathered her into his arms, pulling her close into a warm embrace. As their bodies pressed together he became aware of just how tiny and fragile she was, her frame so slight, so wasted, that he felt as if he could easily break her.

The suddenness of his presence and the unexpectedness of his behaviour caught Aedre off guard and for a few seconds she stood enclosed by him and as the realization of what was happening took full hold upon her, her body stiffened, her eyes widened and her breath caught within her throat. Éomer felt the change within her and then she squirmed away, pulling herself from him. She stared at him a moment, her eyes fearful, trying to understand his actions as she absently wiped at her wet cheeks.

Éomer felt an unexplainable rage sweep through him, the drink and music clouding his mind, his brows knitted together and his eyes blazed before he lunged forward and grasped her wrist. Aedre stared at him in surprise and alarm before he gave her a rough tug and began to pull her after him, she struggled at the first few steps she was made to take but he was easily able to drag her without feeling her attempts of resistance. He pulled her out through one of the doors to the side of the hall and into a dark passageway that was deserted. The music had become faint, the laughs and cheers distant. He roughly jerked her forward so that her back connected harshly with the wall before pounding his hand into the wooden panelling a few inches away from her head.

Aedre squeaked, her eyes widening, had she not always known it was too good to last? This life where no one seemed to be violent to one another, now the time had come for her to truly tell if this new life was any better than that she had left.

Éomer took in a deep breath; calming himself and let his hand rest in the place he had vented his anger, preventing her from running. Aedre flinched at his closeness and again Éomer furrowed his brow, his eyes darkening dangerously.

"Why do you recoil? I am no Orc!" he spat, not fully understanding his anger, only knowing that her reaction to his touch, to his presence made him feel a strange resentment.

Her eyes flashed to his, her gaze searching, startled by his words. They regarded each other for a long moment; the music sweetly drifting along the corridor, his breathing was heavy, his breath smelling sweetly of honey. The silence between them carried on, his dark expression did not lift and she became aware he was awaiting her answer. She glanced away and tried to move, to flee, but his free hand forced her back and she once again felt the wall against her.

Within that small instant his lips were upon hers, heated and hungry, his body pressed forward pinning her in place as his mouth worked upon hers. His palm found her cheek, his fingers tracing the outline of her jaw until his hand rested upon the nape of her neck, pulling her forward and deeper into the kiss, suddenly his tongue slipped passed her lips and rubbed against her own. Aedre stiffened becoming frozen as his kiss continued, his free hand snaked skilfully around her waist pulling her further into his warmth and pressing her contours against his groin. He groaned lowly into her mouth at the sensation, his head seeming to spin with desire. His thoughts fleetingly made themselves aware between fragments of need, he could make her see that not all men were to be feared, that not all attention was a punishment, that he could make it pleasurable… make her want him as much as he wanted her in this moment.

His hand that rested beside her head came to rest upon her shoulder, massaging slowly, his fingers finding the hem of her gown, the cool flesh of her neck, chest and tops of her breasts. Slowly he let his fingertips lightly pass over them, teasing gently until he cupped one of her breasts in his palm and squeezed gently, taking the full weight of it into his hand and grazing his thumb across the sensitive nipple. He felt her stiffen more against him, taking the action as her desire he continued, his hand now sweeping over her curves, over her hips and grabbing her skirts. He ruched them up, allowing his fingers to skim the flesh that became uncovered, he lingered over her inner thighs, teasing the sensitive skin. He broke their kiss and pressed his lips against the tops of her breasts, nipping gently at the skin as his fingers continued to circle vulnerable skin. He moved his hand away, meaning to loosen himself from his clothing and glanced at her face… he froze.

Aedre's eyes were tightly closed, tears cascading down her already stained cheeks, her hands grasping uselessly at his shoulders in a feeble attempt at restraining him. Slowly he stepped back, his eyes wide with disbelief, he had nearly taken the girl against her will and he would not have even known it. He pressed a hand to his temple and looked down at the ground trying to make sense of it all through the blur of too much drink.

Aedre finally opened her eyes, her dark gaze marred by tears clinging defiantly to her lashes. Leadenly her eyes shifted to meet his, betrayal and hurt shone accusingly at him, their beautiful bleak depths telling him that he was no better than the Orcs that violated her, that he had torn what trust she had into shreds. Whether she really felt these feeling or not was of no importance, this is what Éomer thought of himself and what he saw reflected in her fearful face. He took a stumbled step backwards, his mouth opened and closed but no words escaped his lips. He clutched at his temple once again and with a last shamed look at Aedre he turned and walked in quick fluid steps, her innocent, haunted expression seared into his memory.

Chapter Text

Aedre watched Éomer leave her, his long strides taking him quickly from the dark passageway and her line of sight. She did not move for what seemed an age, her thoughts only fully clicking into motion as she became aware of her loud, frightened breaths that made her breast heave unnaturally. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be calm, willing the panic to subside. She gulped in a few large breaths and slowly began to regain control over her body. She pushed herself from the wall, checking her legs were steady and with slow, uncertain steps she began to walk down the corridor, trying to curb the urge that tugged sickeningly in her stomach, telling her to break into a run.

Finally she reached her own room and pushed the door closed behind her, the small space giving her the comfort she longed for within this moment. She let her shocked body guide her to the bed where she dutifully obeyed her needs and lay down, letting her head fall comfortably onto the pillow and sink into the soft coolness it offered. Aedre wrapped her arms about herself and tried to think, her mind could make no sense of what had just happened, he was going to hurt her, punish her, this much she knew to be true… But why had it not felt the same as before, why had he stopped? It was true, she had not felt it to be a pleasurable experience, but his hands, his mouth… had they not been gentle and warm, not rough and callous, groping and pinching without care and with one purpose? Though she almost loathed to admit it, it had not been the same…

Aedre rolled onto her side, feeling as if her thoughts were swimming within her mind and she could make sense of nothing, she could find no reasoning or answers. She clutched at the pillow as if by this action she could clutch and find the answer she sought from thin air but nothing came to her that made sense, this was not the way things had been, this was not how things were meant to be… this was too confusing. She closed her eyes and replayed the event in her mind, his face had been furrowed in anger, his words seemingly unkind, heated, his actions violent but his mouth upon hers had been soft, warm and strange, his hands not touching just for himself, for his own pleasure but for her benefit… Her eyes flew open, her inner thoughts squirming unpleasantly at the images.

She wiped absently at her cheeks only just becoming aware that she was crying. She brushed angrily at her tears but she could not stop them.

The next morning Aedre awoke to the first rays of sunlight. She blinked, trying to dispel the slight throb in her head caused by her tears the night before. She rose and splashed her face with cool water, soothing her sore eyes. She heard the latch upon her door lift and whirled to face the person who entered, her heart beating hard within her chest.

Sunniva's kindly face came into view and Aedre felt her body relax, her mind whirling with just what she had been so fearful of, the thought he would venture down here after her was a foolish fear…

"Oh my girl!" Sunniva exclaimed. "You look as if you've seen a spirit." She rushed to Aedre's side, her hand coming to tenderly rest upon her brow. "Are you sick?"

Aedre shook her head and clasped the older woman's hand in her own, stopping her fussing.

"Maybe some food will bring you around?" Sunniva announced. "Last night was a long night, that I admit, even I had trouble getting from my bed this morn." She gave a sweet chuckle. "I was so run off my feet that I didn't even see you Aedre girl, it wasn't as bad as you expected I'll guess." She winked at Aedre and Aedre tried to smile.

The kitchens were only barely just coming to life, the feast had led to too much drink not only for the warriors and other guests of honour but for the servants as well and many were still asleep, soon to be abruptly awakened by their peers. A few of the kitchen girls stood around lazily preparing food in-between yawns and disapproving mumbles of being from the warmth of their beds.

Sunniva and Aedre helped themselves to left-over food and a good cup of watered down mead before seating themselves at the long, rough wooden table. Sunniva continued talking as Aedre began to eat the cold meal; she talked of the feast's happenings, fights, liaisons and funny stories of people partaking in too much ale. When they had finished Sunniva went to awaken some of the late sleepers before returning to set about the chores of the day with Aedre. A large group of women set about clearing the great hall. Aedre thought she had never seen such a mess, food scattered the floor along with spilled ale, mead and regurgitated couplings of all. The smell was quite foul and the large doors to the room had to be thrown wide to let in clean, fresh air.

The women then set about clearing the floors; some had to leave the room as their fragile stomachs caused by too much drink would not allow them to linger long. Aedre smiled weakly at them, feeling slightly amused by their looks of disgust and pale faces. Sunniva teased them mercilessly and sometimes her words were even the cause of their hurried departure.

"See," Sunniva said smugly, "drinking too much never amounts to anything good, heed my words girl."

Aedre nodded in reply and carried on with her cleaning.

"Can't we rest Sunniva?" A girl with beautiful long blonde hair whined, her face almost a light green in colour. "I can't take much more of this smell."

"Now, now stop your groaning and get on with your work Guene, you don't see our little Aedre halting in her work."

Guene glanced at Aedre who was carefully mopping at the floor. "Well she wouldn't, she never says anything, not one complaint, she's unnatural."

The others girls gave a stifled giggled.

"Hold your tongue Guene, she's a better worker than you, just you remember that, now off with you, get back to cleaning, Éomer King will want this hall back in working use by this evening."

Guene gave a nasty look at Sunniva's turned back before doing as she was bid.

//

The sun rose higher in the sky and by the afternoon the hall was as it had been before the feast. Many of the girls, including Aedre were sent to wash and change their clothing; some even had leave to go back to sleep as the residents of the Golden Hall would be rising late in the day. Sunniva had Aedre help her with preparing late afternoon meals for the many guests staying at or nearby the hall, which were then sent out with the servants.

Sunniva forced a large wooden tray filled with fresh smelling bread, honey, cooled roasted meats and a fresh mug of water into Aedre's hands.

"Take this on to Éomer King; he may be out of bed, he may not, just leave it in his room so he can eat if he feels like it."

Aedre hesitated, causing Sunniva to eye her suspiciously. "What's the matter child?"

Aedre glanced at her before quickly looking down at the tray, she shook her head.

"Alright then, you can rest for a few hours when you get back." Sunniva quickly turned back to the fire, her attention once again upon serving food.

Aedre stood still for a moment, fighting an inner battle to make her feet do her bidding; finally she turned and walked from the kitchen taking the familiar pathways and corridors to the largest private chamber. The door was closed and a thought flashed across her mind of just leaving the tray beside the door and nodding eagerly if Sunniva asked if she had done her duty… but then Sunniva's disappointed expression swam into her mind and she knew she could not do such a thing, to have to witness that look was more than she could bear, worse than facing the man that confused and disrupted the way things were meant to be in her own little world.

She pressed her back against the door and it creaked open. Inside the room was dark, the shutters still latched. She took a few small steps forward as the door swung closed behind her. Aedre squinted for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust until she could make out darker shapes and avoid falling over, or bumping into any of the furniture. Her gaze locked onto the small low stool that she normally laid his food upon and with carefully steps she began to make for it.

"Who's there?" a groggy and thick voice asked from the darkness.

Aedre froze.

"Light a candle!" the voice commanded.

Aedre continued towards the stool and placed the tray down before searching a nearby table blindly until her fingers found a candle and the means to light it. The flame sizzled into life, casting a dull glow as the fire began devouring the wax, becoming brighter as it fed. She walked towards the bed and placed the candle near enough for the occupant to see by its light.

Éomer squinted and felt his head begin to throb as he became more awake.

"How late did I sleep?" he asked, placing a hand over his eyes.

Aedre could not answer but stood a good few feet from him waiting for his normal gesture stating she could leave.

Éomer glanced up as no reply was forthcoming, his gaze falling upon the small girl; the memories of the night before came flooding back into his mind, his eyes widened. Slowly, as if his thoughts were not yet functioning properly, he raised his hand and signalled that she could leave him; she quickly obeyed and scurried from the room. Éomer stared into the gloom a moment trying to gain an understanding to his actions at the feast, before finally giving in to the urge to pull the covers back over himself and sink back into sleep.

//

Autumn made itself known in Edoras, the last days of summer were fleeting and the colder winds began to blow across the plains. The people of Rohan began to harvest crops and prepare for the coming winter, wood was gathered, meat salted and grain stored.

Éomer was finally given leave from his healers to re-join his Éoreds and take part in hunting down any threats to his people. In the saddle, Firefoot's hoofs beating the ground like a steady, determined heartbeat, Éomer could almost believe himself to be a great man, a great king as Faramir said he would one day be. Here out on the plains, in the heat of battle he felt his qualities restored, the stuffy Golden Hall held no love for him, nor he for it when all he did with his days was read paper after paper, hear case after case and sit upon his throne feeling as if he wasted slowly away to nothing.

Out here at least he felt as if he helped his people. Farming and the welfare of his people were important but they were things he could not fully understand, he had been raised as a warrior, the third marshal of the Riddermark, his duty to his king, not as a king. He wondered briefly what his uncle, Théoden, would think of his nephew's rule, would he pleased or disquieted by Éomer's leadership, but then what did dwelling on such dark thoughts accomplish other than a foul temper.

The great city of Edoras, his city, loomed over the plains as he and his riders approached, Meduseld blazing golden in the Autumnal sun. This place had forever been his home, the Golden Hall his playground as a child, discovering passageways, stealing food from the kitchens… Everything had seemed warm, bright and loving, wrapped snugly in his mother's embrace, listening to his father talk in length of great battles and victories and watching his little sister, Éowyn, begin to talk and walk. But then everything had changed… that fateful day his father had not come home. A band of riders returned wounded and battle tired, he remembered being disturbed by the fact that so few of them came home… and his father was not among them. The lamenting shrieks from his mother had begun as she sank down to the ground, he had tried to support her but he was too young to be of any aid.

Théoden had tried his best to make the loss of his sister's husband bearable but nothing would quell her sorrow, before Éomer's eyes his mother had begun to waste away. She would neither drink nor eat without being forced, her face became pallid, she stopped conversing with anyone and her eyes glazed over unseeing of anything but past happy memories, memories she encased herself in, memories that slowly but surely killed her. She had become sick, some said of a fever, others a plague, and some insisted it had been a broken heart, but whatever affliction caused it she had succumbed and died. Éomer and Éowyn had been left orphaned. Théoden had taken both of the small children in as his own, raised them alongside his son, but still, being raised by a king was very different to having one as a father.

Éomer spurred Firefoot onwards towards the great mounds that lined the way to the entrance of the city, mounds where both his uncle and cousin now slept in peaceful slumber. The small white simbelmynë flowers carpeted the green grass curves giving them a forlorn and sorrowful air, their presence an everlasting memory to those departed. Éomer felt a strange wave of emotion run through him at the thought that they would one day also cover his own barrow.

The gates were opened and the weary riders returned once more to their city. Éomer dismounted with one fluid movement and removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm. He found that his stomach was already grumbling at the prospect of a good hot meal and a mug full of ale. He was met by Gamling, a man after his own heart, a real Rohirrim to his very core.

"My lord," he said, giving a small dip of a bow. "I was not expecting you to ride out so soon after your last expedition, if I had but known, I would have gladly come with you."

Éomer smiled warmly. "For that I am sorry Gamling, I would have liked to ride with you, but there are plenty of such days ahead."

Gamling nodded. "Some of the nobles are becoming restless that you have not been in the hall as much as they would wish, they seem to worry like old washer women at your riding." Gamling gave Éomer a warm smile, it was all too often that his façade slipped, reverting back to the Gamling he had drunk and gotten drunk with, had laughed and talked confidently with as only good friends do, he was much more comfortable in Éomer's presence than he had been in the late king's.

Éomer's brow furrowed. "Such men as these remind me of Grima, I shall not fall prey to any silver tongues or men telling me what I should do."

Gamling puffed his chest out a little in pride at his friend's words. "Then you make Rohan proud, Théoden King would be well contented to see his city and lands ruled as he once did before a shadow fell across us."

Éomer gave his friend a sideways glance. "Flattering your king will not earn you any more ale at the table," he teased, a sly smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Gamling patted Éomer affectionately but roughly upon the back. "Come… you could use a bath and some good food."

Chapter Text

Sunniva poured the last steaming bucketful of hot water into the wooden tub and turned to look at Éomer who was busying himself with removing his armour. She idly picked up a wash cloth and hung it over the side before searching for a lump of soap.

"The battle went well I trust?" she asked.

Éomer glanced up from his task. "It was more of a raid," he said with half a smile. "The Orcs were not expecting us; we killed all but a few." He paused, turning his gaze to the shuttered window. "It was a good victory, all the same."

Sunniva nodded. "Come now, get in while the water is still hot and I shall wash your back." She turned her back to him as he continued to remove his layers before he gingerly slid into the warmth of the bath.

"You do not change," Éomer laughed, "you still think me a child," he chided teasingly.

"Who else will tend to you? Until you find yourself a wife I have to be your mother." She paused, feeling her tongue had been too loose.

Éomer glanced behind him at her sudden silence. "You speak the truth Sunniva; you have been like a mother to both myself and my sister."

Sunniva relaxed and soaped up the cloth before setting to scrubbing the dirt and sweat from his back. "Have you thought of visiting Gondor?" she finally pried, "perhaps you could visit your sister and also the Prince Imail of Dol Amroth?"

Éomer glanced back at her his expression darkening. "The counsellors have been in your ear again," he said a little too grumpily.

"Yes, that is true, but it is also true that I want to see you happy with a wife, a Queen for our lands."

"I have not even seen the maid Lothíriel clearly, Prince Imail keeps her tightly bundled, how am I to decide to marry someone I have yet to even talk with?!" He splashed at the water like a moody child.

"Perhaps if you asked Lord Faramir to accompany you, the Prince would not feel so protective, after all they are kin," she continued, ignoring his small outburst.

Éomer gave a small nod. "I'll think on it." He furrowed his brow, "let's not dwell upon such things, talk of something else."

Sunniva became still as if deciding silently if she should bring up a question, Éomer sensed her thoughts easily.

"What holds your tongue Sunniva?" he asked, amusement creeping back into his voice, it was a rare occasion when Sunniva did not speak her mind.

"I wonder my lord," she began hesitantly, "has little Aedre done something to displease you?" She paused, feeling the muscles on his back tighten. "You used to always call for her and now it is only me or one of the other serving girls, I thought her quiet nature pleased you."

"No, she has not displeased me," Éomer said stiffly.

"Than what troubles you about her?" Sunniva asked boldly. "She does her work well enough," she paused again, "I thought… perhaps her appearance…"

"No, it has nothing to do with her looks," Éomer snapped. "I just grew tired of her being unable to speak."

Sunniva eyed him with suspicion knowing he was keeping some part of the truth from her. Éomer felt her gaze and looked back at her, his eyes darkening. "Fine, send for her to clean the mud from my armour, she can then take it to the leather worker, it needs mending," he paused before adding more, "the time away has probably lessened my irritation."

Sunniva gave a soft chuckle. "Your anger always did work faster than your lips." She patted his shoulder before standing up straight and passing him the washrag. "I'll send her up with some fresh broth and a mug of warmed mead."

Éomer heard her footsteps leave the room and with a scowl of annoyance carried on with his washing.

//

Aedre jumped at the touch of a hand upon her shoulder and turned to see Sunniva, the older woman smiled warmly before picking up a nearby bowl and spooning hot broth into it.

"See Aedre," she beamed, "I've just come from Éomer King, he is not displeased as we feared."

Aedre looked on, watching the woman busy herself with preparing a tray for the king, she frowned slightly at Sunniva's words. The truth of the matter was that it was Sunniva that had feared Éomer King's displeasure with Aedre, not Aedre herself.

"He wants you to take him his meal and you are to clean his armour, carefully now though." Sunniva stuck a cloth into Aedre's apron strings before placing bowl of wax upon the tray the food was to be carried on. Aedre tried to control the rising sickness that had begun to cling to her stomach as Sunniva stuck a red hot poker into a mug full of mead causing the contents to bubble for a moment. She pushed the tray into Aedre's hands and gave her a kindly smile.

"Off you go." She flapped her hand distractedly before turning back to another chore.

Aedre quickly left the kitchen, hoping that her visit would be at least brief; if she worked fast perhaps he would not pay her presence much mind.

She warily entered his chambers and instantly saw him standing by the fire, rubbing his long hair between his hands in an effort to dry it. He looked up as she entered, his eyes connecting with hers for a moment before Aedre broke the contact and hurriedly put the tray down nearby. Avoiding looking at him again she picked up the bowl of soft wax and pulled the cloth from her apron, making for the discarded armour sitting in a corner. She pulled away some of the fur rugs so as not to stain them and then sat herself down upon the cold, hard ground, pulling the large piece of chest armour between her legs to gain better access for cleaning it. She attacked her job with vigour, rubbing forcefully but gently, removing dirt and blood and bringing out the gleam the armour held secret underneath. She was so engrossed in making herself focused that she did not hear his footfalls coming towards her, and when she again reached for the pot to renew her cleaning wax her hand enclosed around his. He was sat upon his haunches not two feet from her, his hand wrapped round the bowl, preventing her from taking it. With a small noise of surprise she drew her hand back, her eyes coming to rest upon his face.

His dark hazel eyes held her gaze to his for a moment before her own eyes darted past him, as if searching for an escape route. Éomer reached out and tenderly, gently took her hand in his. Aedre could hear her heart beat drumming deafeningly within her ears, the panic threatening to engulf her.

"Aedre." Her name passing his lips startled her enough to shock her into stillness; her eyes flew to his, surprise clearly shining in their depths. "I should not have avoided you for so long a time." He paused and licked his dry lips. "I am sorry; I did not mean to treat you so badly…" he paused again. "The feast, my actions were unforgivable, too much drink made me forget myself." He looked up into her stunned face, his brow furrowed, her expression making him wonder if she had understood anything. "Do you understand my words?"

Aedre seemed to shake herself a little as if only just regaining the power to move her body, slowly she nodded and then after a moments hesitation she shook her head.

"You do not understand?" Éomer said, trying to understand her meaning.

Aedre nodded and put her hands to her lips, making a motion as if speaking.

"You understand words?" Éomer's brow furrowed deeper.

Aedre shook her head, hesitated and then removed her hand from his; carefully she placed her hand to his lips, making the same gesture.

"You understand my words?" Éomer's brow relaxed and a small smile wound its way onto his lips, Aedre nodded, a weak smile also appearing on her face.

"Then what is it you do not understand?"

Aedre glanced around the room and then down at the armour, she began to trace a word in the dirt and grime, pulling back for him to see what she had written, Éomer studied it, the crude writing taking a moment to register the word within his mind.

"Why," he read aloud, frowning. "Why… what?"

Aedre hesitated again and once again gestured speaking and pointed to him.

"Why am I saying these words to you?"

Slowly she nodded, her eyes, he noticed were full of a fearful curiosity. Éomer looked down, searching for an answer but finding his tongue felt dry, when he again looked at her his eyes held a look of annoyance.

"Why did you not fight against me?" He studied her expression as she digested his words. "If I had not pulled away I feel you would have let me," he paused again waiting for his words to reach her, "even though you did not wish it."

Aedre gave a strange wry smile as if he had asked something childish but as his expression did not change she realized he was asking her in earnest, her smile fell away and she frowned, shaking her head slightly. She brought her hands together as if they were bound and then raised them above her head. Slowly, uncomfortable with his full attention upon her, she lowered her hands back down and placed her hands on her forearms, tracing more thin scars, her eyes again rested upon his, her expression asking if he understood.

It took Éomer a moment to understand her full meaning and his mouth fell a little agape. "You thought if you fought you would be punished?"

Her brow furrowed not quite understanding his words.

"You feared you would be hurt?"

She gave a slow but certain nod.

He hesitated. "Did the Orcs hurt you if you fought, if they tried to…" He trailed off, the mere thought of what he was trying to form into words made his heart heavy and anger stir within his blood. "Did they…" he suddenly found his throat parched, "did they hurt you if you refused, to do what I nearly… at the feast?" He found his words failed him.

Aedre looked in confusion at him, through her eyes he could see her thoughts processing, trying to make sense of his muddled words. Finally she nodded; curling her hand into a fist she mimed a punch softly to her cheek.

Éomer closed his eyes at her answer suddenly feeling such a wave of pity, a feeling of such regret, that it near overcame him.

"I am… sorry," he said in a low voice.

Aedre furrowed her brow but remained still.

He finally re-opened his eyes and looked at her, his gaze studying her face. With a deliberate ease he softly placed his palm to her cheek, she flinched, her eyes widening slightly.

"I will never hurt you," he said slowly, clearly. Her eyes flicked to each of his as she tried to discern his meaning. "No one shall hurt you again, little Aedre."

Aedre shook her head slowly, her blank look again stating she did not fully understand the words he spoke.

//

Éomer sat leisurely upon his bed, the furs pulled lightly over him to ward off the late evening chill. He yawned and pushed himself up and onto his feet, leaving the warmth of the covers. He walked to the shutters that were latched snugly against the winter winds, with a small smile he lifted the latch and opened the shutters wide, outside the sky was already black, the clouds hiding all stars from sight. Large snowflakes fluttered ethereally down to the ground, sticking and creating a blanket of crisp whiteness across all of Edoras and the plains beyond. The whole city seemed to be encased in silence, no sound of wind reached his hearing, though he could feel its cool caress. He began to hum an old lullaby, a song near forgotten from his youth, the hum forming into low, mumbled words only half remembered.

"A voiceless song in an ageless light,
Sings at the coming dawn,
Where the heart moves the stones,
There that my heart is longing for,
All for the love of you,
Your eyes declare a truce of trust,
Then it draws me far away,
Your lamps will call me home,
And so it's there that my homage's due,
Clutch-ed by the still of the night,
Now I feel, feel you move,
And every breath, breath is full,
Even the distance feels so near,
All for the love of you."

The words flowed from him, bringing back warm, mislaid memories of his mother's sweet voice straining slightly at the highest notes as she mended clothing, prepared food for himself and Éowyn, of the blurred remembrance of the story behind the song, about an Elven man's love for a mortal woman he could never live his life with.

The last word fell harshly from him as he became aware that his eyes were straining with tears, the unexpected memory shocking him into sorrow. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and returned his gaze back to the beautiful sight of the snow falling, but still the sorrow clutched heavily at his heart. His family had died before his eyes, it seemed, one by one, and now he and his sister were the only remains, she gone far over the plains to Gondor… for the first time in his twenty nine years, Éomer felt truly alone.

"My lord?"

Éomer turned at the unexpected voice.

"Are you well?" Sunniva asked, her brow creased in worry.

"Yes Sunniva, I am well." He paused, "You know I dislike the winter fall." He gestured distractedly to the window.

"Then why open your shutters?" she scolded, "It will do naught but bring misery to the heart."

"Sometimes it is good to remember."

"That is true, but not in the dark nights of winter where regret waits for unwary thoughts." She ushered him aside and closed the shutters. She turned back to him, seeing the melancholy etching itself upon his face. "Winter always did make your thoughts dark," she commented, busying herself with stoking up the fire with an iron poker.

"It's when mother passed, the first winter fall."

Sunniva nodded. "I remember too well," she said softly.

"I have never felt such bleakness Sunniva; perhaps it is because Éowyn is so far that the remorse feels so near, last winter fall I was too occupied with being King, now many things seem to weigh heavily upon me."

"It will pass," Sunniva said, placing a hand tenderly upon his shoulder, "it will pass, my boy." He placed a hand over hers. "Do not doubt how much your mother and father would take honour in you, and all you have done for your lands, you will be a great ruler, Éomer," she said, using his rarely uttered name, the familiarity of its use voiced only in times of privacy and need.

"I fear I do not know how to serve my people well, a warrior is not a king - ask me to go into battle, to lay down my life… I can do all of these things willingly, but ask me to sit inside a hall of kings and govern my people…" He paused, "I fear I will fail."

"Come now," she said with a warm smile, "such talk is not fit for such a bleak night; you shall soon see your words have no merit." She squeezed his hand before releasing it. "Your worries will all be for naught and you will feel foolish Éomer King, warrior and king are one - you cannot be king without being a great warrior and you are the most prized warrior in all Rohan." She gave him a playful push and a smile slowly formed itself upon his lips. "It is these dark days, and no more."

Éomer nodded. "Your words are wise as they always are, Sunniva, perhaps I should make you my adviser." He gave a low chuckle and Sunniva joined him.

"Yes, that would cause quite a stir," she grinned, seeing his mood was lifting slightly. "Come, sit back under your covers, I shall send for some of our Melomel from the stores, perhaps the Cyser - it always used to be your favourite."

Éomer grinned in surprise, "I thought we had none left these last years!"

"We have a small amount, one of the girls found it while cleaning out the old mead store." She smiled again before making for the door.

"Send Aedre with it, Sunniva."

Sunniva gave a glance over her shoulder before giving him a knowing smile and a firm nod.

Chapter Text

Aedre entered the kings chambers carrying a mug of cyser, the contents slightly warmed to ward off the winter chill. The king lay relaxing upon his bed but at her entrance he slowly sat up, a warm smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Little Aedre, how are you this evening?" He asked in a mellow voice, his mood seeming to lift even more by the sight of the cyser.

He held out his hand for her to give him the mug directly. "Come," he urged, "you must come to understand that no one here means you harm."

She walked reluctantly towards him and held out the mug for him to take.

"You cannot act like a frightened rabbit forever." He enclosed his hands around the vessel and brought it to his lips tasting some of the delicious sweet liquid, filling his mouth with the flavours of apple and honey. He smacked his lips and returned his gaze to her. "Here, try some." He held the mug back out to her and she regarded both Éomer and then the object he held with a questioning look. With his free hand he motioned taking a drink and then again urged her to take it from him.

Aedre clasped the handle and lifted it to her mouth, sipping slowly and uncertainly at the liquid. Her eyes widened slightly as the honeyed warmth of the drink filled her senses, without pausing she took a larger gulp and then another before the mug was pulled gently from her grasp.

Éomer laughed heartily. "Not too much at once," he playfully scolded. "It will make your thoughts spin." He grinned at her and to his surprise a small smile was returned.

"You smiled!" He said the playful notes again coating his tone. "Be careful or it will become a habit," he took another drink his eyes still upon her. "Is Sunniva still tutoring you in writing?"

It was a moment before Aedre nodded.

"That is good," he said distractedly, his gaze drifting again to the shutters, his thoughts once more upon his past but this time thinking upon them did not seem so bleak. Sunniva always seemed to have a wondrous power to make him feel better and not dwell upon shadows. He brought his leg up and rested his arm leisurely upon his knee.

"What of your past?" he asked suddenly his eyes flicking back to her, "do you remember your mother? Your father?"

Aedre gave an uncertain nod and then placed her hands over her face before letting them fall back to her side, she shook her head sadly.

"Ah, you do, but not their faces?"

Aedre again nodded.

"You must have been young…" he paused. "Do you remember anything of your home land?"

Aedre again took a moment to reply, processing his words thoroughly before answering with a slow shake of her head.

Éomer studied her intently as she shifted nervously under his gaze. "You don't look like you belong to the Rohirrim," he commented casually, "you are too small and dark." He again studied her. "It is more likely you are from a village in the lands of Gondor, one that is no more." He gave a wry smile. "It is strange to think that you know nothing of the great war of the One Ring," he mumbled to himself.

Finally he again returned his gaze to her. "I'd like us to become friends, little Aedre, after all one day you must have a life outside the walls of Meduseld." He paused watching her a moment as she watched him. "You must get used to the world, people… perhaps my company will ease you into your new life." He again returned his gaze to the shutters, the melody of his mother's song running through his mind. "After all," he said distantly, "do we not all deserve the chance to live a good and noble life." He heard her shift slightly and connected with her eyes. "Though I know not why I pity you so and why your eyes haunt my mind…" his voice was barely a whisper.

Their eyes stayed locked for a moment before Éomer gave her leave to depart. He watched after her a moment before turning back to his drink, perhaps it was not just the Cyser and Sunniva that had lifted his spirits this night.

//

"Sunniva!" Éomer scolded his brow furrowing, "use neater strokes with your pen, the poor girl shall never learn from your chicken scratch." He grinned cheekily and Sunniva's reply was to throw a piece of stale bread his way.

Sunniva sat upon a warm fur rug by the fire with Aedre beside her as the older woman tried to continue her writing lesson. Éomer sat in a wooden chair not far from them, his feet resting upon a stool. This had become a frequent sight in the king's chambers over the long winter months; the distraction gave Éomer some enjoyment when his regal tasks of the day were at an end.

"She will not learn anything if you continue to disrupt me with your childish comments!" she gave him a warning, but playful look before turning back to Aedre who was now writing with some difficulty upon a sheet of parchment. "That's very good Aedre my girl, very good, you answered my written question with ease."

Aedre glanced up, a small smile upon her lips at the praise as she finished the last letter. Sunniva picked up the parchment and showed it to Éomer.

"I am Aedre," he read aloud before turning his eyes to her and smiling broadly. "Yes, very good."

"And who am I?" Sunniva asked quickly, bringing Aedre's gaze from Éomer.

Aedre again set to work and soon passed the parchment back.

"Sunniva, who is a kind woman," Sunniva said with a grin. "Very good." She patted Aedre's shoulder affectionately.

"And who am I, Aedre?" Éomer asked.

Aedre hesitated her eyes showing that she was thinking before she began to write again, passing her finished work to Éomer. "Éomer King, ruler of Rohan," Éomer chuckled as he read it. "You forgot to put that I am kind," he chided playfully.

He smiled warmly and Aedre returned his smile with her own.

"You have improved much," Sunniva said moving the younger girl's hair to one side.

"Yes," Éomer interrupted, "and soon it will be spring and Sunniva will not be able to keep either of us inside this stuffy building," he teased.

"The cold weather is no place to go, if you need not, I prevent you both catching a chill!" Sunniva said a little indignantly before beginning to gather up the parchment and pens.

Éomer looked at Aedre and gave her a stern look that mocked a similar expression often used by Sunniva when she fussed. Aedre clasped her hand over her mouth and glanced at Sunniva's turned back, trying hard to suppress her laughter.

"Come now Aedre, it's time for our evening chores, let us leave Éomer King and his childish faces," she rounded upon Éomer with a knowing look, "and go our way."

Éomer gave a low chuckle. "Ah Sunniva, do not be vexed," he said trying to control the tone of amusement in his voice. "The evenings are so dull, I must do something."

Sunniva cast a disapproving eye over him before helping Aedre get to her feet. "Perhaps you'd do better to read than make fun of an old woman."

Éomer rose from his chair and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing her briefly upon her cheek with a cheeky grin.

Sunniva couldn't help but smile. "Ah, be off with you," she said more warmly than she had wanted.

Aedre watched the scene with a curious expression, until Sunniva once more turned to her and ushered her out of the room.

//

Spring began, and the first budding flowers pushed themselves from the cold ground, their appearance warming hearts and cheering minds that the harshness of winter was over and planting crops and birthing animals could soon begin.

Éomer took the first chance that presented itself to him to ride out with his éored. They checked nearby villages, looking for any sign of enemies or trespassers. It was mid spring by the time he returned to Edoras.

As he rode up the steep pathway to Meduseld, the fresh breeze behind him and the warm sun shining to his left, lighting the hall's thatched roof and making it seem to shine golden, he saw the advisors and nobles already waiting from him on the steps. He gave an inward sigh as he reined Firefoot around and into the stables, dismounting and giving the reins to one of the many stable hands. He stroked the stallion's muzzle gently.

"Restan Arfreond." He cooed quietly as Firefoot gave a soft snort and nuzzled against him.

He took a deep breath knowing that as soon as he mounted those steps he would once again be bombarded with question, suggestions and stern observations. He glanced back at Firefoot who was already enjoying a rub down and wished that his life could be so simple. He turned and made his way to the stairs. Before he had even placed a foot firmly upon the first step his advisors were clamouring down to meet him.

"My Lord!" one began, "we are so happy you have returned, we began to worry…"

"There is much to do!" another put in.

"Your absences have caused us much debate."

"Your place is here with your people."

"I was among my people," Éomer growled trying to control his temper.

"Yes, yes my Lord, but riding is for the éored at your command, you are needed here."

Éomer tried to smile but it came across as a grimace. "My people are still plagued by Orcs and I will continue to ride to their aid until I deem that the threat does not loom so far across Rohan's lands," he paused. "Papers and formal duties amount to nothing over a person's suffering." He saw the men cast their eyes down. He felt a small ball of hope warming inside of him, he was finally making them see.

"I have not forgotten my duties to Edoras or you yourselves and I will look over all you would put before me on the morrow, but now I am tired and wish to rest."

"Yes, Éomer King," they said in unison and gave a small bow.

Éomer grinned. "Good, I shall see you all in the morn," he gave them a small incline of his head to show his respect and then began to climb the stairs in earnest, his heart suddenly feeling lighter.

His room was clean and tidy, a bath already drawn and waiting by the time he had made his way past everyone that wished to greet his return in a formal manner. He discarded his armour and sank down into the steaming water. His muscles gave small protests at relaxing at first, the many days in the saddle had made them once again familiar to being forever in use, but soon the soothing warmth lapped away any knots and tightness he felt and he gave a long sigh of relief to be home and clean.

He wrapped himself in a snug fur lined robe that had been put nearby the fire to warm, tying it tightly at his waist. Éomer reclined back in his chair letting the fire slowly dry his hair as he waited for his meal to be brought. He began to doze softly before the sound of a tray being put nearby made him open his eyes. Aedre stood before him and as his gaze met hers, a small welcoming smile formed upon her lips.

"Little Aedre!" Éomer said warmly. "It seems so long since last I saw your face," he gave her a small grin. "How goes your studies?"

Aedre nodded eagerly.

Éomer glanced down at the freshly made food. Honey roasted pork and buttered cabbage, one of his favourite meals; it seemed Sunniva was treating him.

"That is good," he said in reply to her nod. He picked up the plate and began spooning large amounts of food into his mouth, within minutes the plate was scarped clean; he placed it back down upon the tray and took a long swing from a mug containing ale, before placing that too back down and wiping his beard with the back of his hand, removing any stray drops.

"I brought you something," he said cheerily pushing himself up from his chair and striding over to his bed. He picked up a rather tatty, well worn leather bag and pulled it open, his hand searched for a moment before pulling out what he sort, a carefully wrapped package. He turned and walked back towards her.

Aedre looked at him questioningly, her dark eyes wide, her expression almost childlike.

Éomer gave a small chuckle at the sight before producing a delicious looking bun with what appeared to be a sticky topping crowned by sugared flowers.

"It is a special sweet from one of the villages in Rohan; they only make them once a year when these blue flowers are in bloom," he indicated to the pretty sugared flowers before holding the gift out for Aedre to take.

Aedre glanced up at him her eyes sparkling with curiosity and a look that verged upon being glee. He raised his brow at her indicating that she should take it from him. A little nervously and clumsily Aedre reached out, her hands hesitated before finally she took it. Their fingers brushed softly for a moment and Aedre felt a small shiver ascend her spine. As if stung she pulled away taking the bun with her, she glanced up at him, suddenly feeling warm as if her cheeks were burning. She averted her eyes to the bun and gave a small nod stating she was thankful.

Éomer studied her, had she blushed? He couldn't help but smile. To ease her discomfort he walked over to where his ale still awaited him and took another long drink.

"Try it," he urged seeing that she had not moved.

She slowly turned to face him her composure again restored. She gave a small nod and brought the bun level to her eyes. She examined the sweet, turning it for a moment this way and that, fascinated by the crystallized flowers and how they caught the light. Slowly she brought it to her lips and carefully took a small bite. The taste seemed to envelope her entire being, she had never tasted something so wonderful. She took another bite and then another, her lips savouring the sweetness, her tongue tasting the rough sugared flowers. When she had finally finished she looked across at Éomer realizing that for a moment she had forgotten he even stood in the room with her.

She noticed his expression was a little stunned, his lips parted. Aedre shifted her gaze uneasily, perhaps she had eaten too greedily. Sunniva often scolded her for eating like a small piglet… perhaps she had forgotten herself.

Éomer gave a small clearing of his throat and tried to smile warmly. "Was it good?" his voice sounded strange to her ears, thicker somehow.

She nodded and suddenly wished for nothing more than to be from the room.

"Good," he mumbled turning to look at the fire. "You can go," he gave a small gesture over his shoulder and Aedre quickly obeyed leaving him alone.

Éomer waited until she had departed before he again looked back up. The images of her mouth as she bit into the bun, her eyes closing in enjoyment, her lips glossy with sweet sugar stirred something within him. Her dark eyes again seemed seared into his mind, although this time it was not guilt or shame that kept them there.

Chapter Text

Éomer listened intently as his advisors talked, detailing new plans for the city, new houses to be built to aid those that had come from over the plains of Rohan. The war of the One Ring had ravaged many villages and in their time of need the people of Edoras had offered their own homes as shelter to the refugees, but it was an uncomfortable arrangement and needed to be dealt with. Soon the people who needed land and houses would have a place to call their own and enough money to help them restart their old ways of making a living.

It was not long before all that needed to be discussed was finished with and Éomer rose from his throne, giving his advisors an incline of his head, and made his way from the room, looking forward to the peace and quiet his own chambers offered. He was granted his wish of solitude - it was too early for the evening meal and all the servants were busying themselves with chores. Yet he soon found he was discontented by the silence, he felt a strange restlessness that he knew did not stem from his need to ride. The fact of the matter was that he had become at ease with the way of life in the Golden Hall, the advisors did not vex him as they once did, he found he could tolerate days enclosed inside the stuffy hall as long as he knew that if he wished he could ride, that his freedom still remained his alone. Sunniva explained this change as Éomer accepting his duties and taking the first certain steps upon the path to becoming a great leader.

Perhaps she was partly right but Éomer knew only too well that this was not the sole reason for him being more appeased by the thought of staying in Edoras. He had tried at first to push the feelings from his thoughts, dismissing them as a youthful fantasy, a harmless obsession that must stay within his mind but every time she came into the room, every time she smiled at him his heart seemed to gain a few extra beats…

He tried to reason with himself that at the very least the feelings could not be deep, that they could not reach his heart. After all Aedre was not what most would deem a beauty, her scars had seen to that… but then that was just at a careless glance, seeing just the flaws. He found himself studying her as she learnt from Sunniva, listened to those around her, or served his food; behind those imperfections lay a wealth of hidden secrets. Her eyes, a beautiful expressive dark brown that seemed to swim with a mixture of ageless sorrow and childlike wonder, seemed to pierce into his soul every time they met his. Her smile could lighten any heart from its troubles, her lips perfect, plump and sweet. But above all that were her mannerisms. Although he knew more than anyone what horrors she had lived through, her kindness endured. She could not do enough for Sunniva or himself, or anyone else that asked anything of her… She was quiet, demure and had an ethereal aura about her to his mind.

He enjoyed her company more than any woman he had known save his sister, but this was of course different. He found he tried to impress her with his knowledge of history or an old poem; whether the desired effect was achieved he never knew as she seemed to be happy with anything he said. He often wondered if she was humouring him because he was king, because of what Sunniva had instructed of her, but her smile seemed so genuine as to tug painfully upon his heart and though he tried hard to dissuade the notion, he did not see his day as fulfilled unless he had seen her.

Still he wrestled with his emotions, what good could come of it? He could never be with anyone but a woman of station, a woman fit to rule alongside him with breeding and heritage. Aedre was none of these things… he knew if it truly was a deep feeling… love… he could do nothing for her other than leave her once all was said and done. He would have to marry for his people, for Rohan, not for himself.

And what of Aedre herself? He doubted if she would even accept his advances, would see him in any other light than a friend… than a king. Still it did not seem to matter how much he told himself these things silently over and over again, he still thought of her, wished to see her, felt his mood instantly lift when she did walk into the room. He had known, or thought he had known, love before when he had been in his sixteenth year, a maid called Mildryth, she had been a few years older than he, very beautiful, with hair like spun gold and a laugh that would have made the Valar smile. He had adored her, thought of marrying her but he had soon learnt that such things could not happen and that love was something for old songs and tales. Love between different classes ended in nought by ruin and pain. Now his belief seemed shaken by this young woman that had not even batted an eyelash at him. It seemed too foolish, he knew this but he could not stop himself.

He rubbed at his tired eyes, these last few weeks, sleep had not come easily or quickly to him and he bore dark circles to prove this point. He sighed and looked out across Edoras to the plains beyond. Perhaps it would pass if he just kept burying the feelings deep within himself… they would be forgotten, they would…

He turned suddenly at a sound behind him, the noise breaking his thoughts. Aedre stood before him a smile playing upon her lips and a small plate within her hands, upon which was a cake very similar to the one he had bought her upon his last return. The flowers were not blue but violet in colour.

"What is this?" he asked, finally remembering to smile.

She gestured for him to take the plate which he gladly did. Éomer studied the bun carefully - apart from the colour of the sugared flowers it seemed exactly the same.

"Did you make this?"

Aedre indicated with her thumb and index finger.

"Only a little," he replied, understanding her meaning well. "You helped Sunniva?"

She nodded eagerly.

Éomer took a small bite out of the bun, it was quite different in taste to the one he had returned with, nevertheless it was still delicious.

"It's good," he declared grinning. "Well done Aedre."

Aedre smiled in return, her eyes sparkling with pride.

He finished eating the cake quickly before turning his attention back to the window.

"It's almost summer already," he stated.

Aedre walked up beside him and looked out across the plains, inhaling some of the sweet grass scented air which held promises of a warm and pleasant few months ahead.

Éomer glanced down with a low sigh and tentatively Aedre reached out and touched him lightly upon his arm, he met her gaze with his own and saw the concern lurking behind her eyes, asking him silently if he was ill.

"I'm quite well," he said, trying to smile.

Aedre gestured to the plains.

"Yes, perhaps a ride would do me good," he said, watching her a little longer than he had intended. He indicated that she could leave him which she dutiful obeyed leaving Éomer with no more peace than when he had first entered the room.

//

Aedre stood upon the stairs of Meduseld. Night had gathered over the city below and her chores for the day were at an end, the fresh air swept away the stuffy feeling of the kitchens, clearing her mind and cooling her skin. She gave a small smile as she thought over her days living here and how different things were, she felt at peace, at home. Sunniva had become her family in a way, perhaps what she wished her own mother to be; and Éomer King, although a great man - ruler of all she saw now and beyond, was kind and not the cruel man she had once thought him to be. That night at the feast a year ago seemed to have no merit in her mind; it seemed as if it had all been a strange dream, as did her life with the Orcs. For better or worse she found the hardships, the beatings, the harshness that she had once lived through were fading and becoming dimmer, the memories now nestled at the back of her mind. She knew they would never fully leave her - that they would forever awaken her in the darkest part of the night with feelings of panic and terror, yet she only need look around her little room to know that it was in the past, that she was safe.

Aedre closed her eyes as a soft breeze swept past her, ruffling her unbound hair. Still she did not feel all was well, she felt somehow empty despite it all. She watched the young serving maids meeting their men in the kitchens or upon the steps, embracing them with passion, kissing them, the happiness shining through their faces and Aedre could not help but feel she wanted to feel whatever it was that made them shine so brightly, that made them sing as they worked. Sunniva had tried her best to explain what love was, but Aedre did not understand the concept, it was strange to her, yet still she wanted it, wanted to know what it felt like. But the looks upon a few of the young men's faces when being introduced to Aedre were not comforting, they were polite but their eyes held a morbid fascination, studying her for too long with a slight sneer. She knew what it was they saw, the Golden Hall had its many mirrors and her reflection had not disturbed her at first, after all she had seen herself in pools of water before, but now she had people to compare herself to, girls with pretty rose blushed faces, smooth and perfect compared to her marred features…

At the thought she raised her hands to her face, feeling the raised skin beneath her fingers. She thought it would be best to accept her fate, after all should she not be glad she had a warm, loving home, a place she belonged and was wanted? What was anything else compared to that?

She glanced up at the sky, a light rain had begun to fall and she allowed the soft, cold droplets to fall upon her upturned face for a moment while drawing her shawl further about her shoulders.

A slight scrape of footsteps upon stone caused her to turn quickly; Éomer King came to an abrupt stop as she came into his line of sight. He was dressed casually and from the expression upon his face he had not expected to encounter anyone upon his late night walk.

He seemed to hesitate a moment before walking a little further out into the rain where she already stood.

"Aedre," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "I thought I would visit Firefoot as I could not sleep..." He paused, "what are you doing out here so late at night?"

Aedre gave a small shrug.

"Are you alright?" he took a step forward, his brow creasing in concern. "You seem upset."

Aedre did not understand his meaning until she suddenly became aware that the wetness upon her cheeks was not just rain, she wiped hurriedly at her tears before nodding and trying to smile.

"Why don't you go back inside?" he said uncertainly, it was quite obvious that he did not know what else to say. "It is raining," he gave a glance at the sky as the rain became slightly heavier.

Aedre gave a larger smile and turned her face back up to the rain letting it splash her skin slightly before turning back to him.

He gave a hushed laugh. "Yes, I suppose the rain can chase away all ill feelings," he turned his own face up and enjoyed the sensation for a moment before again returning his gaze to her. The rain had left large droplets upon her hair that glistened in the torchlight. Her dark eyes were upon him, a small smile in reward to his actions of joining her in the childish game.

"Why don't you come to the stables with me?" he blurted before he could check himself.

Aedre's smile fell a little but she regained it quickly and gave a single nod of her head in reply. He led the way down the steps, heeding her to be careful as the rain had made the stairs slippery. The stables were quiet, the sounds of horses snorting a little reached their hearing as they approached, and the warm musty smell of hay and horse flesh brought back comforting memories to both of them.

Éomer quickly lit a small torch and hung it upon a bracket before making for the stall he knew was Firefoot's. The beautiful steel grey stallion gave a whinny at seeing his master and friend, he gladly stretched out his neck for a good scratch.

Aedre watched from nearby as Éomer talked quietly to the animal in old Rohirric, his admiration for his faithful steed apparent.

"Come," he said, not turning to look at her but indicating to her over his shoulder.

Aedre obeyed and quickly came to his side.

"Stroke his nose," he instructed.

Aedre raised her hand, the nervous feeling that she felt so rarely these last few months rearing once again, the horse gave a snort and she drew back with a start.

Éomer gave a chuckle before taking her hand in his and reaching once more for Firefoot. Aedre's palm came into contact with the soft plush feeling of the animal's muzzle, it felt like fine velvet to the touch. Éomer gently moved her hand so that she carefully stroked Firefoot's nose. Finally feeling a little more at ease she turned and grinned at the man that still held her hand, before turning her attention back to the horse. Without a word Éomer slowly pulled her hand away, bringing her palm to rest lightly against his breast, he enclosed her small fingers with his own as she studied him questioningly.

Slowly he reached out his free hand and brushed the damp hairs away that still clung to her cheeks, allowing the back of his hand to brush against her skin. She flinched slightly at the contact, her eyes again searching his, silently asking him to speak, to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the scene, but Éomer found his mind could think of no words to voice. The urge to press his lips against hers, to see if anything of substances lay within his tangle of feelings overwhelmed him. He moved forward, again his actions slow, non-threatening, until he was stood mere inches away from her. Aedre looked up into his face a sudden strange feeling sweeping through her, like a tremor, her heart seemed to beat harder within her chest at his closeness.

She could hear his breaths, soft and rushed as if his heart too could not keep a steady pace. He leaned in, his face coming to hers. He hesitated, their eyes locking for a moment, before he seemed to decide upon his actions and his lips pressed softly against hers. The kiss was fleeting and he pulled back again to look at her, she did not move although it was not fear that kept her rooted to the spot, what it was and why she did not recoil she could not fathom… yet she did not want to leave this moment…

Again he bent, his lips pressing once more against her own, lingering a moment before retreating an inch and dipping once more for another soft kiss and another. His arms came to encircle her, gently pull her to him as his mouth took full possession of hers in a heated embrace. His tongue found the seam of her lips, dwelling a moment, tasting her before slipping inside turning the kiss into something of raw passion. He heard a low gasp escape her and then her small hands were pushing lightly against his shoulders, he broke their lips apart and pulled back to look upon her.

Her wide eyes bore confusion and unshed tears, she stared at him a moment, her lips parted as if she wished to speak, her eyes betraying the fact that she longed to unburden herself of deep seated fears and know the answer to many questions that would give her peace. Before he could say anything, or calm her panic of the unknown, she turned and broke into a run, her pace as quick as if the very Wargs of Isengard were at her heels. She fled the stables and him.

Chapter Text

Aedre's feet quickly took her away from Éomer. Her thoughts were muddled, some seemed to scream at her making her head ache, and a strange feeling of panic wound around her heart, strangling, tightening and fuelling the anxiety that clutched, clammy and threatening at her mind.

The rain had abated to a soft drizzle but it had fallen hard enough to make the pathways muddy and uneasy to tread upon. She stopped a moment, her eyes taking in the city below, the Golden Hall behind her and small dwellings to either side of where she stood. She took an uncertain step forward towards the stone stairs and Meduseld and her courage faltered, she could not do this… Her mind could not comprehend this situation; it jeopardized everything she thought she knew. Perhaps it would be best to do what she had dwelt lightly upon doing many a cold night - going back out into the wilds. This time there would be no Orcs to hurt her, she could find a cave, a place she could be alone and live alone without feeling like she was not amounting to anything, where she would not be confused by other's actions. She gritted her teeth in distress, her mind whirring and finally without much thought going into her actions she turned from the stairs to the path leading down to the gates. She ran, her legs taking her forward, the mud splashed cold and wet up her calves, slowing her pace but still she laboured, determined not to falter.

She heard faintly the sound of someone calling her name behind her but she did not stop or turn, she continued her descent, her mind focused solely upon the gates. It seemed mere moments before they were looming before her, dark and ominous, questioning her choice, and her heart fluttered in fear. In truth she knew outside these walls no better than she knew within. Both were alien and both would have difficult obstacles, her mind screamed for her to think, but Aedre refused, it was too late to think.

A night watch man quickly stood as she approached. He was large with a rounded belly. His hair was the colour of old straw, faded and thinning. His beard covered most of his ruddy face and his dark blue eyes were keen and alert. He held a spear in his left hand and a sword hung from his belt. His armour was of light leather and his helm rested nearby upon a post.

"What's the matter girl?" he asked, concerned by the muddy strange girl before him who breathed hard from her flight.

Aedre shrank back a little and gestured to the small door to the side of the gate, trying to make it known that she wished to leave. The man seemed to get the gist of her actions and he frowned.

"I can't let you out of the city at his hour, not alone, it's dangerous girl."

Aedre tried again to gesture but her attempts were interrupted.

"Aedre!"

She turned to see Éomer only a few feet away, his clothing too was muddied as if he had sprinted after her.

"My Lord!" the night watch man said in surprise before bowing lowly.

"Dreng," Éomer said with a forced smile.

"Is everything well My Lord?" Dreng asked, glancing at Aedre who still panted slightly.

"Yes, there is no need to worry; the girl just lost her way." He moved over to where Aedre stood and wrapped a hand gently about her wrist. "We shall return to the hall, the weather feels as if it will get worse," Éomer commented softly, pulling Aedre into a walk as he began to make his way back up the path.

"Very good, My Lord," Dreng said unsurely, giving both of their backs a curious and wary look. But he did not allow his mind to dwell upon the fancies of kings, his night's work was still not finished and he resumed his watchful post.

Éomer led Aedre quickly back towards the hall, he stood at the steps and paused a moment, silently deciding his next move, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He swiftly turned away from the stairs and pulled Aedre back towards the stable. She did not struggle but allowed herself to be led… to what ends she wasn't sure… but none of the panic was there that she had felt the first time he had made her follow him. Her heart beat erratically in her chest, the result making her feel a little nauseous. Éomer led her into the stables once more and stepped into the concealing shadows where he knew in the darkness they could not be seen. He gave a last glance about them before turning to face her.

"What are you doing?" he hissed more gruffly than he would have wished.

Aedre avoided his gaze, her body remained still. Éomer gave a low sigh.

"Where did you think you would go?" he asked, still unable to shift the harshness within his tone. He found he was angry with her, angry that she wanted to go out of Edoras, where the likely outcome was hardship or death. He was angry because if this girl left and went where he could not follow, he could not protect her, if any hardship befell her he knew his heart would shatter and the burden of her life would bear heavy upon his shoulders… and he was wounded she had run from him, was he really such a monster to be feared?

Aedre gave a small glimpse up at him, trying hard to fight back the stinging tears that had suddenly appeared in her eyes, it was a losing battle and they spilled hot and wet onto her cheeks.

Éomer's expression softened at the sight, he reached up and gently stroked a few of the tears away with his thumb.

"You need not have run," he said tenderly, the anger melting easily at the sight of her sorrow. "I know I have given you reason to fear me… for that I am sorry… but…" He paused, his words stunted as if each time he wished to speak they were caught within his throat.

Aedre's eyes finally connected with his, within their depths lay an expression that told him of great sorrow, longing and need. It seemed to loosen his tongue a little and he pushed the last few words out.

"I would not hurt you," he breathed, the mere thought that she could think this of him pulled sickeningly at his stomach.

Aedre again found his eyes with her own and gave a slow certain nod, telling him silently she knew this to be so.

Éomer felt a sudden flood of relief course through his veins but once this blissful sensation had passed his brow once again settled into its familiar frown. "Then why did you flee?" He paused, he had never spoken so freely of his emotions and he found the task more difficult than he had warranted. "Do… do I not please you?" he asked, sounding like a young boy asking for approval to his own ears.

Aedre looked at him questioningly, her eyes studying his face intently as if by doing so she could uncover a hidden secret or answer. They stared at each other in silence for what seemed an age; the soft sound of rain pattering against the ground outside invaded their hearing.

Éomer shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if he had just bared a part of his very soul here in the dim, musty stables and the woman he had confided in remained mute. No gestures or actions were forthcoming to reassure him that he had not been foolish, that it had not all been in vain, that all his secret longings were met and mated with her own.

He gave a low sigh, suddenly feeling like a deluded half-wit by his actions and manners of the night, she was trying to tell him she had no interest, but the poor young girl had no idea how to let a king know she had no desire for him. He slowly backed away a few steps, his mind set upon this thought.

"I am… sorry," he said, his tone stating just how lowly he thought of himself. "I should have seen… please forgive me." He gave a small bow towards her without meeting her eyes and turned to go and be rid of the cloying dispirited feeling that enveloped him.

He took one step before he felt the rough, small hand grasp his arm, the weight of it hardly noticeable though his shirt. He came to a jerky stop and slowly turned to meet her once again. Aedre's eyes were cast downwards and slowly she released her grip upon him once she felt him turn.

Éomer could hear his breath harshly within his own ears as he waited for her to move, to do something… anything. With what seemed a great effort she turned her face up to his, her eyes asking him silently not to leave. Éomer felt his heart quicken within his chest.

"I…" he began, but Aedre silenced him with a quick movement of her hand, placing her small fingertips over his lips. She studied his face for a long moment as if only really just seeing it fully. With a nervous, trembling hand she let her fingers gently glide over his mouth to his cheeks, grazing his beard lightly, following the outline of his jaw, her eyes narrowed as if trying to understand a far flung mystery he held concealed from her. Her other hand came to join the exploration and Éomer closed his eyes at the sensation of her caresses. She let her fingers brush his hair away from his eyes and again examined him closely, her eyes flicking to each feature and lingering upon it, before moving to the next.

As this powerful man stood before her, his position so trusting and willing she felt a strange trembling sweetness pass through her body, making her feel as if all the hairs along her neck and arms were standing upon end. Slowly his hand came to cover one of her own, gently pressing her palm to his cheek, moving it to his mouth where he laid soft kisses against her skin.

Aedre felt again the sudden urge to recoil clutch at the core of her, the instinct to pull away was strong and for a moment she fought in silent battle with it before finally relenting and with a gentle pull she released herself from his grasp. Their eyes connected and the soft rain once again became the only sound between them.

Slowly she shook her head, her brow furrowed; now more than ever she wished that she could speak, to tell him why she recoiled, why she did not do as her heart seemed to wish her to do. It seemed its beat quickened whenever he looked at her in a certain way, praised her, touched her… She wished to ask him why this was and that she did not understand what was happening, but she desired bitterly to comprehend. She opened her mouth, closing her eyes tightly with effort but a low gurgle was all that she managed. He noticed her endeavour and placed a soft, warm hand upon her shoulder, his touch telling her it was alright, his eyes comforting her disappointment. They stayed in the stillness for what could have been an age.

"Aedre?" Éomer's voice, thick and deep broke the seemingly endless silence.

She glanced at him once again as he looked intently upon her, his hazel eyes seeing something few could gain a glimpse of shining out from within herself, something that Éomer felt a strange pride in uncovering.

"I understand…" he began, appearing to choose his words carefully, "that you do not fully know what it is you are feeling."

Aedre nodded eagerly, feeling a weight lift from her chest as the panic untwisted itself a little from her heart.

"I confess," he huffed with a small laugh, "I am somewhat confused myself." Éomer stroked his cheek absently. "I don't know what to tell you to ease your fears, though I see it clear enough within your eyes, I wish I could give you the answer you seek."

Aedre again gave a small nod that she understood his words.

"I am… unsure what it is we are both feeling, if indeed you do feel anything." His eyebrow rose as he spoke as if he was pondering upon the matter deeply.

Aedre did not respond, the words did not seem to be directed at her, more a mulling over of what was within his thoughts.

"I only know…" he paused again, his jaw becoming set, his attention returning to her, "that I dwell upon you more than I should, that I wish to spend my time with you and to know you feel the same way…" He started feeling once again like a foolish boy. He raised his eyes to hers, his gaze searching for a moment. "Do you feel anything for me?" he asked finally, his voice barely a whisper.

Aedre stared at him, a little taken aback by the question; she lowered her gaze, searching hurriedly for an answer. Even though she had felt her heart quicken, a warm glow within her stomach whenever his words were kind, she had never dwelt upon what they meant, what she felt. She furrowed her brow and finally glanced back up, her dark eyes holding his. His question was quite easy to answer it was the context of it she felt uneasy with, not fully understanding the meaning. Still he wished for an answer now, and she must give her king what he wished… a true answer to his question. Slowly she nodded uncertainly.

Éomer felt a small smile spread itself across his lips and his fingers brushed her cheek softly. She flinched slightly at the contact, her heart again beginning its strange erratic rhythm. He seemed to sense her unease and his fingers resumed a light caress.

"Beon gien hwon fugol," he soothed. "Beon gien." - (Be still little bird, be still)

His voice and manner eased her discomfort with the situation to a small degree. Again their eyes connected, both fully aware of how awkward the moment was. Slowly he bent his head towards hers; his lips brushed her own in the briefest of kisses before he pulled back, his gaze once more studying her, as again the music of heavy rain accompanied the moment.

Éomer grinned. "I know not what is to be done now." His voice was distracted as if he were stating this fact to himself. He gave a small glance to the stable entrance, his thoughts upon the people of Edoras, the occupants of the Golden Hall. To embark on anything with the girl now stood before him would mean many things that bore thinking over.

"Perhaps we should retire to the hall, the rain is worsening?" he said, his gaze lingering a moment upon the weather, but his thoughts were fixed upon leaving the moment between them as it was. He feared his emotions would become too strong and he would say or do something that was foolish, that would not only hurt himself in the eyes of the order of Rohan, but Aedre too.

"Come," he said without turning to look back at her. Aedre took a small step forward to begin to follow his ascent. She felt his warm hand seek her own, wrapping her small fingers within its gentle grasp. He turned and gave her a faint smile, his eyes telling her that his mind was currently elsewhere. Éomer pulled Aedre's shawl tightly around her shoulders and they began to make their way out of the stables and onto the rain drenched pathway leading up to the steps. The rain was heavy and they both hurried up towards the hall. Éomer's grip upon Aedre's hand did not falter and he aided her many times in keeping her footing on the slippery steps. By the time they had reached the dryness of the platform their clothing was soaked through. Éomer gave a small laugh as they regained themselves from their dash for cover.

He brushed the remaining raindrops from his shirt before turning to Aedre and doing the same to her skirts and arms. His eyes lingered over her face a moment as he gently smoothed down her hair, dispelling some of the clinging water. His hand came to rest leisurely upon her upper arms as he again moved slowly forward. Aedre waited patiently for the sensation of his mouth to brush against hers, fully expecting it and, in great surprise to herself, she wanted to feel his touch once more. This time his lips lingered a little longer, the kiss seemed sweeter somehow. He pulled back and gave a small bow before taking her hand in his own and pressing his lips against the back of her hand.

"Good night." He straightened up and gave her a knowing smile.

Éomer turned from her without another word and began to make his way towards the doors leading into the hall.

Aedre stood as if frozen in the moment, her hand still hovering in mid air. Finally she glanced over to the door, her brow furrowing. She could not make full sense of what had just happened but, as she allowed her thoughts to replay everything between herself and the king of Rohan, within her heart she knew it had perhaps been something good.

Chapter Text

When Aedre finally regained herself from the torrent of deep thoughts that whirled within her, she began to walk in unhurried steps back towards her small, quiet room.

She gave one last glance out towards the plains beyond the city of Edoras and watched the rain fall for a small moment. It was coming down hard and fast, soaking everything in its path and leaving large pools of water that would mean hard work for anyone having to labour up the muddy way on the morrow. Yet Aedre loved this rain with adoration, it had played its part in the occurrences of the night and for that she felt thankful to it in a fanciful way. She turned back to the heavy wooden doorway and slipped in through the smaller door cut into its bulk for daily access when no pomp was needed.

As she entered the great hall beyond, the warmth from the great fire that burned merrily in the centre instantly cloaked her in its enfolds of comfort. She breathed in deeply the bittersweet smell of the wood that crackled in the flames and let out a contented sigh... she was home.

She wandered further in, taking her time and feeling a little like she had been dazed. She remembered feeling dizzy and sick after being dealt a beating during her time with the Orcs but this was somehow different, not taking into account that there was of course no pain or lament along with the sensation. Her very mind felt light, as if she were floating somehow a few feet from the ground and she glanced down making sure that it was just a daydream. Her feet connected with the polished stone surface of the floor and she smiled to herself at having such a thought of folly. She found the feeling did not concern her, she felt oddly warm and contented and she wished to keep this emotion and not worry of the why's and where's in this small moment.

Aedre became acutely aware that the heavy rain from her dash with the King of Rohan had soaked through some of her clothing. Drips and beads of water that had found their way to her skin trickled a path down her arms and back and she closed her eyes as she walked with unfaltering steps, enjoying the cold sensation and remembering the press of his lips to her own.

//

The next morning Aedre found she was up earlier than normal. Sleep had not come easily after the events of the evening and she had finally fallen into a fitful stupor. She felt as though a tight ball had been knotted into her stomach, but it was not an unpleasant feeling, just a sensation that made her unable to keep still for any amount of time. She knew this feeling to some extent although it had not happened to her many times in her life. When the Orcs went on their raiding and morbid missions sometimes they had brought back fresh food, good food of cooked meats, sweet fruits and warm smelling bread. It was on these rare occasions she had felt excitement, the emotion akin to the feeling that everything could now be endured thanks to that one mercy, that one small joy. It was true she was not always given any, but the smell had warmed her soul and given her a small light of hope that flickered weakly somewhere deep inside, urging her to not give up. Without that small voice pushing her onwards, Aedre thought perhaps she would not be sat in the Golden Hall in this moment.

As she sat in her cosy room and brushed her long dark hair, Aedre glanced at herself in the crudely polished bronze plaque that served as mirror. She studied her face intently, turning it this way and that. Through the slightly wavered surface and golden toned depths of the plaque her scars were less noticeable and she allowed a small, shy smile to appear upon her lips. Perhaps her appearance was not as unacceptable to all as she had first imagined. As she sat in that small moment of realisation she could faintly still taste the succulent, sweet fruit that had been allowed to her that day with the Orcs so many years ago, but today felt as though it would be an even better day, a small flicker of hope was slowly growing into a flame.

She bound her hair into a simple twist and pulled on her clothing. Paying extra attention that her skirts were smoothed and the laces at her sides were tied with care before glancing at herself in the mirror once more. Once she had deemed herself acceptable she made for the door, knowing that Sunniva would already be awake and preparing food in the kitchens.

//

"It's a fine morn!" Sunniva announced as she entered the wonderfully smelling rooms.

Aedre smiled and nodded as she glanced up at the small hole in the thatched roof above them. She watched the smoke and steam from the many delicious cooking foods waft and curl upwards, disappearing into the vivid blue sky that streamed sunlight in and gave the room a merry glow.

Sunniva fetched a bowl of hot milk and oats mixed with honey and set it down before Aedre, passing the young girl a spoon as an afterthought.

"Summer is not in full bloom and already the sun is far too hot for me," she grumbled as she set back to her flurry of chores. It was not long before a few other serving women began to filter into the room ready for their morning meal and the work that lay ahead. Each helped themselves to a bowl of milk, oats and honey as well a good cup of watered down mead or ale.

Aedre ate her food in a daydream, her thoughts harking back to the evening before, she felt both apprehensive joy and fretfulness... what if when she saw him he no longer wanted to talk the long evenings away with her or press his lips to hers again? It wasn't long before Sunniva became aware that Aedre was more subdued than normal, the young girl's attention was not focused on all the gossip at the meal table as was normally the case.

"Aedre, girl, I don't think you are with the rest of us today," she suddenly said, interrupting the rest of the conversation at the table. Aedre seemed shaken from her thoughts and turned her face to Sunniva in question. Sunniva placed a hand upon the young girl's brow and narrowed her eyes trying to tell if any of her fears of illness were founded. "It doesn't feel like you have a fever but you are never this quiet." Sunniva paused as if catching herself after the words she had just spoken. "Well, what I mean is that you..." she began, knowing the others in the room did not understand her. "Well, I never think of you as mute, you talk so much with your eyes and hands..." she drifted off as some of the other women looked at her in puzzlement. The older woman knew it was hard for the others to understand, they did not spend as much time in Aedre's company and could not fathom that someone could communicate without spoken word.

Aedre gave a firm nod and gently removed Sunniva's hand with a warm smile, stating in that small gesture that she was very well.

"Ah well, it must be the weather," she said turning her attention back to the one thing that was annoying her. "The winters here are harsh and the summers are too humid for my liking."

Aedre smiled as the older woman busied herself once more, it seemed she stopped for only small snippets of time before she was again working upon something else, it was no surprise that she felt the heat worse than any of the others.

A tray was prepared for all the guests and nobles currently staying in the Golden Hall and one by one the other serving women took a tray that was assigned to them and went on their way. The King's tray was last to have food served upon it as his breakfast of poached honeyed fruits had taken a longer amount of time than any of the other simpler meals.

"Take this on to Éomer King, Aedre," Sunniva instructed with a distracted smile.

Aedre smoothed a hand over the top of her head making sure that all her hair was still in place before she picked up the tray and gaily set out to perform her task. As she reached the door to his chambers the ball in her stomach that had relented for all of her morning meal suddenly tightened. The sensation frightened her a little and she hesitated outside the large wooden door. She focused upon the intricate carvings that adorned it. Arches of vines and leaves intertwined to form the outline of a proud horse of Rohan pawing at the ground. The vines twisted and curled into the horse's frame creating a beautiful relief in dark wood that beckoned fingers to glide across it. Aedre allowed her free hand to reach up and touch the smooth, hard surface. She traced the outline, taking in each small detail and enjoying the sensation beneath her touch. A calming wave slowly swept over her from this act and she stilled herself enough to knock upon the door.

"Enter." The normal reply came and Aedre found she was dispirited by it. But she shook herself quickly, had she really expected something different... it seemed such a trivial thing to feel disappointment over.

She entered the room without further thought and saw that Éomer was sat in his large wooden chair by the unlit fire, his foot resting upon a small stool as he studied a weathered looking scroll. His eyes came to fix upon her and he abandoned the paper and stood in greeting, a grin slowly spread across his lips, giving him an air of youth and freedom. Aedre smiled shyly, unsure how to proceed after the night before now she found herself in his presence. She walked forward with her eyes cast down and placed the tray upon the usual table. She found she couldn't raise her eyes to meet his and her cheeks burned with an unpleasant sensation.

Éomer instantly sensed her unease and with great effort quelled the desire to wrap her in his arms and kiss her lips once again. The night before and its events may have occurred but it had been a small step, and now this path had been stepped onto slow, steady steps were needed and he knew he must lead the way and be a noble man.

"Come," he said with a warm smile gesturing to the comfortable fur rug before the fire, "sit with me for a short while."

Aedre's brow creased for a moment but seeming to decide that his request was not strange or unnerving she gave a small nod and sat down where he had bid her. Éomer fetched the tray from the table and then came to sit before her. He picked up the metal spoon and sliced into the baked apple taking a good amount of glistening honey with it.

"Have you eaten?" he asked suddenly and then inwardly cringed at the foolishness of the question. He wished to talk of the night before, her feelings and what it all meant for them both, but to bombard her with so much information was only likely to unsettle her.

Aedre nodded but glanced at the fruit with curious eyes, stating with that look that she wished to taste what he held.

Éomer chuckled; it seemed to have become something of a habit between them, sharing food and drink. "Here." He held out the spoon and brought it to her lips.

Aedre glanced up at him uncertainly and then her gaze drifted longingly back to the spoon and its sweet looking contents. She wetted her lips and looked back at him, he smiled encouragingly and gestured with his own mouth what he wished for her to do. Aedre slowly parted her lips and Éomer gently slipped the spoon inside. The taste was sweet and juicy and reminded Aedre of the delicious cyser she had drank in this very room on a cold winter's night. She closed her eyes for a moment enjoying the sensation before she felt him slowly removing the spoon and her gaze again fixed upon him.

Éomer smiled and took a spoonful for himself. "It is good?" he questioned.

Aedre gave a certain nod and Éomer let out another chuckle before offering her one more spoonful which she gladly took. He helped himself to a little more of his morning meal before turning his gaze to her. Éomer let out a huff of laughter, a large drop of honey clung to the corner of her lips, it was somehow an endearing sight. He abruptly moved forward meaning to wipe it away but the suddenness of his movement caused Aedre to flinch from his outstretched hand, her eyes widening in that same frightened animal stare he had seen so many times before. Éomer pulled back, his thoughts bringing to the forefront of his mind that he was to move slowly both physically and mentally. He again repeated to himself he could not just expect her to fall into his arms as other women had, nor did he want her to.

"I am sorry," he said, his voice gruff from his self reprimand. "I did not mean to startle you."

Aedre studied him for a long moment. She couldn't help that small flare of panic that descended over her in such situations, it was a part of herself that was so engrained that she had no control over it if the circumstances were unexpected. Yet still she lamented having to see that small glint of hurt that shone out from his gaze each time she pulled away, each time she shied from his touch.

She forced the swirl of panic down until it was just a burning ebb somewhere deep within. Still her heart continued its fast pace as she reached out and caught his hand with her own halting his retreat. She gave him a small smile and pulled him gently forward towards her, silently telling him to continue with what he had been about to do. Éomer smiled in reply and gently his fingers reached out and with his thumb he wiped away the glistening honey. But he found he could not pull his hand away from her, the feel of her soft skin beneath his touch was something he longed to linger upon. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair and press his palm to her cheeks, locking his lips to hers in a passionate kiss... but again the word reared in his mind... slowly.

As he drew himself out from his thoughts his gaze focused fully once again on the woman before him. Aedre had closed her eyes at his caress, her face was peaceful and at seeming ease with the situation. Éomer found that he could not prevent the draw towards her as he leaned slowly forward and allowed his lips to press briefly against hers. He pulled back to gauge her reaction but her eyes remained closed, her face still upturned to his, awaiting his next move. He dipped his mouth once again to hers allowing their lips to meet in a soft embrace. Again the kiss was sweet but more wanting, more demanding this time, speaking of the hints of passion that he held back forcedly.

Aedre's hands came up to his cheeks and briefly her finger tips traced the outline of his jaw until her hands came to a gentle rest upon his shoulders. Éomer placed his hand upon her back but made no move to pull her closer as his lips worked over hers in the pure, chaste kiss that for now he would not allow to go any further. He would not risk the chance of her running from him again, he did not think he could bear the thought of losing her.

Chapter Text

As the weeks passed Éomer and Aedre found excuses to meet more than normal. They would sit and talk or sometimes kiss, if Aedre was inclined. The kisses were always brief and sweet and she found more and more with each press of his lips that she did not mind his closeness or flinch and recoil if he touched her. It was true he was always slow and careful, telling her with expressions and hesitant movement that he wished to caress her cheek, arm or enclose her hand in his. After the initial shock of such attention Aedre began to relish the feel of his warm, strong hand wrapped about her own, the sensation made her feel safe and protected. Sometimes she would feel brave enough to allow him to encircle her in his arms as they kissed, the heightened closeness both thrilled and scared her. Never in her life had she allowed someone so near to her, willingly at least.

Their conversations were mostly one sided as was normal but how she loved to hear him talk. His voice had a roughness to it when he was annoyed and a strong yet smooth tone when he spoke sweet words to her. She enjoyed each slight variation in tone and could soon read without much thought what kind of mood he was currently in. If it was a foul mood she would sit quietly and listen as he ranted and bellowed, but once he had calmed he would come and sit by her on the large fur rug. Aedre would gently remove any stray hairs that had fallen into his face which always seemed to accompany such outbursts and with glancing caresses allow the back of her hand to glide over his cheeks until he had regained his better self. He would laugh then, sweetly and warmly and press her hand to his lips, kissing the palms until she pulled away with a musical chuckle.

On some occasions he would talk of his family. The father he had lost to battle and the mother who had passed with a broken heart. Aedre found that she could not fathom this woman's thoughts, how could she have left this man alone? Was the love for him not enough to keep her tired heart beating? If he made her heart beat as willingly as Aedre's own then she could see no reason to give up that feeling, if this was indeed what was spoken of in tender tones, 'love.' But Aedre would listen as she always did, silent and willing, the perfect partner to voice secret emotions and thoughts, her expression passive and holding a light of wonderment in her eyes as he talked.

Éomer began to question just how he had stayed sane and calm without her by his side. Just a mere look was often enough to still his gruff anger and soothe his soul, making his thoughts and options become clear once again. Her expression never judged, scolded or reprimanded but nor did she agree like some braying serving maid only wanting to please and gain favour. He was able to see a path through his obstacles and each day brought a kindling of renewed hope and vigour for the tasks ahead of him, the confidence in his own abilities grew and the chores he had to endure seemed like a mere trifle if he could behold her face at the end of it all.

He turned to her as the warm summer breeze gave a gentle rush of relief after the humid day. The candles were all lit about the room casting a warming glow to the surroundings. Aedre sat happily by the empty fire engaged in the new work of writing Sunniva had given her. Her hard stone pallet that she wrote upon in a white chalk stick had been a gift from himself and was far easier to find than parchment. Carefully she copied out the words Sunniva had written upon the stone earlier in the day, her hunger for learning apparent in her expression of concentration. Éomer watched her intently for a moment, noticing the way the shadow and light cast about the room fell over her features and body, hiding some from view and illuminating others.

As if sensing his eyes she looked up from her work and smiled at him, perceiving from his wistful air that he wished for her to stop her work and focus upon him. She set aside her work before placing her hands in her lap and waiting for him to voice what was upon his mind. Éomer smiled, it seemed as if she could read him easily.

"Are you finished with your work?" He asked not wanting to have interrupted her too much.

Aedre gave a small incline of her head and nodded, stating that she had finished all she wished to do tonight. He smiled at her again and beckoned for her to join him, she gladly came to stand beside him at the open windows and inhaled deeply the sweet scent of wild flowers that drifted from the fields beyond the city. He hesitated a moment before taking a few steps to stand behind her, the action was slow and deliberate and Aedre felt no ball of panic. As if judging her reaction with each movement he let his hands cover her own and brought them up to the level of her chest as he bent gently over her shoulder. He studied her small hands in his larger ones for a moment, his fingers glancing lightly over her flesh, feeling the soft bumps that spoke of untold suffering and strength. Éomer smiled at the thought, so few people would see the thin dark eyed girl as strong, to the unknowing eye she seemed timid, broken and fragile but he saw past that veil to the heart and spirit beneath. Perhaps in some ways she was indeed bruised and cut, perhaps these wounds would never fully heal but she was not broken, beyond repair or useless. She had survived what many could not even come to imagine in their worst haunted sleep and yet she stood still. Éomer knew she had fought long and hard to reach the place she now resided.

He raised her hands slowly up until they were outstretched and pressed palm to palm with his own. She allowed him his small game, pandering to his inner thoughts and monologue that she knew must be running through his head causing his actions. Finally he allowed their hands to fall back limply to the side, still covering hers with his.

"The stars are bright tonight," he mumbled softly into her ear.

Aedre gave a small nod and allowed her eyes to linger over the bejewelled sky. Marvelling at how the pretty twinkling lights seemed to pulse and shine with a rhythm of their own. They watched together for a moment enjoying the beauty and stillness of a night cloaked city. The horses could be heard far off in the direction of the stables and the soft sound of a fiddle drifted upon the breeze, probably from a nearby tavern, its player entertaining the evening's revellers partaking in a well earned ale in reward of their labours of the day.

No other words were needed between them. Éomer tenderly turned her to face him and parting his lips, slightly bent towards her. They both yielded willingly as the soft strength of the kiss engulfed them in the sweet comfort of its embrace.

//

The time trickled by and Éomer enjoyed the secret courtship, his thoughts never strayed too far into meaning or consequences, what did such pensive sombre thoughts bring but unhappiness? For the time being he wanted to only think of the joyous side his life had yielded, all other pondering could wait. For the first time for many years, Éomer the King of Rohan felt truly at peace with himself and his surroundings.

Many feasts were held in the Golden Hall in celebration of completed small villages and victories in battle against the Wild Men and Orcs. Whenever he returned, battle tired and saddle sore it was her gaze he wished to feel upon him, her gentle hand to wash the toil from his skin and to sit in the quiet evening enjoying a cup of mead as he regaled tales of his journeys. The feast held on this night was one for warriors and men of note. Aedre,as normal flitted about from table to table serving what was needed as Éomer watched her from his seat pretending to listen to those around him. His hand tightened upon his tankard of ale more than once as he saw her flinch away from the more rowdy of men, but he was thankful that none reached out to grab or harass her, even he could not have kept up the pretence that she was no more than a serving woman in that occurrence. Finally she was given leave to take some time of rest by another girl and Aedre gladly accepted the offer. She walked from the large hall towards the corridors, her eyes flicking to his in only the merest brief glance. Éomer set his drink down upon the table and made to follow.

Gamling caught his arm causing him to start at the contact. "My King where are you going?" he grinned a little drunkenly, "we have not even begun to drink yet."

Éomer's brow furrowed in annoyance at being slowed in his task but he quickly regained himself. "I have no taste for ale tonight, my friend. I wish for some air, it has become too hot in this hall."

Gamling laughed gruffly. "Well, if you have no taste for it, I am worried indeed."

Éomer laughed in return. "I shall soon be back, you will not miss me."

"Aye that is true." Gamling said with a grin before he returned to his drink and conversation.

Éomer quickly left the great hall and entered the shadowed, dim corridor. It suddenly hit him that this was the same corridor he had met Aedre on all those long months ago. He shook the dark feeling from his mind, disliking the images it conjured inside his thoughts.

His eyes quickly saw a silhouetted figure standing not too far from him. It was if she had expected him to follow, or perhaps wanted him to. He walked up to her and gave a glad grin as Aedre's face came into focus in the gloom.

"It has been two days since we were last alone," he breathed, his voice bearing a note of huskiness.

Aedre gave a small nod, her hand coming out to press against his breast, stating in that gesture that she too had felt the sharp pang of separation. Éomer covered her hand and moved in closer to claim her lips once again as his own. He pulled back and studied her face, running his fingertips across her cheek as the sweet melodies of music being played in the hall seeped into the dark corridor. The tune was sweet and held sad tones concealed, played on fiddle and lute. Softly Éomer began to hum along to the words that the singer sang, his hums turning into low words.

'Aye and fair you are my sweetest maid,
So deep my love for you,
And I will love you, my sweetest maid,
'Till battle bears me home again.
Your tears shall dry,
Your heart will mend,
And the distance will be so far,
But forget me not my only love,
For I will love you my sweetest maid,
Until we meet again.
The battle mound is my only claim,
My memory your only prize,
As the sands of life slip away,
Your smile bears me home once again,
As I take my rightful seat,
My pride is shadowed,
For I will miss you my sweetest maid,
Forget me not my sweetest love,
For I will love you my only maid,
Until we meet again.'

Éomer briefly kissed Aedre again once his song was done and smiled, moving a little away from her.

"I should go back into the hall," he said his voice bearing heavily the fact that he wished to stay, but Aedre smiled and nodded. Éomer held onto her hand until he was no longer in reach and then he made his way back the way he had come.

"Aedre?"

The unexpected voice startled Aedre from her thoughts and she looked into the face of Sunniva. The older woman carried a flagon of Mead and could not have been stood there long. Her expression was strangely stiff and unkindly, it seemed to have no rightful place upon the older woman.

"Get back to work," she said, the stiffness also present within her voice.

Aedre bowed her head unsure what she had done to offend her mentor but without questioning Sunniva's words she made her way quickly to the kitchens to fetch another vessel of drink to serve.

//

Edoras enjoyed a rare, beautiful and glorious summer. The people of the great city were overjoyed to have such mild and pleasant weather and many partook their meals outside in the warm breeze that was so uncommon on the plains.

Music and dances were held on a flat clearing of land outside the gates of the great city. Tents that were usually used for warfare and long journeys were erected and gaily decorated with colourful cloth and flowers. Cushions were used as seating and food of pork and lamb was roasted over a large fire by the cooks of Meduseld and women of the city. It seemed everyone was leaving their day of work to celebrate on this occasion. The Golden Hall's own musicians had already struck up a tune and many tapped their feet or clapped their hands in time with the drum beats.

Aedre stood beside Sunniva as the older woman turned a large piece of meat over the fire basting it with fatty juices every now and again to keep the food succulent. It had been a strange morning, a strange few days. Sunniva normally so kindly and warm had seemed to drift, becoming distant and sharp. Perhaps it was the heat as she so often said, but Aedre could not help the small knot of worry that linked it to herself, to something she had done. That morning as Sunniva had dressed Aedre's hair into a decorative braid and a colourful ribbon that hung down her back in a comely way, the normally talkative woman was silent, her lips pursed and a permanent frown marring her handsome features.

Not having much work to complete herself, Aedre finally left her elder to the task of roasting the meat and avoiding the larger crowds of people gathered, wandered around the joyous festivities. Many happy faces met her gaze, each encased in their own little drama or comedy, laughter rose high and melodious into the air. To Aedre's ears the soft, low drum beats mingled sweetly with an instrument she was vaguely familiar with, it looked like a flute but was played with the mouth piece placed fully into the mouth and not positioned at an angle. The notes it played were long, nasal and vibrating conjuring up images of far flung places yet to be explored. She stood transfixed by the young man who played it, not a musician of the hall but a handsome youth just come of age to ride alongside his father and the other warriors of Edoras. She swayed a little enjoying the music, the warmth of the day and the aromas that invaded her senses.

A soft brush against her clasped hands that rested behind her made Aedre jump inwardly and she glanced fretfully over her shoulder but her heart and body relaxed as she saw a familar man with flaxen hair meet her gaze with his own hazel eyes. He gave a small smile that only lifted up one corner of his mouth and motioned with his eyes that he wished her to follow him.

Aedre waited for a moment allowing him to walk a little ahead before she followed. Although she did not understand the whys or reasons as to keeping what they did in his chambers and the corridors hidden from all eyes but their own, she knew it pleased him, and this was enough of a cause. She admitted inwardly that she did feel pangs of guilt not telling Sunniva, after all they shared all the happenings of their days with each other. But Éomer had told her that to speak of their time together would only cause unhappiness for them both and she had no reason to doubt his words.

She turned her attention back to the present and followed Éomer towards the back of the tent. She saw him give a few careful glances about him, hardly noticeable to those not looking at him directly and seeing that all around them were engrossed in their own business he took the last few steps that hid him from view and Aedre joined him. As she rounded the corner his hand came to cover hers and he pulled her gently into his arms, holding her close for a moment and Aedre allowed the contact. Since their last meeting in the corridor on the night of the great feast their time together had been brief, as Éomer found guests and work in abundance. They snatched moments here and there but it was sometimes only a few words, a touch, a glance. She missed him as she had never missed another being and the closeness seemed right, fitting somehow to celebrate the event of their meeting.

Slowly he pulled back and gave her a small smile. "Have you been well?" he asked in a low voice.

Aedre nodded eagerly but without her pallet she could not describe in any great detail her days or the events that had occurred. Not that any of it was of great importance, the most interesting thing had been that, Guene, another serving maid had spilt a whole bucket of ewe's milk all over herself, her clothes still seemed to hold a soured smell. Aedre did not see the events of her life any less important than Éomer's. She knew of rank, obeyed what was asked of her by her betters and elders and respected those she knew to be above herself and although she grasped all the concepts she did not understand that others were better than some, these thoughts were not present in Aedre's mind, only the duty she had to perform.

"I hate not being able to see you," Éomer said his brow furrowing before he pressed his lips to hers in a brief, sweet kiss. "Come away with me today?" His face seemed to light up as if this wonderful thought had only just made itself known to him.

Aedre looked up at him, her eyes stating that she was unsure. She glanced back the way they had come, knowing Sunniva would worry if she was missing for too long.

"Sunniva will not miss you," he said sensing her thoughts with ease. "We shall only be gone for an hour, perhaps two. We will be back before anyone knows we have departed," he cajoled.

Aedre again looked up at him with uncertain eyes and her hand gently squeezed his arm, pulling his attention back to her once more. She gestured with her head towards Edoras, asking if they were to go back to the Golden Hall. Éomer grinned and shook his head.

"No, no halls, no nobles, no serving maids today," he said excitedly. "We shall ride out and finally be alone."

Aedre furrowed her brow at him, asking him silently had they not already been alone many times.

Éomer gave a small laugh. "No, not here. Here we are never alone."

He saw her hesitate, a slight wave of panic rippled across her features.

"You will be safe with me little Aedre, are you always not so?"

Aedre gazed up into his face, her eyes skimming his features and finally she nodded.

Chapter Text

Éomer and Aedre were easily able to slip away, leaving the sounds of merriment far behind them as they made their way back to the front gates of Edoras and into the silent city, out of sight from all but the watchful silent guards that stood in solemn sentinel, their eyes focused upon duty and their lips sealed in an oath of loyalty to their King and all he deemed to do.

They passed quickly up the steep slope towards the Golden Hall and turned into the welcoming cool shadow of the stables. All but a few of the horses had been taken out to pasture. Firefoot pawed the ground in excited anticipation at the sight of his rider. Éomer deftly and expertly saddled his grey stallion with ease and before long the animal was ready to bear them both to wherever they desired. Éomer guided Firefoot out of his stall and into the stable yard, the soft sound of hoof falls echoed off the cobbled stone.

"We shall not travel far." Éomer said turning to Aedre. "He will happily bear us both." He absently stroked Firefoot's muzzle.

Aedre looked up at the great grey animal with timid eyes. It had been a long time since she had been upon a horse and the thought of it frightened her despite the fond memories such journeys now held deep within her remembering. Sensing her hesitation, Éomer took her hand in his and brought it up to caress Firefoot's soft coat. Aedre felt a pleasant jolt of remembrance at the warmth of his hand guiding hers over the animal's velvet soft hair, harking back to the day they had first started along the path they now walked hand in hand. She looked up into the face of the man before her, studying his handsome features, the strong turn of his jaw and his eyes which bore kindness and warmth. His presence swayed her reluctance and she knew all would be well. Her eyes drifted to the long, heavy sword which rested against his thigh, encased in intricately engraved leather, the design reminded her of the pattern which adorned the door to his chambers.

Finally she nodded her head certainly, stating that she was ready. Éomer first helped Aedre into her seat before he swung himself up into the saddle behind her with one fluid movement. Once he was seated his strong arms encircled her and his hands grasped the reins. Éomer gently pushed his heels into Firefoot's sides and the horse began to move, a slow walk at first gaining in speed until they rode at a stiff trot.

They made their way down the path towards the gates. Blue sky and warm sunlight bathed the expanse of land laid out before them, seeming to make the greens and yellows of shrub and grass startlingly vivid and the sight greeted them gladly into the freedom of the plains. As Firefoot's hooves touched the soft grass laden ground beyond Edoras, Éomer felt the rush of emotion he so loved. Whenever he rode, leaving all duties and troubles behind him, a joy seemed to bubble somewhere deep inside of him. It was raw, strong and in a strange way violent, like the thrill of riding into battle but different still, purer in its intent upon the spirit. He tried to hold back the urge to push his mount onwards, knowing that the act may disturb the woman wrapped safe within his arms but the excitement of the moment was overpowering and he wished for her to experience the emotions that beat hard and firm within his breast. He gave the extra push, whispering something harshly to Firefoot. The stallion did not need any further encouragement and sprang into a swift gallop.

Aedre gave out a small whimper of surprise at the sensation and her own hands came to grasp at Éomer's arms in surprise and uncertainty. She clutched onto the sleeves of his shirt as the powerful, muscular animal spirited them both across the ground at an alarming speed. But Éomer's closeness and the arms that kept her huddled to him did not falter and soon she relaxed, becoming accustomed to the bumps and movements, although in all honesty to her own mind she would have wished to not be riding along at such a speed. She focused her attention upon the surroundings that flew past them, the sights of hills and mounds along with the odd tree and large boulder distracting her from looking down and the ball of panic grasping at her once again.

After they had ridden a little while in this fashion Firefoot slowed to a canter and the journey became all the more bearable for Aedre to endure. Her hands relaxed their grip upon Éomer's arms, soon the animal was doing no more than a leisurely walk and a comfortable silence fell over them both.

Éomer easily picked his way through the tall grasses following a small path that had long since become overgrown. They continued around a large rock face to a small clearing that was encased in a semi circle of rock. The grass seemed shorter inside this place, dotted with sweet smelling flowers and the slight scent of wet earth.

They came to a stop and Éomer dismounted before his hands wrapped around Aedre's waist and he aided her to the ground. He secured Firefoot to an old dead branch that had once belonged to a tall, strong tree, long since withered and fallen.

Aedre looked around the small clearing, her eyes glancing over the details. The damp aroma, she discovered, was coming from drips of water that seemed to spring from the very rock itself. It trickled across shining looking stone and blooms of green moss to finally form into a small pool encased by large jaggedly cut boulders. It was not a natural container but a man made well to hold the fresh water the rock bore forth. The space was so open, not like the enclosure of Edoras and the Golden Hall, she had not been in such a place for a long time... even upon Firefoot she had felt sheltered, but this was so open and her mind flashed up the idea that hiding places from danger would be few.

Then it came like a great wave, covering her mind and senses. A deep feeling of dread and foreboding which she tried to push back but her heart seemed to have sensed her mind and had begun a strange sickening rhythm within her chest. From where the feeling came or why, she could not fathom, but she suddenly felt as if she were in grave danger. The very ground before her seemed to waver, bend and curl, distorting her vision and making her feel as though she had begun to gently sway, as if she were part of the tall grasses they had passed through, ruffled by a unpleasant breeze.

Éomer had been talking to her as he deftly completed his task of fetching some sweet tasting honey bread and her pallet from his saddlebag, he let out sighs of pleasure at his surroundings and the beautiful summer's day, his tone soothing to all those that were able to hear it... but Aedre heard none of it, only the deafening beat, beat, beat from within herself, unceasing and dreadful. She stood as if frozen, the sound swelling within her ears making her feel as if her very head would break apart if it did not soon desist. She wished to cover her ears, to let out a cry of distress but her limbs were leaden and useless, only her fingers spasmed with the effort. She could hear beneath the roar of her own torment, a crashing sound, water... waves, the pounding of a great body of water on a cold and stormy night. Then the screams pierced her hearing, horrendous and terrible, the dreadful cries that were made as the life was forcibly wrenched from the body through a violent act. Arms encircled her, pulling her close to a warm body and she would have felt safe if the woman who held her hadn't been tremoring with fear, it seemed the emotion could be smelt in the air, sour and pungent, mingling with the salty aroma that was always present.

"They come." A gruff voice said but she dared not look at the speaker, at anything but the large wooden door, her wide eyes were fixed upon it as her little heart fluttered within her chest. She feared she would be sick, she didn't want to dirty her own clothes, she was always scolded when she soiled her clothes or spilt food upon herself...

A sudden gut wrenching bang made all in the room cry out. The collective sound of so many people magnified the panic and some of the women began to scream, the sound high and hysterical. Another bang at the door was accompanied by a strange, sickening, churning crunch of wood and a blade glinted in the moonlight through fresh splinters...

'Yes,' she thought... 'they come...'

The screams had doubled in volume as the stinking dark shapes tore through the door and invaded the room. Gurgles and strange strangling noises reached her ears as blades swung in the darkness ending their terrible force with a strange thump and then people were falling, falling down to the ground, glassy eyed and bloodied. Scared beyond understanding Aedre ran, towards the door and out into the rain soaked village, her sight distorted by the heavy, hard droplets of water. The crashing of waves was louder here, disorientating...

Her consciousness was so overwhelmed that she did not hear him coming up behind her nor was she expecting the hand that came to lay softly upon her shoulder, instead her mind flashed up an image, a twisted ugly face with rotting teeth and malicious eyes with only death and pain upon its wicked mind. They'd come back to claim her after all this time, rising back from their resting place of thick black blood and broken limbs in that dank cave, grasping, wanting and vengeful. They always found her...

Aedre's senses kicked in from pure survival instinct alone. She gave out a strangled scream and turned, her nails dragging through flesh, causing fresh blood to ooze in their wake. She did not tarry but turned her head seeking escape, knowing she must flee if she valued her life, her eyes blurred by panic and fear to see anything clearly within or without. She stumbled backwards, huffs and whimpers of alarm coming from her lips. She felt as if she could just get to somewhere safe, somewhere that covered her, surrounded her, she would be safe and all the dangers that now seemed to hunt her would disappear. She wanted to call out, to scream Éomer's name, she knew he was still with her somewhere... wasn't he? But her mind would not focus long enough for her to fully settle on that matter, the fear was too much.

She continued her awkward flight until her heel came upon an unexpected rock and her balance was lost. She toppled over backwards and connected with the ground with a heavy thud. A pain shot up her back from the impact but she ignored it, instead instantly struggling once more, pushing herself backwards but her hysterical struggles were brought to an abrupt stop by hands that held her fast not allowing her any leeway. She gave out a strange mewling of protest the hysteria complete... they'd caught her, it was done... it was done...

"Aedre!" The voice was harsh, gruff and demanding. "Stop, Aedre!" She was shaken sharply, the rough action bringing some of her senses back to her.

She looked up seeing clearly for the first time only Éomer before her, no Orc bore down upon her. The storm drenched village bathed in sickly moonlight was gone and the summer's day greeted her along with the pleasant clearing. She looked about them wildly; still certain that they were here, that she had seen the foul creatures, perhaps they now stalked through the pretty glade? Finally she looked up into the man's face who held her. His brow was furrowed in anger and confusion. Their eyes connected, her desperate look speaking of bewilderment and doubt, beseeching him to explain what had just happened. Éomer forcefully pushed the hair out of her face, unable to keep his own anger from flickering within his actions.

"What is wrong?!" He asked frantically, wanting to understand her sudden outburst, an act that had seemed so out of character for the sweet natured girl that he could only assume she had been struck by a fleeting madness.

Aedre's breaths slowed, her eyes still darting across their surroundings. Finally Éomer felt she was calm enough to leave her and fetch the pallet from where it had fallen. He pushed the object into her numb hands and held out the chalk before her. "Tell me." He instructed bringing her own gaze to his, stilling it from the rapid search.

Aedre scribbled hurriedly upon the black surface, her nerves showing within her penmanship. She finally turned the board over to him, and Éomer read the shaky scrawl upon it. He furrowed his brow as his mind made sense of the misspelled words.

"Them."

"Bad."

"Here"

Éomer looked back at her before again studying the writing. He shook his head. "I do not understand," his tone was full of frustration; despite the fact he had willed it to be smooth and kindly.

Aedre took the pallet back and re-read her writing her own brow creasing at the useless words. She rubbed them away with the sleeve of her dress before again beginning to write. It took her some time to find the words she wished and try to spell them properly. Her mind still spoke dully of danger and the desire to warn the man before her throbbed within her breast and would not relent. Finally she passed the pallet to Éomer's awaiting hands. He studied the words, again they only just made sense to him as he mulled them over in his mind, her writing skills were still in infancy and she had attempted to write words she was unfamiliar with. Finally he looked back up at her, unsure if he had understood what she wished to convey.

"Monsters are here?"

Aedre grasped at his arm nodding vigorously and pointed to the clearing about them. Éomer's frown deepened as the realisation of what her words meant came clearly to his mind. She was convinced Orcs had been here, what had caused her to think so, he could not fully understand. He studied her pallid face for a moment, seeing the unmistakable marks of fear etched into her eyes and features. Her expression was disconcerting and for a moment Éomer felt he faltered in his confidence in the girl sat before him. What if she were mad or damaged beyond repair... His brow knitted together as he thought over musings the words had brought forth to his mind. Finally he looked squarely back at her, his will set. What did the mind matter where the heart and soul were concerned?

"We are alone Aedre." He was surprised to hear his own voice sounded calm and as soft as velvet.

Aedre shook her head but it held less conviction as her memory brought up no real images of any Orcs being in her path on this day, could it really only have been a waking dream? She glanced up at the King of Rohan her eyes still holding that same lost look of bewilderment.

"We are too close to Edoras for any Orcs to roam, they know better," He paused waiting for the words he had just spoken to sink into her mind, "and I am armed, I can take battle against many Orcs and I have this." He gestured with his eyes to the small horn that was attached to his belt. "If I sound this, the men of Edoras will come to my aid," he paused once more studying her face, "you are safe."

Aedre moved slightly, gaining a better view of her surroundings, wanting to take another look and be sure his words were the truth, in doing this act her hand shifted position. Beneath her grip she felt a wetness trickling across her palm and moved away in surprise. Her eyes beheld the long, thin scratches she had created upon Éomer's forearms and her gaze widened in shocked ignorance as she brought her hand towards her, studying the smears of blood upon it. Finally she allowed her eyes to meet his, tears already beginning to pool in their depths as she silently asked if she had caused this injury.

Éomer gave a weak smile and answered her silent question with comfort. "I am not hurt."

But the words were not solace enough and Aedre allowed tears to fall down her cheeks. Éomer wiped them gently away with his fingertips.

"I am not hurt," he repeated, his eyes and the tone of his voice telling her he knew she had not meant her actions. "But Aedre," the sound of her name brought their gazes together once more, "you must tell me why you thought they were here?"

Aedre slipped a hand away from his arm and clutched it to her breast, her eyes intense, speaking some of what she could not.

"You felt it?"

Aedre nodded eagerly before breaking their connection, turning her gaze to contemplate the space around her. She gestured with her hands the size before shaking her head and closing her hands so only a small gap remained.

Éomer understood her meaning as his mind clicked all the occurrences into place. "You have not been out in the open since you were with them, with the Orcs?" He paused, his eyes scanning the pretty place he had brought her to, hoping she would find beauty in it, not memories of long forgotten horrors. He gave a low sigh. "I should have thought upon the matter more before I brought you here," he looked into her face; the colour was beginning to return to her cheeks, "for that I am sorry."

Aedre furrowed her brow before she shook her head roughly and pointed down at his arms before placing a hand to her breast. The action stating that he should not be sorry, it was she who lamented her actions. Now her mind seemed to have settled she felt foolish and ludicrous for what she had done. In the moment it had seemed so real, but now her eyes were clear and she could see that no danger was forthcoming.

"It matters not," Éomer said with a smile. He touched her cheek softly and grinned as she was forced to return his smile due to his kind actions. "Let us try and enjoy this day... unless you wish to return to Edoras?" He asked wanting to stay and try and cure her of her baseless fear.

Aedre glanced about them before looking back at him. She gave a small nod and motioned with her hands towards the ground that she wished to stay. Éomer gave her a warm smile and rose to his full height offering her his hand, she gladly took it and got to her feet.

"Come, let us go to the well and I can bathe my arms."

Aedre's expression flickered with regret but a small, playful nudge from Éomer pushed the thought from her mind, she knew if she was unhappy, he too could not be content and so she forced the guilt away.

They came to the clear, clean water of the well. The droplets and the ripples they caused as they splashed into the pool glistened with the sunlight, seeming almost as if they could be real gems fit to adorn any crown. Éomer sat upon the edge and slowly lowered his right forearm into the crystal water. Aedre watched him for a moment before she removed the apron about her waist and sat down nearby. She began to pull at the thin material until it gave to the pressure and tore into uneven strips. She shifted closer to where he sat and when he pulled his arm out of the water she dabbed at the cuts and droplets until it was dry enough to wrap crudely in more of the shredded apron. Éomer watched her with dancing eyes as she worked carefully and tenderly at her task. She gently tied off the two ends and waited patiently for him to wash his other arm before giving it the same treatment.

Éomer knew the wounds were not severe enough to be bandaged, the blood had already begun to congeal and the outcome was no worse than a nasty cat scratch, but he allowed her to do as she pleased, knowing that treating him would ease her mind some.

Finally the task was completed and their eyes met once again. Éomer smiled in silent thanks before turning his face up towards the azure sky, allowing the warm sun to bathe his skin. "I used to come here when I was a child," he said breaking the calm stillness between them. "Sunniva would bring me and my sister, Eowyn, here in the summer." He smiled at the remembrance of youth. "It was our secret place and a folly of our childhood." He glanced at her, as Aedre looked around the surroundings seeing them in a new light as the form of a young Éomer passed before her mind's eye, playing as the children in Edoras played, a concept Aedre could only vaguely understand.

"We made up tales of giants, evil and good wizards along with great battles against the people of Rohan and forces of darkness here." He paused briefly and gave a low sigh. "This well we nicknamed the 'Wizard's Well', I told Eowyn that a great and powerful wizard had built it many hundreds of years ago, when the Elves were still young in the world and men had not yet come into being... I told her a great Elven army lay sleeping under the rock, awaiting a time when the land would need them once again and the great Wizard guarded them until that time." He gave a chuckle. "She believed me when I said the water of the well provided the drinker with health, fertility and happiness... I think perhaps I even began to believe it myself," he turned back to her as if leaving the mists of memory behind, "as children so often do... believe stories of their own making."

Aedre gave a warm smile enjoying his tale and the soft soothing sound of his voice that now made her feel at ease with the situation as long as he was close by.

"Now I am grown, I like to think perhaps the tales had some note of truth in them." He again looked at her directly. "I am sorry, I should not speak of my happiness in youth, knowing you had none."

Aedre studied him intently for a short moment before picking up the pallet she had brought with her and rested upon the ground. Carefully she spelled out two words before passing it to Éomer.

"Warm bread," Éomer read aloud.

Aedre nodded and gave a grin touching her temple lightly.

"Ah," Éomer said understanding her gesture, "you do have a good memory, warm bread..." He paused. "Your mother, did she bake bread?"

Aedre gave an uncertain nod. It was not a memory she dwelt often upon it was something she liked to keep locked and hidden away within her, only being brought forth in times of extreme need to comfort and heal her tormented mind. While with the Orcs it had been one of her small salvations, but she used it sparingly, afraid that if she remembered too often it would lose its colour and echo of snug, warm scent. The memory itself was small, a mere fleeting glimpse into a past long forgotten. A warm small kitchen, a rustic table and chairs and her mother or perhaps just a woman she knew well, stood in front of a bright sunlit window, her form becoming only a shadowed figure who worked at kneading dough while the wafting smell of nearly baked bread, yeasty and mouth watering, permeated the air with promises of sweet honey and fruit preserve.

Aedre came back from the images her mind stored so lovingly and looked up into the face of the only person she wished to share them with. She smiled and nodded, yes, she too had good memories.

Chapter Text

The sunlit clearing was theirs for one long afternoon. They ate sweet honeyed bread and Éomer spoke of many things, simple things and Aedre listened, enrapt by all he told her and the expression each new emotion etched upon his face.

Despite the earlier frightening occurrence of the day and the fact it had made her feel slightly uneasy she did still manage to feel peaceful. The slight hum and buzz of insects in the flowers was a pleasant music along with the constant dripping of water and the lull of Éomer's rich voice. Aedre glanced at the man who lay beside her on the grass, his eyes now closed, not in sleep but contentment and her very heart seemed to swell with a strange feeling. She had an overwhelming desire to make him happy, to see him smile at her and hear him praise her with kind words.

She smiled warmly as she thought over the days happenings, the talk, the silence and the play. Éomer had tried to teach her childhood games, but she could not fully grasp them, the concept was strange and new to her. Still she had enjoyed the game in which he had tried to catch her, that had left them both breathless and hot, but grinning and laughing. He had tried to tell her the rules of such a game, if someone caught you, you then had to chase them and so on. It was a simple concept, but Aedre found it confusing that children did this, were they not scolded for avoiding their chores? She supposed not... and after all the game was immense fun, she could understand why children would play it and wondered why the elders didn't chase each other, sometimes they looked so sullen and work laden, a smile would do them good, she felt sure.

Evening crept slowly upon them and the sky began to gain tinges of reds and oranges, the colours streaking the sky in a warm glow. Aedre finally gave into the small tug of discomfort that the darkness which would soon cover them brought, she had no desire to stay outside when the night came, when you could see nothing before you or what lurked just out of sight. Even in her own little cosy room in the Golden Hall, the shadowed corners caused her disquiet. She placed a hand gently upon Éomer's shoulder, reluctant to bring him out of the ease and comfort he was lulled in, but she also did not want a repeat of the unpleasant occurrences that had come on this day. His eyes opened slowly revealing the depths of deep hazel, tinted with a glimmer of moss green, a colour that only seemed to present itself in the light of the sun. A smile spread across his lips at the sight of her before him and she was happy to offer a smile in reply before she glanced up at the sky.

Éomer gave a low laugh. "Yes, we should be heading back, we have been gone far longer than I said we would." He glanced once more around the glade now bathed in warm orange from the setting sun and mentally tucked the memories of the day away within him. It had been a good day he mused. He heaved himself onto his feet before offering Aedre his hand. She gladly took it, relishing the feel of warmth it brought along with the texture of roughness caused by hard work and riding. They shared a secret smile between them before making their way over to Firefoot who grazed happily on a patch of lush, green grass. Éomer had taken the animal's bridle off to allow him to have a little free rein but the animal had not strayed far from his rider, the bond between Horselord and horse held them both to each other.

The stallion whinnied as they approached, the sound was one Éomer knew all too well, Firefoot was hungry and wanted to be back in his stable with a good bag of oats and clean hay. After Firefoot had been bridled, they mounted and Éomer pushed the horse onwards in the direction of home. The ride was leisurely and slow paced, never extending to more than a fast trot and it was a good while before Edoras could be seen in the distance, its torchlights and fires twinkled in the oncoming twilight. The sweet melody of music drifted to their hearing and both knew the festivities had not come to an end and would go on for many hours yet as the guards of the city watched on. They re-entered through the great wooden gates and began to ascend the steep path that led up to the Golden Hall. All was silent in the city although shouts and laughter could be heard distantly outside the walls as people enjoyed themselves and sang far too loudly.

They reached the stables still cloaked in the shadows and dismounted. Once Éomer had stabled Firefoot comfortably and fetched some fresh oats and water, he returned to Aedre and silently taking her hand in his they made their way up the steps and into the comfort of Meduseld. Even though Aedre had felt happy in the clearing with Éomer, she felt gladdened by the sight of home about her. She breathed in the all too familiar smells of must, wood and the distant scent of the kitchen's wood fire. This was the place she always wished to stay, her home and her solace, she was even starting to think of the ruler of Rohan as her protector in a way, to her he had become a part of the city she had grown to love. The king and the great, solid city almost seemed to merge in her mind. She smiled up at him at the thought and he returned her smile gladly.

They came to his chamber and hurriedly slipped inside. It was dark within the room and Éomer quickly brought a lone candle into being, the flame flickered and spluttered as it consumed the wick and wax, growing brighter. Even here, high above the base of Edoras the music could still be heard, faint and eerie, drifting upon the summer breeze.

He placed the candle down and turned to Aedre, his eyes taking in her form. She seemed small and fragile within the dimness, her face shining out with that wonderful beauty that spoke from within her dark eyes. How he wished more than ever in this moment, to wrap her in his arms and gently carry her over to the bed, kiss and caress her until all fears and torments of the past were forgotten, until it was only him and her melting into each other. But he knew he chanced much to act in such a way, did he dare gamble everything on a strong need of his own? What of her? Did she know anything of pleasures of the body? Would she recoil at his touch? Éomer could not even help wondering if she had felt some enjoyment at the hands of the Orcs, but he quickly pushed the unpleasant thought away. Of course not, how could anyone enjoy such treatment when the only goal was the other's pleasure and desire to cause pain. He cast his eyes to the open window, his gaze glancing across the vivid shining stars. His brow furrowed in its familiar frown, no this woman was lost in the realm of lust, desire and love, all this was strange and new to her.

He turned back to Aedre and studied her for a long moment. He knew that he could not deny his want and desire for her in the way any man would want the woman he loved... love seemed such a small word in this dim room. Was it love he felt? If he was honest to himself he didn't know, he felt he had nothing to compare to the feelings this woman brought forth from him, no emotions he could grasp that would tell him the pretty label he could place upon them, giving them a name. But if he had to call it something, he thought love seemed such a small, petty word in this moment.

She cocked her head at him, a small puzzled smile pulling at her mouth.

"It is nothing." He mumbled and turned away.

But Aedre's hand clasped his wrist gently bringing him once more to face her, her expression asking and a burning need to know behind her eyes. The frown that softly crinkled her brow told him she knew he was acting strangely.

Éomer's mouth felt suddenly dry. How could he explain what he wished to her? It felt like a repulsive task after all she had been through and those large, dark eyes held a naïve innocence to them that prevented the words forming upon his tongue. He swallowed. "It can wait." He said finally at a loss for words, the frown not seeming to release his brow no matter how much he wished it.

Aedre shook her head, her hair dancing about her shoulders with the action.

Éomer swallowed again. "It is... difficult to talk of what I feel," he paused, "what I want." He paused again watching her expression for the ripple of understanding to flutter across its surface, telling him she had understood his words. "I know you are not ready."

Aedre softly placed a hand to her breast, the gesture asking what he meant.

Éomer sighed, frustration etching itself upon his brow, replacing the frown. "It is... a closeness I wish us to share." He paused, the words felt thick and strange, catching in his throat. "Like when we kiss... but more." Éomer felt almost foolish talking in this manner, almost embarrassed. He was a grown man and should not need to stumble and stutter over his words when it came to bedding a woman. However this was new to him, new to them both, and he felt as if he was grasping blindfolded in a barren land searching for the one word or thought that would aid him.

Aedre again cocked her head, her mind processing all the words. Silence reigned between them before Aedre stepped forward and reached up, her lips pressing against his. The sudden unexpected action surprised Éomer for a brief moment and he stood unmoving as her lips met his in a series of slow exploring kisses. He felt confused, was she telling him she wanted more or was the mention of the word 'kiss' enough to make her think it was what he wished? His thoughts began to melt slowly away to only faint remembrances as he was compelled to return the kiss, his mind clouding in a haze of desire that he found hard to see clearly through. He wanted her, had wanted her for so long, since that night at the feast all those years ago. But now the lust was different, it didn't just want to consume her body, it wanted to hold her, caress her and please her. His lips burned against hers as his arms came to encircle her and pull her body close. He breathed in her scent, it was slightly musty from chores and she had a faint sweet smell of grass about her hair but beneath these smells was her own scent, it held an aroma that was reminiscent of wood and a bitterness that reminded Éomer of fragrant fire smoke mixed with herbs, it was imprinted into her skin and he moved his mouth from hers burying his face into the soft skin at her neck, gaining a deeper breath of it.

He laid soft kisses against the slight rise of her collar bone before making his way back to her mouth, lingering slightly upon the curve of her jaw before their lips were again connected. He intensified the kiss, his tongue gently caressed her bottom lip, asking silently for her permission to proceed, when she did not pull away he continued and allowed their tongues to meet in a deep kiss. It was the first time he had dared to allow it to go this far and he felt his own excitement flare and heat at the prospect of what could be between them. Finally he pulled away, his breath laboured and his eyes burning as they found hers. He watched her expression, trying to gain any hint into the myriad of thoughts he knew she concealed within, but she just looked at him, her eyes gently lidded and her lips still parted in remembrance of the sweet act they had just shared.

"Aedre." Her name came past his lips in a husky whisper. His hand came to rest upon the nape of her neck, he suddenly had an urge to tell her that he loved her, but once again the word seemed too small, unfitting and so he said the only thing that came freely to his mind. "My little Aedre."

She gave a smile, her own hand came to rest upon his cheek and her eyes glinted in the soft light.

He pressed his lips to hers again in a brief kiss. "There is so much I want to ask of you." He said resting his brow to hers. "Yet I know I should not ask... but I am only a man," he paused, "and the race of men is often weak." He smiled and caressed her cheek. "If only we were beasts of the wild woods, none of these problems and customs would touch us." He chuckled before he kissed her brow and pulled away, knowing the closeness they now shared may become dangerous. He wasn't used to waiting for a woman, they had always come to him, more than happy to lift their skirts and give him pleasure. But Aedre, she knew none of this world and he knew he didn't want it to be simple or easy, he wanted it to be right.

Aedre again caught his wrist, she frowned deeply her expression stating she did not understand but she wanted to, so very badly. Her eyes asked him why he would not explain his feelings to her, what was he hiding? If he wanted to kiss her she was willing, he could kiss her for hours if it would make him happy.

"Aedre." His voice faltered. "Now is not the time."

He turned his back on her again and she couldn't bear it, couldn't stand the fact that he was discontent. She felt strongly that she was connected to what troubled him, perhaps it was the injury she had caused to his arms or had she done something wrong at the glade? Her heart drummed in her chest, she wanted to make it right, how it had been.

She rushed forward, the fear rising in her at the thought that he might leave, just as Anborn had left. She held Éomer dearer than she had done anyone else and where she had not had the will or reason to stop Anborn from leaving she had every intention of fighting now, for Éomer. She came to stand before him, blocking his path and her hands connected with his chest, pushing gently and stilling his steps as her eyes held his. She grasped one of his hands in hers and brought it to her cheek, the action almost desperate.

In a flash her lips were again upon his, pressing and demanding until he again responded. His will was shaking, breaking apart and finally he guided her backwards. His mind flashed up warnings, the fact that the girl still had no idea of his wants, but he soothed the gruff reprimand from within, he would stop if she willed it, this time would be different and they would proceed as slow as it needed to be. He couldn't deny the renewed flare of excitement of taking her into his bed, he longed for it to be so.

They reached the bed and Éomer softly guided her to lay back upon the soft linen covers and dark fur overspread. The kiss remained soft but gained in heat and passion as his hand hesitantly caressed her arms, allowing his fingertips to explore the skin beneath them and then he moved to the slight curve of her waist. After he had permitted his hands to roam across her form in this way for a while, allowing her to become accustomed to the feel of his caress, he softly brushed the mound of her breast. She made no move to stop him and his fingers worked softly, deftly over the material. Éomer didn't allow the kiss to break but he could feel her breaths becoming harsher, shallower at each soft brush. He covered her breast, splaying his fingers to claim it fully as he softly kneaded.

She clutched at his shoulders, but this time not in protest just for her own reassurance. Finally his hand moved lower, glancing across curves until his fingers felt the hem of her dress. He slowly pulled the skirts up allowing his hand access to what lay beneath. His hands sought, brushing the soft exposed flesh of her thighs, lingering a moment, and then in-between, his fingers pushed gently, finding the soft folds...

Suddenly Aedre was pushing him away, it was a firm, panicked demand. Her hand was about his wrist wrenching his caress roughly from her body. He broke the kiss, his eyes fixing upon hers. Her gaze was marred by pools of tears but this time it was not at what was happening to her but bitter disappointment, a look akin to betrayal. She shook her head, telling him she could not continue, her eyes pleaded for him to see she couldn't understand this, what he wanted.

Slowly Éomer rose, his lust calming and his breathing returning to normal. He brushed his hair away from his face and glanced at her as she pulled her skirts back down. She again shook her head, that same confused expression etched into her features. Finally after a few moments of silence had passed she shakily rose and went to the bag Éomer had left upon the wooden chair by the fire. She pulled out the pallet and walked to where the candle stood. By its glow she wrote, taking her time before she turned to him, holding it out.

Éomer rose from the bed, his throat lodged full of regret and fear of what the words that would be, upon the black surface. Slowly he allowed his gaze to glance over them, reading the scrawl and mentally correcting the misspellings and mistakes. "I have done wrong?" He muttered the words to himself before turning his eyes to her, his brow furrowed.

"No, you have done nothing wrong." He took a step forward but she instinctively retreated a little away from him, her eyes taking on that same wide eyed look of fear but there was more marred in her gaze, a look that spoke of hurt, treachery and heartache. "Why would you think that, Aedre?" He couldn't help the tone of annoyance coating his words. "If I was displeased I would tell you so."

Aedre gave out a small sob, her tears beginning to spill down her cheeks, her eyes beseeching him to tell her how to right the wrong she bitterly thought she had committed, before finally she reached out for the pallet and after wiping the words away she began again to write before giving it to him to read.

He again allowed his mind to form the words into something understandable. "But you punish me," he mumbled. The words seemed to ring and echo in his mind and hearing even though they hadn't been spoken out loud.

Chapter Text

Éomer stared at the black pallet with its stark white chalk letters, for what seemed an age to his mind. The sweet sound of rejoicing and music that still permeated the air almost left a bitter taste within him. The joyous noises seemed to do nothing but taunt him in this moment of confusion and regret.

Finally he tore his gaze away from those damnable words, words that wounded him more deeply than any blade could. He'd hurt her, not physically it was true, but the blow had been just as severe to her mind, to her trust of him. He cursed himself inwardly; he had known, she was not ready for this situation, that her reaction would not be what he willed it to be. He had been a selfish fool and the tonic of truth was hard to swallow. The day he had spoken to Aedre about her time with the Orcs, of what they had done to her came rushing back to him. He had willed what they would share to be different, to not seem like a punishment to her mind. Éomer knew he had deluded himself into believing that with him it would be right and good, it had been a vain wish. He could not change the way she saw the world just because he willed it to be so.

Éomer found it was difficult to look directly at the woman stood before him. He felt strange and awkward, unsure how to handle the situation. His mind flashed up the thought that few men would ever be in the position he now found himself in. In Rohan a woman's duty was always to her lord, whether that be her king or husband. His people did not shy away from talk of the bed chamber when it needed to be spoken of, but such tasks of teaching normally lay with mothers and elder women... he was a man and knew not how to explain the way of coupling between man and woman to the naïve girl before him.

The silence seemed to press down around him, urging and pressuring him to speak and break the uncomfortable feeling. He cleared his throat and placed the pallet upon a nearby table and forced himself to look at her. She was outlined in the dim glow of the candle, her features half hidden from him in the gloom. He suddenly had the strong, bitter wish to somehow go back, so what had happened on this night had never happened. He cursed himself again, cursed himself for being only a man, it was all he could do.

"I..." The word fell abruptly from his lips and he found no more were forthcoming. Silence once again reigned. Éomer walked over to the bed and sat down upon the soft mattress. He looked away from her, to the open shutters at the window, his eyes taking in the night sky. Not seeing her directly seemed to give his lips the courage to begin once again.

"I was not punishing you." The words were once again gruffer than he would have wished, a trait he had always possessed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her move, taking a step forward and then another. They were reluctant movements but it lightened his heart to know he had not broken her trust in him completely.

He glanced at her, her face now visible to him, and for a moment he wished he had kept his gaze averted. Her expression was a pained mixture of fear, hurt and curiosity and her eyes bore the unmistakable glint of guilt. His heart tugged at the thought that she felt any kind of reprimand over his actions, but he knew she wished to please him and now she felt she had failed.

Slowly and deliberately so as not to startle her, he reached his hand out towards where she stood, silently asking her to take it and sit beside him. Hesitation fluttered across her face but finally her will won over her fears and she allowed her hand to slip into his and came to take a seat next to him.

"I was not punishing you," he repeated after a moment of needed stillness.

Aedre studied him with her dark eyes, the questions almost visible within their depths.

Éomer swallowed, knowing he had to continue. "When you were with the Orcs, they punished you." It wasn't a question but a statement he knew to be true.

Aedre gave a certain nod.

"But," he paused, trying to snatch the words he wished to use from his memory, "beatings and violence, torment and torture, these things are punishment." He had to remind himself to keep his grip on her hand light so as to not give her reason to be agitated, even though he had an undeniable pull to hold her tightly. He feared letting go, that she would revert back to that frightened creature he had known so long ago. "To do something against someone's will is punishment," he paused once again, hoping she understood. "What we..." his voice faltered but he willed it back. "Tonight, when we lay upon the bed."

Aedre nodded again.

"I touched you, but not in the same way as the Orcs?" The words came out as a hopeful half question. He willed it to be so, that she hadn't imagined those foul creatures under the weight of his caress.

Aedre mulled this over in her mind for a moment before finally she inclined her head to the side, acknowledging his words in the gesture. No, it hadn't been the same.

"When a man and woman fall in love," Éomer suddenly felt a fool, like his manhood was being called into question. He was lightened and amused by the thought that now he knew what Sunniva must have felt all those many years ago trying to explain the ways of the world to him, only she was a woman not a man, a man recounting the facts of the bed chamber was near unheard of. "It is pleasurable to lie together, touch each other. It is what brings children into the world and it is never meant to be a punishment."

Aedre frowned at him, waiting for his words to make the matter clear to her.

"When the Orcs took you," he paused, his throat feeling dry. "When they lay with you, it was a punishment because... you did not will it, because it was against your will... because," he paused again, bringing his hand up to his brow, unaware a frown had been formed there for a good while, before rubbing his temple absently. "I know not what else to say," he let out an exasperated breath. "Only that it is not meant to be a punishment Aedre, it is meant to be something we all do," he glanced at her quickly. "It is meant to be enjoyable."

Aedre cocked her head before rising from the bed and getting her pallet. She did not need the light to write what she wished; it was a word she had written many times. 'Why?'

Éomer again rubbed his temple after reading the word. "It is the way of life," he met her gaze, "the way of love and the way of desire."

Aedre slowly came to sit once more beside him. She shook her head slowly, stating she did not understand fully. It was a sad gesture and Éomer again wrapped his hand around hers, bringing her gaze to his face.

"I should not have done what I did on this night. I care for you deeply, little Aedre, and we need not travel down his path, not yet. Only when you are ready." He gave a strained smile that made her give a weak one in return. He knew the expression that had settled upon her and forced another smile to form and felt gladdened that she tried once again to return it. He wished for nothing more than to bring her out of the negative emotions she was wallowing in. "I am not displeased, nor am I unhappy," he paused once more. "I would never hurt you, even if I was unhappy with anything you did." He searched for more words of comfort, a difficult task and something he was not wholly used to. "That is not the way of good, honour bound men; I strive to be that for my people..." he hesitated, "for you."

Aedre looked up at him, her eyes flicking over his face before she gave a nod of understanding. Éomer gave another uneasy smile, still feeling the weight of his own guilt. He brought her hand to his lips pressing small kisses across her knuckles. "All that matters is we are together, with that I can be happy."

Aedre watched him intently, seeing the strain in his comforting smile, a smile that had not managed to wipe the frown from his countenance. Finally willing her courage back into her body she reached up and softly touched the creases upon his brow, smoothing the skin gently with her palm until finally Éomer was forced to release the expression. Their eyes met and she again studied him before looking within herself. She searched her thoughts, her heart and came to the conclusion that although she did not fully understand his words and the meanings behind them, she did trust him; she did believe him with all her being when he said he would never hurt her or punish her. The realization that this was so startled her. After all her long years spent in constant fear of those around her, of beatings and cruel words, to come to the understanding that someone truly meant her no harm and cared about her sent a strange jolt up her spine.

Aedre closed her eyes briefly, willing away the tears that begged to be shed from her eyes. When she again opened them she glanced around the room wanting to give herself a moment to recover before she looked back at Éomer. But as she took in the chamber she had become so familiar with, that was part of her home, she felt a leaden weight settle somewhere within her stomach. She knew she didn't want to leave, not now. She had an unpleasant thought that if she left him he would have vanished in the morning and even though she was aware how foolish the thought was, she could not shake it. She turned back to him and gestured with her hands that she wished to remain with him.

"You wish to stay?" Éomer said, a little surprised.

Aedre gave a firm nod.

"I will be glad of the company." He touched her cheek lightly. "Today has been tiring." He paused and his eyes seemed to dance at the prospect that all was not lost between them. "Perhaps we should sleep and make sense of questions on the morrow."

Again she nodded and then stood and tried to turn down his bed clothes as she had done on many a night, but Éomer stilled her hand and motioned for her to stand back. Aedre smiled as she watched him pull back the covers with clumsy actions, leaving only the linen sheet upon the bed. It seemed strange to see him perform such a mundane task, something she did every day. She was so used to him appearing regal, powerful and masculine that the sight of him happily doing a woman's task made her want to giggle and the warm wave of feeling she had felt at the clearing spread through her being once again.

Éomer hesitated momentarily, considering if he should undress before her, but he gave a gruff sigh at his own foolishness, Aedre had seen him in many states of undress, he should not coddle her like a new born, and to treat her any differently now, after the night's passing, may do more harm than good. He pulled off his shirt and hose leaving only his undergarments of a loose pair of drawers. Then he slipped under the covers and awaited to see if she would indeed join him, he knew he could control his desire for now and he wanted her to feel safe with him, even after a misunderstanding had taken place.

Aedre glanced about the room, as if she was afraid many pairs of eyes would stare out of the shadows. Finally she began to unlace her overdress and pulled it awkwardly over her head before loosening the baggy shift dress beneath and discarding that too, leaving only a simple thin shift. She wrapped her arms about herself despite the humid air, fully aware she had not been in this state of undress before another person apart from Sunniva for a very long time. It seemed strange to think back to the time Anborn had found her when she had no real understanding of modesty and the way the race of men seemed to hide their bodies. Now she had learnt much and knew some of what was and was not accepted.

Tentatively she lifted the cover and got underneath. The mattress beneath her sent a pleasant, gentle shock through her; it was soft beyond her imaginings and so unlike her own straw stuffed bed. She allowed herself to sink into it as her head came to rest on an even softer pillow. She glanced at Éomer who watched with a warm expression, she grinned as their eyes met and pressed her palm into the cool pillow, feeling it easily give beneath the soft touch. Éomer let out a low chuckle at her actions.

"It is a soft bed." He smiled with a small hint of teasing. "For a king."

Aedre looked at him unsurely, her expression asking if she should indeed be lying here if that was so.

"You can be my queen," he said with a grin and touched her shoulder. "Queens are allowed in the king's bed."

Aedre's expression quickly spread into a grin before she pushed against him playfully, her actions stating she knew he was teasing her. She gave one last smile before she rolled onto her side, wanting to see the stars as she drifted into sleep. The dark sky outside did not disappoint and the twinkling stars seemed to shine down upon them, adding further peace to the moment.

Éomer watched her as she became comfortable, sinking into the bed and letting out a small sigh. Within that small sound he could almost imagine what her voice would sound like, soft and sweet like a summer breeze. He felt sure it was a voice he would be happy to listen to for many hours, and he was determined that one day he would hear it. He mulled over the last words he had spoken to her, he had not meant to tease her and perhaps he had been jesting at the time but now the words seemed to have meaning. If he fought, could it be possible he could break an ancient law, could Aedre become his wife? The thought left him with an uneasy feeling within himself, but still it pleased him to think on it.

Aedre felt Éomer move beside her and his body brushed hers in the briefest of touches. He reached slowly over, his gesture and calm manner not wanting to startle her further, before he took her hand in his, studying her fingers from over her shoulder. Although she had disliked his earlier caresses this was different, she felt no fear or panic, just a strange peacefulness at his closeness and the calmness that seemed to have seeped into the room.

//

Sunlight filtered into the chamber, warm and bright. This occurrence would normally have awakened Éomer but the presence of the woman slumbering beside him seemed to make his own mind want to do nothing more than sleep on and not wake. He had expected to be free of sleep soon after dawn and have both himself and Aedre dressed. She would then be able to make her way back to her own room without any curious looks or prying eyes. He was not ashamed of what they shared, but he knew only too well how the nobles and other people of Edoras would take the news that their king was consorting with a serving girl, with only one serving girl... It was true however that none would know how deep their bond went, but he also did not want Aedre to be looked down upon or cause her to suffer any other woman's jealously driven actions.

The serving women of The Golden Hall he had consorted with in the past, five in total, had all known coming into his bed had no meaning, that whispered lovers talk held no merit outside his chambers, and yet some seemed to still wish, to hope that he would return his affections to them one day and bestow them with riches. It was a fantasy and in their hearts they knew that also, he had never promised such things. But word sometimes reached his ears of jealous fights having taken place between one of his old lovers and a new girl he had paid attention to. He wanted to make sure Aedre never had to deal with anything of the sort. Still these thoughts did not penetrate his contented mind in this moment; only the warmth and comfort seemed to matter.

Finally the sunlight made its slanted way across the room coming to rest upon his face. The brightness invaded his senses, kicking his awareness into being, and sleep slowly began to melt away. He opened his eyes with a contented sigh; his first thought was of the warm body still next to him. He kissed her shoulder gently, not wishing to wake her and finally looked up, his mind already contemplating if he should rise or not.

The sight of the older woman's form shocked his sleep coated mind and made his body give an involuntary jump. His gaze focused, but his mouth suddenly felt dry as a frown instantly shadowed his features.

Sunniva studied the scene before her with a mixed expression of disbelief and anger. She rounded her disapproving gaze on Éomer; her mouth was turned down at the corners, bringing a sour look to her normally handsome face.

"What have you done?" she whispered, the words hoarse and cracked.

Éomer's brow furrowed further into a scowl. "We have done nothing," he hissed, still not wishing to wake Aedre. "You dare to come into my chambers and speak to me so!" His anger was besting him and he tried to battle against it, already knowing it was a losing fight. "You forget yourself." He suddenly knew where the bubbling rage came from, it was because of the look the woman before him bore, like he had taken a serving wench for his own pleasure, like he was nothing more than a man who used women and brought them under his covers before discarding them as soon as morning light peeked into the room.

Sunniva seemed to gather herself, controlling her own emotions. "You know she is unwell," she gestured to the sleeping form of Aedre. "She has no understanding for such things, and what when you leave her, what then? She won't understand."

Éomer gritted his teeth and his brow furrowed even further, anger taking over his expression, darkening it. The mere fact that Sunniva thought him so selfish and at ease with using women made his blood boil. Nor did he want to explain his true feelings to her, he could not right now, he was not ready to part with such guarded information. Still his anger crashed against him like a wave, that Sunniva, a woman he had known his whole life thought so little of him.

He had never taken any woman who was not willing, who hadn't pursued him as much as he had chased. Somewhere deep inside of him, Éomer knew why Sunniva was upset, she felt protective over Aedre like she were her own child, but the idea only dimly flickered inside him, swallowed by the oncoming rage. If he had been able to listen perhaps he could have reasoned with himself, reasoned with Sunniv,a but it was too late for that now.

"Get out!" It was a growled order and Sunniva stared at him, her mouth agape, sure she had misheard his words. "I said GET OUT!" The bellow that came forth was not what he had been expecting but the outburst had its desired effect. Sunniva seemed to become paler in an instant before she turned in a flurry of skirts and departed the room closing the door behind her.

The noise had jolted Aedre awake and she looked around wildly before Éomer turned his gaze back to her. The anger still bubbled and he fought to control it, to not allow it to be forced upon her in this moment. Aedre's eyes caught his and he gazed into their dark brown depths for a long moment. He was surprised to feel the anger melting, becoming nothing more than a dull thud within him. Finally Éomer felt the muscles in his face relax and knew it had passed.

He smiled at Aedre before squeezing her hand reassuringly.

Chapter Text

Éomer sat on the edge of his bed. The linen bedclothes that had only recently covered both his and Aedre's bodies in warmth and given them contentment were discarded in a crumpled mess. The sunlight that bathed the room did nothing to ease his mind or the thoughts that plagued him and his brow was once again crowned with a frown.

He was reluctant to allow Aedre to leave his chamber after the events of the morning. He knew many of the servants and nobles would still be in deep sleep after the merriment of the night before and no one would be expected to work until the late afternoon. He knew she could stay, that no one would know... or perhaps he was only trying to convince his own mind of such things, that Sunniva finding them had changed nothing. He was fully aware it changed everything, although his mind refused to process the fact, refused to even think upon it. Instead he was left with a cloying feeling that he wanted her to stay, to not venture out into the world that would set into motion the wheels and cogs that may finally part them. As he watched Aedre dress and make herself ready to begin her daily chores he had a sudden childish urge to bar her way, to put himself between her and the doorway. Glancing away from her, he quelled the urge and cleared his mind of such unhelpful fancies.

When he again turned towards her, Aedre was fully dressed and just finishing hastily braiding her hair. She gave him a small smile and his mind drifted unbidden back to the events that had occurred after Sunniva's abrupt departure. Éomer had noticed a change in Aedre's mood, it was small and hard to fully detect but to Éomer it seemed as if she had become silent. It was an impossible occurrence and emotion to feel, for he was fully aware the girl had never uttered a single word to him, yet he could not shake the unpleasant sensation that she was quieter, uneasy. He had tried to offer her a truthful explanation to his anger at Sunniva but he found that he could not find the words, or more to the point he didn't wish to. His mind finally settled upon telling her that he had been annoyed that Sunniva had awakened him and it seemed as if Aedre had believed this simplified account. That is until he had sensed her disquiet, perhaps he had taken for granted her naïve ways, he had seen for his own eyes on many an occasion that she saw deeper than most would even imagine.

He moved his gaze to her face and studied her for a long moment, his eyes boring into hers, trying with vain effort to read her inner thoughts, to understand what it was that had created that uneasiness between them.

"Must you go?" He spoke the words before he had even known they were upon his tongue.

Aedre gave an easy nod accompanied by a smile and the sight made Éomer question himself. Perhaps he was indeed imagining the ill at ease aura, perhaps his harsh words to Sunniva had caused guilt to form within his heart and it was the weight of this he was feeling.

He rose from the bed and went to her. She graced him with another smile as Éomer gently pulled her to him, encircling his arms about her and pulling her form close to his body. Aedre returned the embrace, her hands softly smoothing over the bared contours of his back. She pressed her cheek against his chest and relished the feel of his skin against her own in this small moment. She closed her eyes as the faint drum of his heartbeat reached her hearing, wanting that rhythmic sound to stay with her, to comfort her. Finally she forced her mind to focus and slowly pulled away from him, her eyes meeting his. Aedre suddenly felt awkward and wished to be free of the room and Éomer's presence, it was a strange feeling she couldn't explain.

She knew it was not his fault, nor her own that this strange barrier seemed to have appeared between them. Her mind mulled over the night before and of the strange conversation that had taken place between them, of what such things meant and just how her mind was meant to accept that a punishment was no longer such a thing. To her mind it was no different than saying a beating or a purposeful cut from a blade was no longer meant to cause pain and blood to flow... but... it had been different, his hands on her body had not felt the same. It had been different... she shook herself inwardly.

Aedre didn't want to dwell on such things or the fact that it may not have felt as a punishment should. It had been confusing and left her distraught that he had touched her in such a way, for some reason it hadn't been the same, it hadn't felt the same as the Orcs' hands and this was a concept Aedre felt she could not come to terms with. How could a punishment no longer be a punishment? She was aware how confused and muddled her thoughts were, how she kept going over and over the same point but phrasing them differently... still she had gotten no further in making it any less of a puzzlement.

She glanced at him, her eyes uneasy and saw his eyes mirrored her own, the lines of confusion that etched their way across his expression reflected the ones upon her own face. Aedre could easily read that the man before her was not concerned about the same thoughts that ran relentless through her own mind but something else shadowed his thinking, something that she knew he was not willing to share with her now. She felt slightly vexed that they could not just shed all their cares and worries here, hold each other and offer comfort. But she somehow knew that life did not run as smoothly as most would wish and some things were better left unspoken.

Not wanting their parting to seem forced or strange she reached up and pressed her lips to his in a brief kiss before turning from him and making for the wooden door.

"Aedre."

She turned to look at him, being careful to keep her expression carefree.

"Will you come back to me tonight?"

Aedre smiled at his request and found that the disquiet seemed to ease within her. She gave a certain nod before departing the room.

//

The kitchens were silent and still. The fire crackled in dim, glowing embers and Aedre fetched an iron poker and probed at the wood and ash until finally a few flames began to burn merrily. She added some more wood, knowing that all the workers of the kitchen would be grateful to not have to rebuild a good fire to cook food upon.

Food was sparse on this morning as much had been taken and prepared for the feast outside the gates. Aedre wandered a little aimlessly to the stone steps that led down into the dark, cool larder. She unbolted the wooden door and slipped inside. A small, gloomy, shallow cave with many shelves met her gaze as the dim glow from the fire gave her enough light to see a few feet in front of her. The room had been hewn from the very rock The Golden Hall sat upon and kept all dairy foods and meat cool for an extra few days after the time it would normally have become spoiled. She checked the first crudely made stone shelf and found what she had been hoping for; a few eggs and thin strips of cured pork. She piled all she wanted onto a wooden plate she had brought for the task and made her way back out, being careful to close the door securely behind her and bolt it. A few of the serving women kept forgetting to close the door in periods of haste in the kitchen and the result was often a larder full of spoiled food and a very unhappy Sunniva.

Aedre brought her finds to the table near the fire and found herself a sturdy, shallow metal pan into which she put a small amount of animal fat. She allowed the fire to melt the fat and begin to bubble before adding the strips of pork and then the eggs. Her mouth watered slightly as the distinct aromas from the cooking food filled the room and her thoughts drifted to a state of contentment, unwilling to linger upon worries and only wanting to think about her morning meal and how good it would taste. She heard a slight scrape of footfalls upon the stone floor and turned to look behind her. Aedre had fully expected to see Sunniva standing there, someone she had wished to see all the time she had been in here. Her thoughts were still uneasy over Sunniva's and Éomer's parting and the young girl longed for the reassurance the elder woman's kindly face and smile would bring. But it was not Sunniva who stood in the doorway but Guene who met her gaze evenly instead.

Aedre quickly glanced away focusing once more upon the food she was cooking. Guene was known for partaking in too much mead at feasts and her mood was often foul the day after, all the other women avoided her if it could be helped on such occasions. Guene was a young serving woman of twenty six winters, she was what many a man of Rohan would describe as a 'fine beauty.' She possessed all the qualities that were thought of as comely, she was taller than Aedre by a good head and had beautiful golden hair which had soft waves running through it. Her eyes were a startling, clear blue and her face was plump, rosy, and her body ample of curves. She also had the temperament and strong will that many a man would covet, but Aedre thought most would soon tire of her constant nagging, harsh words and unpleasantness on the morn after drinking. Even a beauty could become sour and what was often within shone without if one was willing to look hard enough. But they never were and the warriors of Edoras flocked to her side. Aedre stared at the fire her mind wandering and mulling over Guene. She came to realise that she had never seen a man with her outside of a feast... it seemed oddly strange, perhaps they were not as blind as she thought.

Aedre listened as Guene banged around the kitchen table tops looking for what she sought. Finally she gave a gruff noise of frustration and flung a pot onto the floor with a loud crash. Aedre flinched at the noise but did not stir, she knew better than to bring attention to herself when it could be avoided. Finally Guene seemed to see the young girl sat near the fire and took a few steps towards her.

"Where have you been?" she asked in a whiney voice, "I have been ill and sought your help in the early morn, but your bed was empty."

It was common for the serving women to seek aid from their closest neighbours if they ever needed help, but Guene's room was not particularly close to Aedre's. Aedre glanced up at her with a puzzled expression, her look bearing the question of why Guene had sought her when others could have aided her quickly and with more care.

"Most of the other girls are too lazy or sick to help me." Guene regarded Aedre with a wary eye. "I know you do not drink so I sought you..." she paused. "Though now I think on it, I see not what use you could be." The comment hadn't been intended to wound or be spiteful. Guene like many others did not see Aedre as wholly human. She was something of mystery, of the feared unknown, and therefore they did not trust the young silent girl and could not treat her as one of their own. Guene didn't dislike Aedre and had never uttered an unkind word to her in spite or malice but still the strange creature with many scars across her face and large brown eyes caused her to feel trepidation.

Guene wiped a hand across her brow, trying to dispel the ache in her head. "Where were you Aedre?" she asked absently. "I did not see you at the feast, but you were not in your bed."

Aedre placed the pan to the side of the fire and got to her feet. She fetched Guene a mug of goat's milk and pushed the drink into the woman's hands before sitting back down. Guene gave a small sigh of thanks before gulping down the liquid greedily. She wiped her hand across her mouth feeling slightly better than she had done a moment ago and the scent of gossip had perked her up immensely.

"Who were you with?" she asked coming to crouch down near the fire so her eye level met Aedre's. "Was it a warrior or a noble?" she paused, "or a servant?" Her voice was highly sweet and cloying in its tone.

Aedre glanced at her nervously not liking the direction this one sided conversation was taking. "I won't tell anyone, you can trust me," she said reaching out to touch Aedre reassuringly, hoping the act would bear a rumour she could fashion. But Aedre jerked her arm away, her eyes meeting the older girl's and warning her through them that she did not know her well enough to allow such friendly connections.

Guene studied her intently as if looking at an enigma that was somehow intriguing while at the same time causing of disgust. "I did not know you disliked being touched," she snapped as if it was Aedre's fault she hadn't been informed of this fact. "Well since you cannot talk perhaps I can guess." Her lips curled into a hungry smile.

Aedre shook her head, the action stating that she did not wish to speak anymore on the matter.

"Hmmm," Guene mused pressing her fingers distractedly to her lips. "Is it Eafa the stable boy?" She mused a little more, "he is a little slow but his looks are fair."

Aedre continued to look calmly at her and made no movement.

Guene gave a small uncomfortable giggle under the unwavering young girl's gaze, unnerved by the intensity that burned within it. "It is not Eafa then," she again returned to thinking, determined not to back down from her interrogation. "I heard that Oeric of Éomer King's riders has been seen with a lady of recent days, they are said to have secret trysts. Is it you Aedre?"

Aedre again remained silent knowing the woman was just playing her games of wanting to know all that went on in the Golden Hall, it seemed to bring her great joy to gather all the information there was to know about everyone and anyone and then depart it to gawping listeners, all the attention upon the woman speaking, upon herself.

"I suppose you would not tell me even it was so." Guene again studied the strange girl before the fire, her eyes softening at the sight. "I should not tease you so, I know it is unlikely you will ever find a husband looking as you do." She had meant it as a lament, as kind words but Guene had always been too brisk and thoughtless when it came to speaking. She gave a sigh and finished the last dregs of milk from her mug. "Still perhaps it is no ill thing to be without a man, you will never have to worry if he is yours or not, do as he wills in the bed chamber or listen to his commands." She gave a low chuckle. "But I cannot imagine such a life." She smiled a little dreamily. "I want a husband, children." She bit her lip before looking at Aedre fully, her eyes sparkling. "But like many a woman here I would enjoy being in the king's bed and I have been once, a long time ago now." She again sighed. "Can you imagine what it is like to be the mistress to Éomer King?" She chuckled. "It is a very fine thing." She bit her lip again as if remembering some embarrassing memory. "Clothes, gifts, food and passion, all mine for a short time." Her eyes dulled. "But he tires easily of women, battle is all he loves." She became silent for a few long moments before she jerked slightly as her senses came back to her. "Why am I telling you this?" She asked highly, embarrassment showing red upon her cheeks. "I suppose it is because you are so still and silent, you trick people into departing secrets." Her tone was jesting but her eyes were dark in their light blue depths, saying she meant those words and she didn't trust Aedre, not even a little.

"What are you both doing out of your beds so early?" Sunniva's light and cheery voice burst through the stagnant air that had formed about the two women by the fire.

Guene jerked her head away, unconcerned with Aedre now there was someone of more substance in her presence. "Good morning Sunniva," she said courteously.

"Aye Guene and the same to you," Sunniva said eyeing the woman with suspicion. "I saw how much mead you took last night, you should still be in bed by all rights."

Guene gave a sugary smile. "I did not feel well earlier and the sickness did not leave me so I rose and came to find something to ease it."

"Goat's milk?"

Guene nodded her eyes flicking to Aedre for only the briefest of seconds.

Sunniva gave a small nod. "Does that mean you will be needing a bucket and cloth later if you were feeling unwell?" she asked knowing exactly what Guene meant when she said she had been ill.

Guene seemed to redden slightly once more. "Yes, I may."

Sunniva rolled her eyes. "When will you learn that too much drink brings no one any good, girl?"

Guene rose from her crouching position. "I think I shall go back to sleep." She gave a last sheepish look around her before she made for the door.

Sunniva bustled about in the kitchen for a moment before she seemed to give into the urge that was clutching at her spirit, willing her to speak of what rested heavily upon her mind. She turned and walked over to where Aedre sat, pulled out a nearby stool and eased herself down upon it with a low huff. Their eyes met and Aedre suddenly had the strong urge to look away, to look anywhere but at the trusted woman before her.

"You saw me this morning didn't you, girl?"

Aedre didn't know what she had expected but the kind tone and face Sunniva bore was not it, the situation shocked her into silence before finally she nodded.

"And you saw I was angry?"

Aedre gave a small uncertain nod, she hadn't really seen it, but she had felt it, the heat of anger in the room and it had not just been coming from Éomer. Sunniva seemed to hesitate before she again focused her steady, even gaze upon Aedre. "Aedre, if you do not wish to tell me, you have no need to..." She paused, waiting for Aedre to confirm her words. "Did you only sleep with Éomer King..." She again hesitated. "Or was there more?" her tone was a loud whisper as if she were a little ashamed of the content of her words.

Aedre furrowed her brow before finally touching her lips with her fingers, signalling that they had only kissed. Sunniva's face seemed to relax with that simple gesture. "That is good," she breathed. "I think it is best if you do not see the king for a small time." She patted the young girl upon the shoulder.

Aedre tried to gesture that she had promised she would meet him in the evening but Sunniva stilled her hurried attempts and smiled warmly. "I will tell him I have kept you busy, he will not be angry and I must speak with him tonight," she paused before adding, "if that is alright with you, Aedre?"

Aedre was startled by the question, she was unused to anyone asking her permission for anything and for Sunniva to ask her to give up something she wanted for her own, like the time she shared with Éomer, made her feel strangely important and noble. Finally she gave a firm nod, glad to be able to give Sunniva anything she wished.

Sunniva again patted the girl before rising from her chair. "I see you have made us a meal," she said, the light, cheerful tone returning to her voice. "If you like you can take the scraps of fat around to the dogs while I find us a little broth to go with this." Sunniva quickly and expertly removed the thin strings of fat from the pork and placed them on a small wooden plate before handing them to Aedre.

Aedre gave a confident smile towards the older woman before turning and making her way out of the kitchens. As she turned the corner that led to the long passagewa,y her breath caught in her throat as a shock jolted through her at the sight of someone in the gloom. She took a small step back before regaining herself. It was only Guene still holding the mug which had recently contained milk. Guene's mouth was open, her eyes wide as she looked at Aedre, finally she blinked a few times as if willing her mind to work.

"I came back for more milk," her voice was whispered, stunted and Aedre regarded her with a confused frown.

Guene pushed passed her without another word and Aedre turned to watch her round the corner and disappear from sight. Aedre again frowned but this time in thought, perhaps the woman was indeed quite ill.

Chapter Text

Sunniva waited until a lull came to the kitchen before she allowed her mind to drift to the reluctant duty she knew she must do.

The evening meal was over and all the bustle of the day began to ebb as the workers left all thoughts of chores behind and hurried to whatever awaited their amusement. When she felt sure the right time had come and she could put the task off no longer, Sunniva left the stuffy, humid room and walked down the cool corridor. Her mind was already beginning to form what she would say and how she would say it. But, an unpleasant knot of dread formed in her gut as she walked, telling her with its presence that there was a very good chance Éomer would not listen and the end result may be that he shut her out of his life for good without a backward glance. He was stubborn beyond reason when the mood took him, she'd seen it in his younger days when he had not yet reached his eighteenth year and he had been determined to prove himself as a great warrior. The rashness of youth had nearly cost him his very life... but Sunniva had to admit he had tasted sweet victory that day, taking only a small number of men to defend a nearby village against a band of invading Orcs, he had won, and many still praised him for his bravery. But, Sunniva knew such bravery was foolhardy and left many a house without its king.

She shook herself, Éomer was no longer that restless child and although he was sometimes still rash and his temper had worsened somewhat over the years, he had matured, he had grown as a warrior, as a man; had he not proven this to all the great men of the land through his actions in the War of the One Ring? Yes, he had, and she knew his judgement was wise and just as the King of Rohan... but his heart was another matter. Wise was not a word normally used by anyone but a fool when love was spoken of. She closed her eyes briefly, listening to the echo of her own footfalls as she prayed that he would not turn her away, that he would listen.

//

Éomer had spent the day trying to put the past occurrences from his mind, but trying to banish Aedre from his thoughts was as impossible as moving the White Mountains from their ever present vigil over the city of Edoras.

It seemed most of the nobles had been able to drag themselves from their beds come the afternoon and when he entered the great hall many were already going about their duties, awaiting him. The daily papers, scrolls and chatter that went on about him was as important as it ever was and he replied with the forethought and seriousness that each task called for... but each respite he was given from the chores brought her eyes, her face back into his mind and he longed for the day to fade from golden hues to a purple haze. A change that meant he would soon see her, a sight that would tell him his fears of the morning were baseless, that he was being a fool, a weak fool. He had already chastised himself many times on this day for fawning away over such feelings. He was Éomer King, a warrior of Rohan, steadfast and the very image of what all warriors strove to be... not some romantic fool pining over a woman, his brow furrowed deeply with the thought. Was this what love did to a man? He did not like the feeling, he felt it made him weak, that it made him unworthy, and yet he could bear it; he would bear it, for her.

He finally retired to his chamber and awaited Aedre's arrival, his eyes constantly flicking to the window, to see if the sky had changed enough to signal her coming while also trying to unsuccessfully engross himself in a scroll of old poems. The daylight slowly faded into a clear star sprayed sky. He kept his eyes upon the twinkling lights, their beauty seeming to ease some of the discomfort his mind suffered. He convinced himself that chores kept her from his side, but he had at the very least expected her to bring his late evening meal as she so often did, but another girl accomplished the task and he felt a strange pull somewhere deep inside him. It was true uneasiness that clutched at him and he could not shake the fear that something was not right. He picked distractedly at the food, not tasting any of the roasted meat, nor feeling any hunger to enjoy it.

Finally he heard the door to his chamber creak open and stood abruptly from his chair to greet her long awaited appearance. Éomer felt the smile that had sprang to his lips fall as his eyes beheld no one else but Sunniva, the older woman closed the door carefully behind her and turned her gaze to his.

His annoyance that she had forgotten the customary knock that was due a king abated quickly as he took in the pale blue depths of her eyes, that told him plainly he would not like the reason of why she had come. Nor would he want to listen to the words she would speak, but silently she implored him to try, for her sake.

Éomer felt his jaw muscle tighten as annoyance took hold, but he heeded some of her request and tried his utmost to keep his manner relaxed.

"Where is Aedre?" he asked calmly, but his tone bore an edge of sharpness that he could not disguise.

"I asked her not to see you tonight," Sunniva said plainly.

Éomer narrowed his eyes at her, the pretence that this was a tranquil conversation was quickly wearing thin. "Are you intent on keeping her from me? You shall not!" He huffed a laugh and also spoke plainly. He and Sunniva had never been people to dance and tarry around a subject or their words, like close family they could not lie to each other without the other knowing.

Sunniva's face remained solemn and still. "I asked her not to come because I wish to speak with you."

"Of what!" Éomer scoffed knowing he sounded a little like a petulant child. "Will you ask me to never see her again?" He saw her hesitate and took his chance to strike, to let his anger tumble out in a hiss of disgust. "Do you think so little of me, Sunniva?"

Sunniva's head snapped up, her eyes meeting his, searching. "I think more of you than you know Éomer," she paused as if struggling with her emotions, the blow had indeed hurt. "I love you as if you were my own."

"Yet still you think I would just use any woman I willed. You think I would use Aedre!"

Sunniva's face visibly hardened. "Yes," she said in a hard whisper, "yes I do."

Éomer stared at her, stunned into silence, his anger lost for a small moment, allowing Sunniva to speak her mind.

"Have you not done so in the past? Left broken hearts in your wake?"

Éomer found his mouth felt dry and the stunned feeling would not fully leave him. He shook his head. "No, I have left no broken hearts, I have hurt no one," he paused. "None of the maids I have had..." He paused again, speaking so plainly of such personal occurrences was difficult with Sunniva, like discussing his bed chamber frolics with his own mother. "None of them loved me nor I them!" His defensiveness kicked in bringing back some of his senses.

"You are a fool!" Sunniva's voice echoed around the room. "A fool," her voice softened back into a whisper once more.

"All the women I have taken to my bed have done so willingly!" Éomer said defiantly, the embarrassment melting away with Sunniva's callous accusations.

"Aye boy, but what woman of low rank would have refused the Third Marshal of the Riddermark? What woman would now refuse a king?!" She paused, watching his reaction to her words. "What woman could refuse the unspoken promise of power and love?"

Éomer shook his head. "I never promised anything," he repeated his defence.

Her eyes softened as she became aware he truly had been blind to such things through selfishness or stubborn will, only he knew. "Words often do not need to be uttered, the mind and heart are blind when they are entwined."

Éomer stared at her. "I did not know," was all he could manage, the words seemed pitiful. "I never spoke of love or anything more..."

"Was your heart so bruised after young Mildryth that you closed your eyes to all that would love you?" Sunniva said with true caring.

Éomer's eyes flew to hers at the mention of that name, a name that he still hated the sound of. "What has she to do with any of this?" He snarled. "She was but a youthful pleasure."

Sunniva gave a small nod knowing this was a tender subject. "And Aedre, what pleasure is she?"

He returned his gaze to hers with a sharp movement. "You fear I will abandon Aedre?"

Sunniva nodded sadly. "My boy, you have fire inside you. It burns hot and fierce and when you want something I think it clouds your mind." She took a deep breath in. "I cannot allow you to ruin Aedre, she already has little prospects... if you put a child in her belly all is lost for her. She will be disgraced for all to see. She could still have a life as she is; a quiet life of warmth, comfort and safety here in the Golden Hall."

Éomer studied her, processing all the words she voiced, allowing her to finish before he once again spoke. "You would condemn her to a life of tedium and condemn me to a life without her!" he blurted unable to hold back a moment longer. "Both are unbearable to me!" He paused for a small moment his mind rushing through the barrage of thoughts that tried to push themselves into his consciousness. "How can you claim to know her mind, her wants or needs?"

Sunniva looked kindly upon him, her patience, as always, tough and hardwearing despite the situation. "Please Éomer, think upon my words." She took a few steps forward and laid a hand softly upon his arm. "What when the time comes to marry? You will have to leave her, it will break her, she will die from such a blow... I feel it in my heart that it will destroy what remains of her sanity." The older woman felt her eyes begin to water at the image and wiped the tears roughly away. "The time will come when you will have to fulfil your duty as king and all follies will be left behind, when the time comes you will perform your duty and Aedre... Aedre will not understand that your kind words and caring manners were but a moment of folly, Aedre..."

Éomer suddenly shrugged her touch from his arm with a violent movement, halting any further words Sunniva had been about to speak. "You believe her to be a folly?" he spat his anger crashing against him with such force that he had to ball his hands into fists to prevent himself flinging over the nearby chair in rage. "She is no folly to me, she is..." He paused finding the words he wished to voice a hard task. "Everything!" he finally said in a fierce whisper.

Sunniva took a step back sensing his anger, but also his words stunned her, frightened her. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth but Éomer cut her off before she had begun to speak. "And I love her." The words seemed to force some of the anger he felt away. Speaking them so plainly had somehow given him a sense of freedom, righteousness and peace. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them once again and fixing their hazel depths upon the distressed woman before him. "And I will marry her."

Sunniva stared at him for a long moment, knowing he had spoken those words, but unable to believe it to be so. It seemed they stood in a stalemate of silence for many minutes before finally Sunniva was able to regain some of her mind. She gave a deep sigh, determined to say what must be said but knowing that her voice would shake as she spoke, she was unnerved by his confession and she could not hide it. She closed her eyes briefly before allowing her voice to once again fill the tension clouded room.

"You cannot... you cannot, Éomer," her voice did indeed shake and her tone was breathless. "You cannot love her."

Éomer frowned, his pride stung with her words. "I am lord of this house and I shall do as I bid myself to, I will not take counsel from an old serving woman!"

Sunniva felt as if the harshness of his tone and the content of his words had physically slapped her hard across the cheek, but she did not flinch, she made no move to indicate she had been wounded. "You are a great man Éomer king, a great ruler of your people, but this does not make you wise nor does it make you right!" She knew she placed herself on thin ground with these heated words. "You forget yourself, you forget your promise to your uncle and the kings of old!"

Éomer stared at her long and hard. "You talk to me as if I were a child who knew not his own mind! You think I speak lightly of what I feel?"

Sunniva bowed her head. "Yes, I have to think you do not speak with the truth of your heart." She closed her eyes as if pained. "I have to believe that you mistake fondness for something more."

Suddenly Éomer grabbed hold of her by the shoulders, his grip strong and forceful, but also gentle, he would never intentionally hurt this woman but he had to make her understand. "Sunniva." His voice seemed to slip back into the deep, smooth tone she was so used to hearing when he was untroubled, perhaps he forced this tone to will her to listen. "Look at me."

Sunniva did as she was bidden, her eyes connected with his and tears welled and trickled down her cheeks at what she saw in the depths of his gaze, truth and nothing more.

"I love her, Sunniva."

Sunniva shook her head, but the action lacked conviction, before a small sob escaped her lips. At the sight of her distress Éomer led her to his chair by the unlit fire. Sunniva sat down heavily and brought her hand to her brow. Finally when she had regained herself, she looked up at Éomer, her eyes still glistened with tears she had refused to let fall.

"My boy," she said in her kind, warm voice. "You know the path you wish to take, that you seek, cannot come to pass." She paused. "You learnt this many years ago with Mildryth. You were young and in the first blush of youth. You cared for her, how could you not my boy. She was pure sweetness and goodness to her very spirit. It tore your heart to leave her, to know you could not have her. It was her undoing my boy. Yet you did it because it was your duty, you understood this then, why can you not remember it now!"

Éomer shook his head and came to rest upon his haunches before her. "Because my dear Sunniva, I am ashamed to voice it but," he took her hands in his own, "I did not love her enough to fight... I love Aedre enough... I cannot live without her, I will not."

Sunniva took one of her hands from his grip and wiped it across her brow again. "They will never allow it. The law will not allow this." She paused, her mind reeling. "What you are asking would destroy ancient traditions, the way of the Eorlingas." She studied the young man before her. "You ask much of your people and I do not think their love for you will be enough to make them abandon our tried and tested ways."

"It is but a tradition, what makes a woman of rank or power more fitting than any other woman!"

"It is not that easy!" Sunniva's voice was strained, pleading. "You speak with your heart and perhaps you speak the truth, but you cannot break tradition for your own means."

"Why?" Éomer said briskly, standing from her and making his way over to the open window, his eyes longing for the sight of those reassuring stars once more. "There is no form or reason for it to be so, would my people have me wed to someone I feel nothing for?" He threw up his hand in a gesture of near despair. "Would they chain me to a life of resentment?!"

Sunniva stood abruptly at his words, unable to keep her seat a moment longer. Éomer saw the look upon her face was grave, her eyes and posture asking silently if he really meant what he said.

"Yes, resentment, for I shall resent any woman I am bidden to marry that is not her!"

"Éomer," Sunniva's voice was a breathless sigh, "you cannot mean..."

"I mean every damn word by Bema!"

Sunniva placed her hand over her mouth at the sound of the great Vala's name spoken in vain. While the men of Rohan often used this term it was unsightly to say such a thing in the presence of a woman and although Sunniva had often heard Éomer utter it in moments of great anger, she had never heard him speak it with such force and threat as he used it now.

Éomer shook his head. "The people of Rohan ask much of me if that is what they wish."

"They will not consent," Sunniva said, her face strained with worry and dismay, "they will not!"

Éomer turned his gaze to the stars, allowing them to work their soothing magic upon him. "Then I will have to find another way." He wasn't even sure if he meant these words, he knew they had hidden meaning in them, what his mind dwelt upon in this moment. But he had not considered such a thing before and he was in no mood to ponder upon such thoughts, he was angry and frustrated and clutched at anything to make this woman understand.

Sunniva's hand clutched at her breast in distress. "What do you mean?!" Her voice was breathless once more, the tone already bearing the alarm that she had guessed his mind. "You cannot mean..."

"I know not what I mean!" He whirled to face her. "I cannot think over such things in the little time you have given me..." He paused. "Even Aedre does not fully know where my heart lies."

Sunniva's eyes brightened but she remained silent.

"I only know that the thought of losing her is unbearable to me." He frowned. "And the thought of marrying another is unthinkable."

Sunniva hesitated before coming to his side and grasping his upper arm in a plea for him to listen. "Hear me, Éomer King, hear what I speak to you now and by the grace of the Vala you will heed me. Think upon your actions, your position and your people. Temptation harks you to listen to it, but do not for the sake of us all. A girl is worth nothing compared to the lament and destruction a civil war brings."

Éomer looked at her, holding her gaze as she continued to speak.

"You think your mind is hidden, but it is not, not from me. For the love of your people Éomer do not leave this house, this hall for others to bicker and kill over... not over a woman. Greater cities than ours have fallen for such love, would you have our lands and ways blur into such legends?" She paused, her eyes welling with tears. "I know your mind had only touched upon this idea, you feel cornered, harried... do not allow your mind to settle upon this choice, it means destruction. Love is powerful, I know, but sometimes you must sacrifice temptation for the good of others." She took in a gulped breath claiming back her voice from a sob. "You are not a selfish man and you are a great king, the last of the true line apart from your sister." She gulped again. "If you turn your back on this land, all is lost... all is lost!"

Éomer turned to her fully, his hands scooping up hers, he pressed his lips to her knuckles. "Do not weep, Sunniva."

Sunniva tried to suppress another sob by pushing her lips tightly together but she was unsuccessful and she let out a sorrowful gasp.

"I would not abandon my home, it would take more than all the wild horses upon the plains to tear me from my rightful seat here."

Sunniva gave a weak smile, showing him she was a little reassured by his words of comfort.

"But I cannot give her up Sunniva... I will not." He paused. "Can you not understand? I would will you to, as I value you by my side."

Sunniva inclined her head in a reluctant nod, she knew his will could not be swayed, his foot was already planted firmly upon this path and where it would take him, Aedre, and the people of Rohan, only time would tell. She shivered at the thought as dread curled up to stay within her stomach.

Chapter Text

Aedre entered the warm, steam filled room that was the bathing area for all the serving women of the Golden Hall. Baths were not a frequent luxury, a small water filled bowl was normally the common way to keep clean, but once a month each woman was allowed to bathe fully. One tub of hot water was shared between four, and Aedre had been lucky enough to be the first to arrive. She turned and latched the door so that she would not be disturbed, the others would have to wait their turn.

Aedre removed her clothing, laying it carefully over an old chair before she stepped into the warm water of her bath. The wooden tub was small and she had to bend her knees near her chest to fit into it fully, but the feel of the water surrounding her body was most welcome. She soaped up a cloth and began to wash herself, leaving her hair until last, running a concoction of eggs and sweet smelling oils through the strands with careful finger strokes. She stepped out of the bath, picked up a nearby bucket and filling it with the water, she had just washed in, rinsed her hair, allowing the liquid to run across the stone floor and into the drainage furrows. She renewed the water she had used from the large pot simmering over a small fire before wrapping herself in a linen sheet. Aedre sat down in the chair and allowed her skin to cool in the slight draft the room always seemed to have.

She let her eyes drift to the small hole cut high in the wall that enabled steam to escape and studied the sky. It was dark, and at the sight her thoughts instantly drifted back to Éomer and the fact that she could have been with him in this hour. Her heart gave a strange, sharp pull as her minds eye conjured the image of his face. She missed him bitterly, she wished she had refused Sunniva's request and saved the time for herself, that she had kept him for her own. She was suddenly surprised to know that she held a small amount of resentment towards her trusted friend, a tug of jealously that she was not now with Éomer and Sunniva was. She ran a hand absently across her face, feeling the beads of water running across her skin as her fingertips disturbed them. She distractedly lingered upon one of her scars, allowing her finger to trace its path and she fought violently within herself to not go back, but she couldn't help her thoughts free-falling into the past...

//

Laughter boomed around her, coarse and sickening. Cackles that made the thin hair upon the back of her neck stand on end. She could do nothing but huddle closer to herself, making her body as small as possible in the vain hope that they would forget her. The Orcs were sat around a large fire as the snow drifted slowly down, covering the ground around them in stark, bleak white.

The young girl felt her teeth chatter as a gust of bitter wind easily winded its way through her clothing. Her dress which had withstood many years was slowly beginning to become tattered and holes appeared and grew bigger as weeks passed. She was also growing quickly and her newly gained height stretched at the clothing, causing it to give and the small mounds upon her chest caused the bodice to strain at the tightness. Soon she would no longer fit into it at all and she knew when that time came she may freeze and the Orcs would leave her cold, stiff body here in the mountains. The thought of being left alone in death even by these foul creatures made panic flutter sickeningly within her. She wanted to be put underground, the way she remembered was right, the way she had once seen in her childhood. She knew that away from the mountains the Orcs would dig a deep hole to roll her into, they couldn't risk her being found and for that reason she hated coming into the mountains. Here no one would come across her pathetic remains, here no alert to the Orcs' presence would be sounded because no one would find her...

A violent shiver shook herself out of the many disturbing thoughts and she glanced at the Orcs as they talked in the common tongue. It was a croaked and barked sound, not something she enjoyed listening to, but she forced herself, willing her mind to make sense of the words that were being spoken, she understood so little now, she hadn't wanted to understand for such a long time.

She caught snippets and formed them into sentences as best she could. She distractedly pondered upon the last time she had used her own voice, spoken words and not just whimpers or screams. She wondered absently if she spoke now, would she sound like the Orcs? She couldn't remember what her own voice sounded like.

Her mind drifted back to the oldest memories she allowed herself to think upon. She could not remember how long she had been with the Orcs at that point all those years ago, but it had seemed an unbearable amount of time. She had been but a child then and she had cried and wailed as children often do when distress and fear cling to them. She pleaded in vain with the foul creatures to not hurt her, to take her home. But the use of her voice only gained her more punishment, more beatings and less food and so she had stopped using it, her lips tightly sealed, only conveying anything through hand gestures and nods. It seemed to please her captors greatly that the man flesh brat was quiet and most of the time they ignored her and she ignored them as best she could. She cooked, mended clothing and tended to any wounds the Orcs had and of course she was their spy for the small villages they raided. That was the reason they had kept her alive, that's why she wasn't dead, not yet.

She returned her focus back to their conversation, if shouting and insulting each other could be called so. It seemed once again they were joking about cooking and eating her, it apparently amused them immensely to tell this same jest over and over. She had grown so used to hearing it that the threat no longer worried her, as long as they had a use for her and food was available she knew she was relatively safe from the pot. She curled up upon the cold ground, wrapping a scrap of old cloth about her body. As the hours passed their voices rose into hoarse shouts as the foul black drink they each guzzled affected their minds as it so often did. Fights soon broke out and injuries were sustained, it wasn't long before one of them was looming above her, it was Gorûrz, the would be leader, since the death of their last leader all vied for power, but each bided his time. Gorûrz's black, sticky blood dripped with dull, soft thuds into the snow. He delivered a sharp kick to her legs and she rose without objection. His rough hand wrapped about her wrist and he tugged her back with him to the fireside.

"Mend it!" Gorûrz barked pushing the stinking, oozing wound upon his upper arm into her face. She gave a nod and went to a large pack nearby fishing out the tools she needed that the Orcs always carried with them. When she returned to his side the blood had seeped down his arms and still gushed, hot and fresh. She picked up a handful of snow and pushed it against the wound, for the act she was swiftly rewarded with a blow as the Orc lashed out, experiencing renewed pain. "It should be careful!"

She recoiled from the reprimand but was soon once again going about her task, tarrying even for a moment, was not an option. The coldness of the snow slowed the blood flow enough for her to see more of what she was doing. She took out a bone needle and thin leather twine and began to stitch closed the ragged cut. Gorûrz flinched but allowed her to continue. She wrapped a scrap of cloth around the shut wound, tying it tightly when the stitching was done.

Only once she had finished did he take out his anger, as if it had been her fault that he felt pain, she who had inflicted the wound. He beat her down onto the ground until she withered in a tight ball of agony, the screams of protest she had begun with were now no more than pitiful whimpers. Gorûrz laughed before clutching at her skirts and pulling, the material gave easily and within that small moment, half her dress was gone, torn into tatters. She felt the tears welling within her eyes for the loss she had sustained but only had a moment to dwell upon it as he was upon her once again, his stinking body pressed close to hers and his ugly face mere inches from her own, filling her senses with the stench of death and decay.

"It's old enough to give sport now, man flesh has its uses."

With the words ringing within her ears, her mind grabbing at the random words she understood and trying to make sense of them, Gorûrz was grasping at her skirts as his fingers dug unrelentingly into the flesh on her thighs, forcing her legs apart. She gave a strangled scream, hating the feel of his hands grasping at her skin and the hungry look in his eyes. Her mind flashed up the idea that perhaps he had finally decided to strip her flesh and eat her. She pushed him away with all her strength and rolled onto her stomach but before she could get to her feet he was upon her again, bringing her back down to the ground with a heavy thump, preventing her escape as her nails raked uselessly through the snow to the dark earth concealed below. She again gave a yelp of distress as his hands sought up her legs and he let out a cruel cackle.

"Get off It!" The roar of words broke the struggle and the weight of the stinking Orc was pulled from her. She was quick to scramble away, huddling her body as tight as she possibly could to prevent further attack. Her eyes shot to the commotion that was now breaking the stillness of the winter air, Gorûrz stood in a battle stance against another Orc, another that would be leader, Ufthak, her saviour of sorts.

"We don't lie with man-flesh!" Ufthak spat in a hiss, baring his brown teeth.

Gorûrz cocked his head in a fast unnatural fashion. "Why! It serves us!" He chattered his teeth. "You are not our leader!"

It seemed Ufthak had no ready answer, and as was often the case resorted to insults instead. "You rotten maggot!"

Gorûrz seemed to cower, lowering his position before unexpectedly launching himself into a deadly pounce, his dagger already drawn. He knocked Ufthak off balance and they both fell backwards onto the ground where they proceeded to fight with both fist and weapon. "I'll kill It!" Gorûrz roared gleefully. "After you are food for the worms and I am leader, you can rot next to the man-flesh brat!"

Although Gorûrz was smaller than Ufthak he was also faster and he was quickly gaining the upper hand. Her eyes widened in dismay. If Gorûrz succeeded her life was forfeit, none would stand up in her defence against one who had fought another and won, he would become the leader and her fate sealed at the end of his blade. Slowly she rose, wincing from the aches of pain her bruised flesh made known to her. Her movements were shaky but her will to live solid and strong and she clutched at it, using the emotion as a crutch. If she didn't do something all was lost, this Orc would change the way of things, Gorûrz hated all man flesh and would not tolerate her alive. Her head throbbed, she couldn't permit things to change.

Without allowing her mind to dwell upon her task she ran forward, feeling her feet sink into the soft, cold snow as it crunched under her weight. The world about her seemed to slow and blur as she bent, scooping up a small meat knife from nearby the fire. Then she jumped, hurling her body forward and landed with a harsh thud upon Gorûrz's back. Her arms wrapped around his neck, tight and secure and she pushed the blade against the exposed skin of his neck and within that instant his struggles with Ufthak came to an abrupt end as he froze.

Ufthak looked up, his expression one of surprise as to why his foe had stopped attacking, his black gaze met the young girl's wide, frightened stare.

She found she too was as frozen as the Orc beneath her, she couldn't bring herself to go any further yet still she clung on and pressed the sharp edge against skin; and part of her longed to make that one fast movement, while another urged her hand to be unmoved by the thought. A sly, ugly smile spread across Ufthak's face as he saw fear in the eyes of Gorûrz and he again looked into the girl's gaze, knowing this fate was crueller than anything his fetid mind could have lingered upon, Gorûrz would be killed by that which he hated most.

"Cut him!" Ufthak instructed with a grin, mimicking what he wished her to do with a finger to his throat.

Her eyes widened and she made no move to do as she was instructed, her head twitching slightly as if she was willing herself to shake it in protest.

"Cut him or else worse for It!"

She closed her eyes, already imagining the beating that would be dealt out if she disobeyed and what was worse she would also be prey to Gorûrz too if she allowed him to live... and she wanted to do it, didn't she? Ufthak given her permission and it was all so easy. Quickly and with a strength she thought had deserted her long ago, she jerked the knife upwards and across, slicing through the clammy skin and felt the body beneath her shudder as a warm, sticky liquid coated her fingers which still clutched the knife in an iron grip. The body fell taking her with it and she rolled off, coming to lie sprawled upon her back on the cold ground. She closed her eyes at the impact, hearing the strangled gurgles of the dying Orc echo in her mind. Slowly, she opened her eyes and took in the clear night sky above and the mocking stars that seemed to laugh down at her with each twinkle. Her breathing was laboured as the Orc she had just saved came to loom over her.

He seemed to study her for a long moment with his cold, cruel eyes. The other Orcs watched on with excitement. They had a new leader and death had swept through their camp, much to their entertainment.

"It doesn't touch weapons!" Ufthak roared suddenly and reached down, she tried to curl into a ball but his fingers soon sought her hair, grabbing a clump and yanking her upwards so he could hold her before him. She tried to struggle as little as possible; knowing to fight would only cause the pain that now radiated through her scalp to intensify. Finally he threw her roughly back into her small sleeping area.

"Next time It touches, It dies!"

As she was once again left alone to wallow in self pity she allowed her tears to fall, hot and wet down her cheeks, not just for the pain she felt but for the relief and remorse the act of taking that foul creature's life had brought. No matter how vile the act had been it had given her some revenge and some triumph, she had protected herself and she knew that signalled that hope still lay somewhere within her and with hope there was always life. It had been so easy to slide the knife, to kill, and she had been brave, something she had doubted she could ever be, she had preserved her way of life and for that she could only feel contented.

The months passed and she found the harsh emotions she had felt upon that snow covered night dimmed and became just a distant memory. It was just life, she told herself, life was never fair and the Orcs were her life. They had made camp in a small, dry cave near the base of the mountains. The deep winter months were only occupied with the gathering of food and finding shelter, the villages were useless for raiding during this time. The men stayed away from their fields and near their homes and because of this the ease the Orcs enjoyed so much was taken away and so they waited for the harsh weather to lessen before they again began their pillaging.

Her clothing gave her little warmth now, she constantly shivered and her limbs felt stiff from the continual cold, the cave offered little relief unless she was allowed near the fire and this was not something that was allowed to her often.

A band of Orcs had gone out looking for food, they had been away for many hours before she heard the familiar heavy footfalls that told her they had returned. Ufthak was now the leader and he was no kinder than any of the others but it seemed he had a distaste for Orcs using man flesh for pleasure and she had been safe from clammy hands upon her body in that manner since the night of Gorûrz's death.

She stayed huddled close the wall as the returning Orcs greeted their companions and threw down various items of food and clothing.

"Travelling party with young," one of them cackled, pulling a dead pig behind him.

Ufthak strode in, pride showing as he puffed out his chest at the bounty he had brought back. Without hesitation he made for her and she cowered, expecting his wrath. Instead he stopped before her and flung down a rust coloured garment. She stared at it for a long moment before reaching out and pulling it to her as Ufthak gave an impatient snort. She held it in her hands studying it and becoming aware it was a dress. She glanced up, her eyes meeting his fearfully.

"Put it on!" He commanded. "It has job to do!"

She obeyed, dragging the tattered matted remains of her old clothing over her head and replacing it with the soft, new dress. The Orc also threw a long plain piece of material at her and signalled she was to tie it over her hair as a scarf, this would disguise her disturbing look of unkemptness from prying eyes when she was sent into another village.

She smoothed her hands over the dress feeling the material until her fingers brushed upon a damp patch. She pulled her hand away and studied the red liquid upon her fingers, instantly knowing it to be blood, it looked just like her own. She rubbed her fingers together, her brow furrowing as her mind settled upon and tried to come to terms with the fact that the owner of this clothing had died so she could wear it and betray more of her own kind. She shook herself inwardly and reminded herself again, it was just life and life was cruel.

The spring seemed to come with swift speed and soon the harsh winds of winter were far behind them. The world about her began to blossom with new life and the Orcs once again prepared her for going into a village. They travelled for many miles, stopping each day to rest before setting off once more under the cover of night. The journey was hard and she lagged behind many times only to be met with a sharp push that urged her onwards.

It was a muddy, wet and grey clouded day they chose, with no sun shining, it was perfect conditions for them. The Orcs went about their usual ritual of putting on armour and banging their chests and helms to aid them in being prepared for battle. Two of them then lead her to the brow of a hill and pointed down at the dark outline of a small village. Fire smoke curled lazily from round holes in the many roofs. She gave a certain nod, telling them she understood her task and began to make her way down towards the unsuspecting village.

She'd learnt long ago that fighting against this task was useless, trying to warn the people within the villages also brought her nothing but beatings, and so she did as she was bidden, it made her life easier and that was all she wanted.

The village had no gates, or walls, it was exposed to the elements and the wooden buildings with their golden straw roofs looked small and insignificant alongside the vast expanse of empty land that surrounded them. She briskly walked, her footfalls rustling the tall grass about her until she stepped onto the stone road that the men had built for ease of access. She soon passed the first building and her eyes began to search. People passed her by in a rush of their daily chores some glancing at her in silent wonder of who she was, others ignoring that she existed. On impulse her hand softly touched the scarf on her head, hoping it was still in place.

Her gaze glanced across the buildings, lingering upon stores of food, cloth, weapons; anything the Orcs would want. She also took in how many adult males she saw that were not old men. It seemed this village had few and would be easier pickings. She wandered through, not rushing her charge, her eyes and ears blind and deaf to anything but her chore. Finally she guessed she had been in these surroundings long enough to gain a good idea of what she need report. She turned and made her way back through the main street. As she passed a stall her eyes took in a fresh loaf of bread, it still steamed slightly from being in a hot oven and the warm smell invaded her senses. She paused, wanting that loaf badly but she quickly scolded herself, knowing she didn't have time to dwell upon her wants and needs. She took a step forward but was prevented from taking another as something snagged her arm. She gave a soft noise of surprise and turned, her gaze met that of a young man and he grinned as their eyes met. With a startled yelp she pulled away from the grip he had on her arm and backed away, willing all her being to not panic, if she panicked and ruined the plan that had been set, she'd get a beating and this threat at least stilled her from causing a scene.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to scare you." The youth spoke but it was words she could not understand and she continued to stare at him with wide eyes. "Are you new to the village?"

Her eyes darted about, searching for an escape route she could bolt down. Finally she managed a nod, the only action she could think of performing.

"I guessed so," the boy said. "I am Cenric," he continued trying hard to make the young girl talk.

She again nodded and then turned, hoping this would be enough for him to leave her be, but her hopes had been in vain as he was soon trotting beside her, keeping pace with her quick steps.

"How many winters do you have?" Cenric asked, grinning again. "I have thirteen, next year I will be a man," he stated proudly.

The girl remained silent. "You look about the same age as I am," he said, trying once again.

Her pace gained a little and the youth's look took on realisation. "Your mother told you to not speak with strangers?" He smiled. "Mine too, but perhaps we will not always be strangers." The girl again did not reply. "I shall let you travel home, you look as if your journey here was hard."

She again made no move to reply and he decided it was for the best to leave her be. He allowed the pretty, dirt smeared young girl to walk ahead and watched after her as she disappeared into the small crowd that had gathered around the little market area. He would ask his mother whose family she belonged to and, if he felt so inclined, make a visit to her home bearing welcoming food. His mother and father would soon begin to ask him when he would take a wife, out here finding a woman was not always easy but perhaps the Vala had smiled upon him, bringing a new family and their pretty daughter into his very path. He turned and made his way back into the heart of the village unaware that he would never know a wife or a life, past this one, violent day.

Chapter Text

Aedre's body gave a violent shudder as she forced herself out of the torment of remembering.

Her fingers curled around the ends of the arms of the chair she sat in, gripping the wood tightly and using the solid feel beneath her hands as an anchor to the present. Her stomach seemed to cringe with the memories, they were too many and too much to bear. She finally released her grip and rested her head in her hands a moment, willing herself to be calm and for the images to pass, for that boy's face to leave her. She knew she could have pleaded with him, perhaps even made him understand that danger lurked close by... perhaps he would have saved her. Instead she had condemned him to death because she had been too scared, too fearful of what the Orcs would do, that they would win anyway.

She shook her head, willing the thoughts away. She told herself the old saying she had taught herself, it had just been life, life was cruel and now that life was also the past. She slowly rose from the chair, realizing she must have been sat in deep thought for longer than she had warranted as her skin was mostly dry. She patted the remaining water droplets that still clung to her away with the cloth she still had wrapped around her. She reached for her clothes and quickly fastened her stays, lacing the front tightly with controlled tugs before pulling on the rest of her clothing. She braided her damp hair loosely at the nape of her neck and secured it in place with a thin piece of soft twine. Aedre walked over to the large mirror that hung upon the wall and stared at her reflection, checking she had done a decent task in styling her hair. The mirror was old and the shining silver surface had become speckled with dark spots and tinged with rust. Aedre liked this old mirror, it was so marred that she could barely make out her own flaws within its glassy surface.

She smoothed her hair with her hand, the act calming her inner protests, and fears and with one last glance at her reflection she made for the door and unlatched it. The cool night air rushed into her face after the relative humid surroundings of the bathing room and her eyes fixed upon a figure waiting outside in the dark corridor. Aedre opened the door wider as she stepped fully out of the room and the candles from within shed enough light for her to identify the person who awaited their turn. It was Guene and she seemed a little startled to see the young girl emerging from the room.

"Oh!" she gasped. "You gave me a start." Her tone was prickly and Aedre moved aside to allow her to go past, not wishing to be trapped into another conversation like the last time they had been alone.

Guene gave a nod and took a step forward before halting her pace, hesitating and turning fully to Aedre. Her light blue eyes held a strange look of hardness that made Aedre want to take a step away but she had nowhere to go in the narrow passage other than pressed against the wall behind her, and so, with some effort, she forced herself to stand her ground.

"Pity," Guene said suddenly, making Aedre jump in surprise as the unexpected sound echoed around them both, "is a powerful thing but it is never enough to just pity something." Her lips curled into a slight sneer. "He'll tire of you just as he tired of me and the others, to him you are just a new plaything."

Aedre furrowed her brow, trying to understand what Guene was talking about.

The blonde woman gave out a low sigh. "I cannot help but feel I wish to be harsh with you, but I too pity you, pity you for what you are and what you will be after he is done..." She reached out a hand and touched Aedre's cheek and in response Aedre flinched violently away. Guene drew back her hand, her action one of regret at acting almost motherly in fashion to this strange girl. "But for that I'll keep your secret, till someone else comes to learn of it." She paused, her mouth twitching with a look that was the beginnings of disgust. "I won't lie for you, nor will I deny what I know. Be quiet as a little mouse, quiet and careful and perhaps no one shall see the king playing with his new amusement."

Aedre's brows rose in surprise. Why was Guene talking of Éomer as if she knew the secret they kept? As if she knew they met and he showed her kindness? Surely she couldn't know... and yet the facts laid themselves bare and were undisputable. Aedre returned her gaze to Guene's face, asking with an imploring expression how she had known this secret.

Guene gave a small chuckle. "Ears are all around the Golden Hall. Be glad it was me that heard and not one of the nobles, they dislike the king having any kind of pleasure as they think it distracts him from finding a queen to sit beside him... all they wish is for him to work, read scrolls and bring forth heirs. It is not the way of our people, our people are strong and at home upon horseback, upon the battlefield... but new ideals from Gondor have oft swayed our way of life, they think us lesser than them, less civilised." Guene gave a snort of laughter at the mere idea. "The people of this land have more reason to be proud than any grand loving Gondorian!" She gave another chuckle. "I have much to say on the matter, but my words would be wasted on you, you do not understand such things." She narrowed her eyes slightly. "But as I said, fear not, your secret shall not pass my lips, it is your own and I will not come between what is to be, for now."

Aedre gave a small nod in thanks knowing that Éomer would be displeased to know anyone knew, it was his desire to keep their meetings silent to all those around them.

"But, do not tell Éomer King that we have spoken, it would anger him." Guene smiled as warmly as she could. "I would wish us to become friends; it seems you will need one soon."

Aedre again nodded and smiled in return, reluctantly accepting the offer. She turned away, ending the conversation, wanting to be far from the gloomy hallway, this woman caused her unease although she could not explain why. She left the heavy air far behind and Guene watched, a small smirk forming upon her pretty rose lips. It was not exactly what she had wanted nor what she had planned, the king would not return to her bed that much was true... but perhaps she could gain the young girl's favours with this information and if she manipulated her just right, who could tell what riches and happiness awaited her.

//

Aedre did not take the familiar route back towards her cosy little room, even though her mind cried out for sleep. Instead she headed towards the great hall, her thoughts urging her to be outside in the fresh, cool air.

All was relatively silent in the hall, a few men still sat at the tables eating a meal, the fire burning merrily in the centre of the room as they laughed, talked, ate and drank ale. Aedre walked through unnoticed, to them she was just another serving woman and their current conversation of making up a new drinking song for the next feast was much more important to them in that moment to pay attention to anything else. She reached the great carved wooden doors and slipped out through the smaller opening cut into a section of the wood, emerging outside on the great stone platform. A guard gave her a quick sideways glance but upon seeing that she was only a servant of the hall he resumed his alert watch. Aedre walked forward and took in a deep breath of the late summer air. Autumn would soon arrive in Rohan and the breeze carried a small hint of the harvest to come upon it.

She allowed her gaze to drift across the many buildings below and the vast plains that spread out beyond the city as far as the eye could see when the sun shone clearly. Darkness now shrouded any breath-taking view but she knew it was there and it calmed her mind to see the familiar small details the moonlight did pick out in silvery tones. She wondered for a moment what had brought her out here? In that small, dark corridor with Guene she had almost felt like the air was leaving the narrow place, that her lungs strained to gain any kind of fulfilling breath. She took in another gulp of air as if to prove this point to herself.

A stronger breeze ruffled her garments and whipped any loose hair that had escaped her braid about her cheeks and within that moment she knew only one thing could ease the disquieting feeling the evening's events had brought. Although she had promised Sunniva she would not go to Éomer's chambers on this night she knew she could not keep that vow. She turned upon her heel and headed back into the hall, her destination set and her heart lightened at the prospect of seeing him.

Her footfalls were muffled in the empty passageways that twisted and turned, finally leading her to the intricately carved door that was the entrance to Éomer's chambers. She glanced up at the delicate horse and leaf relief and her heartbeat seemed to quicken its pace with excitement. She paused, knowing she should announce herself, but the thought that Sunniva was still within and may reprimand her, made her hesitate. Finally she pushed her ear up to the door and closed her eyes, listening intently, the door did not always muffle the sounds of talking if the people inside were stood near enough to it. She stood in such a way for many beats of her heart until she felt sure that all was silent within the room. She backed up a step, her eyes flicking to the door and then to her hands as she again hesitated. Finally she stilled her worries and raised her fist, giving three sharp raps upon the door. She heard a distant scraping of a heavy chair and then footfalls across the stone floor as the person inside drew closer. The bolt clicked and the door opened revealing Éomer's face. He looked vexed, his brow set in a deep frown until his eyes settled upon his late calling guest. The look of frustration lessened and he gave a small smile causing Aedre to return it with one of her own.

He did not speak, instead he opened the door wide, welcoming her inside. Aedre happily accepted the offer and stepped over the threshold. Éomer closed the door behind her and fastened the bolt before turning to her.

"I did not think you would come to me tonight." He paused. "Sunniva..."

Éomer was not given the chance to finish as Aedre flung herself into his arms, pressing her body to his in a much needed and longed for embrace. Éomer held her tightly, more than glad that she had decided to come, the mere sight of her lifted his heavy spirit. They held each other for a lingering moment both needing the others comfort before Éomer pulled back a little and placed a palm on each of her cheeks, studying her face in the candlelight. His eyes grazed over each scar, comparing it to the smooth unmarred skin it lay so unfairly next to, seeing within that small, brief instant the face beneath the flaws. He gazed into her dark eyes noticing how the colour seemed to lighten to an amber hue as the light flittered across the irises.

"I am glad you came," Éomer said with a small huff.

Aedre gave a small nod to confirm she felt the same. He moved one of his hands gently to the nape of her neck, brushing his rough fingertips against the exposed skin he found there. Aedre closed her eyes at the sensation, enjoying the teasing caress as his lips found hers and he kissed her deeply. All the fears and regrets she felt were swept away in that one beautiful connection and she surrendered into it allowing her hands to meet at the back of his neck, pulling them closer together with the act.

When they parted Aedre felt a whimper of protest bubble within her throat but she quelled it back down, feeling greedy for wanting more. Éomer's eyes met hers and he smiled, but it was not fully warm, it held a nervousness to it that made Aedre's brows knit together in question.

"Aedre." The sound of her name passing his lips made her shudder with a pleasant sensation. "I know your past has not been an easy one."

Aedre's eyes flew from his, she didn't want to discuss her past, not here and not with him. With him she could forget her repulsive memories for a little while, she could forget who she was. She needed him to forget that she was anyone but Aedre.

"Aedre, look at me." His voice drew her gaze back.

He placed a hand once again to her cheek, his fingers running across the scars deliberately. Aedre placed her hand over his and tried to move him away, shaking her head and silently telling him he should not touch them, he did not have to. But, he resisted, causing her to return her eyes to his once more.

"I care not for what your past was and I care not for the reminders you bear upon your face and body." He bent and pressed his lips gently against her cheek, the act a confirmation of his words.

Aedre continued to stare at him, processing his words carefully. How could it be that he didn't care about her time with the Orcs? Had Anborn not tried to explain how important it was she never spoke of it? How men would hate her for it? She hadn't fully understood his attempts then, but now living in a place of men she had learned what his words and actions meant.

Her gaze bore confused wonderment as she waited for him to continue.

"I care for you." He paused as if searching his thoughts. "The Orcs did you much wrong but you remained good, a good child of men despite this. Your spirit is as strong as any warrior's."

Their eyes connected once again and his mouth opened as if he wished to say more but his will failed him and he gave a small clearing of his throat. He turned his eyes from hers as he gained his courage to him once again, he knew he could not stop what he had now begun. Aedre still looked upon him with that strange awed look that made him feel a welling of endearment bloom within his chest. Éomer made to turn from her and retreat further into the room, to avoid the task he had set himself for a few extra moments but she pulled him gently to her, not wishing to lose the closeness they seemed to share within this moment.

Without anything more passing between them she urged him towards her, until her back was softly pushed against the sturdy door and his body pressed close to hers once again. Her hand sought his, allowing their fingers to entwine and her eyes held his in an unwavering gaze that spoke to him of devotion, loyalty and trust. That sweet, open expression broke his normal resolve of restraint and his lips once against found hers but this time in a forceful kiss. He had not meant for his mouth to crash against hers in such a wanton, raw way but the emotion had swelled within him so suddenly that he had no choice but to act. Aedre did not pull away despite the tremor of violence lurking behind the kiss, she welcomed the contact with open arms and parted lips, matching him in intensity and craving. She felt a delicious tingle work its way through her body, it seemed to leave in its wake a feeling akin to soft pressure that longed to be caressed sweetly away.

Finally they pulled away from each other, both panting hard. Her hands playfully twisted a piece of his hair distractedly, the gesture peaceful and Éomer was struck by just how much of herself this young woman had given him willingly, something that she had never done before, something that he felt great privilege in receiving. He brushed a few stray hairs from her cheek and smiled.

"I love you," it was no whisper, but a deep and smooth declaration that bore no reluctance and no hesitation.

Aedre stared at him a long moment her eyes travelling across his face before she wrapped her arms about him once more and pulled him into a warm embrace. Those words had passed many a maid's or man's lips while she had watched, longing for the connection they shared. She didn't understand them fully, but she knew they meant a deep bond between two people. Those three words were never thrown about as a play thing, they represented warmth, comfort and protection.

Finally after standing wrapped in each other's arms for what could have been a blissful age they parted and regarded each other with a renewed light. It seemed the entire room was brighter, warmer and the sight heartened them both.

They gave each other a smile that spoke of the beginnings of a future and walked leisurely towards the window as Éomer began to tell her of the day's happenings and the light thoughts that were upon his mind. The peaceful moment left both content and neither heard or noticed the shadow that moved away from the crack beneath the door, nor the sound of receding footsteps.

Chapter Text

The beginnings of dawn blossomed over the horizon and the warm sunlight lazily fell through the half open shutters, bathing the king's chamber in a rosy glow. Aedre watched in contentment, letting her mind drift over the patterns and shadows that appeared upon the stone flagged floor. She gave a soft, coy smile as the king beside her stirred in his slumber, his arm coming to rest at the curve of her waist.

Aedre enjoyed sleeping here in Éomer's bed, the furs were warm, the linen soft and the company gave her a peace that she had never known. It was calming, soothing and gentle; she firmly believed she could stay this way for an eternity, wrapped in the protection and promises that love brought. Her smile widened, yes, he had said those wonderful words to her. A great man, a king had told her he loved her, that he wanted her by his side and that her life would never be the same again. Aedre had never really thought about what she wanted from her own existence but now she knew with a firm and strong certainty that it was to be with Éomer and live the life that they were both slowly weaving, connecting each other in the threads of each new day.

She bit her lip lightly as the gentle, cold weight of metal brushed her breast. She reached up and touched the golden pendent that now hung around her neck on a glinting chain. She allowed her fingers to deliberately trace the design, seeing the picture form in her mind's eye. A small arrow, the same size as a large coin, decorated with engraved swirls and elegant curls that formed into the silhouette of a horse's head, its mane blowing wildly in the wind. Éomer had bestowed her with the gift as they looked out across the city of Edoras late into the night before. He had told her he wished to give her something from his heart, something precious and dear to him as she was precious and dear to his heart. Finally he had found what he searched for in an old, small chest.

"It is from when I was a boy; it belonged to my mother and before that to her mother..." He had placed the pendant at her breast and fastened the chain at the nape of her neck. "It is a symbol a woman of Rohan wears to bring her warrior back safely from battle, the arrow symbolises where my place is." He touched her cheek lightly. "With you."

Now lying in the lazy morning sun, Aedre wrapped her hand around the pendant, the memories of the nights occurrences were indeed good, better than any she had of getting a good meal, new clothing or even the aroma of warm bread. She finally felt like something within her had become dislodged, the inner cogs of her mind moving and propelling her onwards to a life, not just an existence, but a life filled with merriment, warmth and many more good memories.

She allowed her eyes to flutter closed, only too happy to continue this moment for as long as she could. With the man she loved beside her, all seemed right with the world.

//

Aedre arrived later than normal to the warm bustle of the kitchens. Most of the women were already about their daily chores, taking trays of food to nobles who resided within the hall, gossiping of the evening's goings on in the local taverns and eating a hearty morning meal. Aedre slipped quietly onto the bench after helping herself to a bowl of oats softened with milk and drizzled with clear honey. She ate her meal in silence, watching the commotion about her and feeling nothing but lightness at the prospect of the chores ahead of her. She would finish them quickly so she could return to Éomer's chambers with his evening meal and stay with him once again until the morning. She let her mind wander to a small fantasy of them being together by the warm fire, snuggled under a fur blanket as he read to her or tried to make her understand old tattered maps.

"What's got you smiling like a love struck young maid?" The voice pulled her rapidly out of her imaginings and the smile that had found its way to her lips dropped.

Aedre gave an inward sigh of relief as she became aware the tone was friendly, as was the face. The serving woman, Bera, stood beside her with a kind, rosy look. She gave Aedre a small wink. "If only we could all smile as merrily as you on a morn of work," she gave a soft chuckle and touched Aedre's shoulder gently as she moved away from the table to begin her chores.

Aedre's smile returned and she quickly finished her meal, not wanting to fall behind the others in her work.

//

Although Aedre had taken on her tasks with vigour she slowly began to lament that the hours seemed to crawl by so slowly. Each time she glanced up at the small smoke hole in the kitchens it was as if the sun was playing a merry jest upon her, refusing to move but an insignificant amount. Each time she gave a low sigh and returned back to her latest job of peeling vegetables, slicing fruit or plucking out the feathers from the fowl that would be tonight's meal.

Finally Sunniva bustled in and began directing everyone into the hectic chores of cooking the main evening meal. Vegetables were basted, meats brushed with juices and coated with a honey glaze, fruits artfully arranged into butter pastry dishes then layered with a mixture of eggs and thick cream. Many of the nobles had a sweet tooth and so the small sugary dishes were also served after the savoury course.

As the food became ready, filling the air with mouth watering scents of roasted meats, the serving women that would attend the great hall filed in, brushing their clean aprons down and adjusting their braids. Each was given a large serving of food before they turned and were gone on their way towards the great hall, their own stomachs willing them to do their job quickly so they could return to the kitchens or hurry home to eat at their own table.

As the kitchen's emptied and settled, Aedre rose from the stool she had been sat upon in aid of staying out of the busy paths of the serving women, and began to walk towards the doorway. She needed to change her dress and find a clean apron so she could serve the king's meal. Tonight Éomer had wanted his meal serving later, Aedre supposed this was to cause less suspicion in the others, no one would notice if she did not return from her task at a later hour, they would assume she had retired to her bed.

"Aedre?" She turned at the sound of her name being called. Sunniva stood by the fireside with two bowls of fresh, steaming hot stew. "I thought we would eat together, the autumn winds are becoming brisk and it may be our last chance to enjoy the air while we eat before winter comes." Sunniva held out the bowl towards her, her face hopeful.

Aedre hesitated but quickly relented and retraced her steps, taking the bowl that was offered. The two women descended the few steps that led to the small side doorway. The door was often used for food deliveries and was the way most servants left once their days were over. The serving women and men of the Golden Hall who did not reside within its walls did not like to walk through the great hall at the end of their day in case they were stopped and asked for other work to be performed; this way insured they got back to their homes and family quickly.

The cool air greeted them as Sunniva opened the heavy, thick wooden door. As always the guards stationed at the far points of the hall turned their heads in suspicion but soon relaxed and resumed their watch. Sunniva went to the edge of the narrow stone platform and eased herself down, dangling her legs over the edge. Aedre joined her and they both began to eat their meal. The stew was fresh and delicious and Aedre soon found she released the ball of worry that she was not rushing to be by Éomer's side, instead she felt content to relax within the older woman's company for a short while. It seemed a long time since she and Sunniva had sat and talked in such a carefree manner and Aedre loved to listen to her friend's warm voice as she talked of minor things that had happened within the hall.

The moment was simple, as the soft song of birds drifted in from the grasslands outside the city walls and their bowls were soon emptied and set aside in favour of light talk. Sunniva could hardly control her chuckles as she related a tale from the past week of finding two of the younger girls attempting to make honey bread.

"But their folly was using too much yeast in the dough." Sunniva's blue eyes crinkled in amusement. "When they came to find me they were near tears, bless them, the bread was bursting from the oven."

Aedre too had begun to giggle at the image the words conjured.

"It took two brooms and a good bucket of water to finally fight back that monster; I made them clean it out mind, before they left." Sunniva touched Aedre's hand gently. "Not that they minded, they thought I would be very harsh upon them." She smiled and gazed out across their surroundings once again before turning her attention back to the young woman sat beside her. Her eye caught the glint of gold in the sunlight and her brow furrowed, for she knew only too well that no serving maid of Aedre's age could afford such a pretty trinket.

"What is this about your neck?" She tried to keep her voice calm, knowing that the answer would not please her.

Aedre's hand instinctively grasped at the pendant beneath her clothes as if by this action she could somehow protect it and keep it away from prying eyes.

"Aedre girl, you have nought to fear from me, do you not trust me?" She smiled kindly and Aedre's resolve loosened, of course she trusted her friend, her protector since she had come to this place.

Slowly she retrieved the pendant and held it out for Sunniva to see. Sunniva did not have to take a close look to know what the pendant was, where it had come from and what it meant to see it in the possession of this young girl. She nodded her head slowly.

"Éomer gave you this, did he not?"

Aedre couldn't help the flicker of a smile touching her lips as she nodded in reply.

"It is very beautiful, just as you are." She patted Aedre's knee tenderly. "I remember his mother wearing it often."

Aedre's eyes became wider in awe and wonder at the mention of this.

"It means much to him, as must you..." She studied the scarred woman before her. "It suits you well." She smiled her warm smile and opened her arms out for Aedre to come into her embrace, which the young girl did only gladly, snuggling into the comforting arms offered. Sunniva caressed Aedre's hair with soft strokes before allowing her gaze to find the sun once again as it hid behind a large white cloud. "All things must change with time," she mumbled, feeling that same motherly swell she had felt many times for the poor girl now nestled within her arms, "even Rohan must change one day." She pressed her lips lightly to the girl's hair, her mind already decided.

//

Éomer awaited his evening meal impatiently. It was not just his grumbling stomach that caused the restlessness but the arrival of the woman he loved. The new emotions the open declaration had brought him gave his heart a peaceful joy and he knew just seeing her face again would bring that wonderful feeling back to him fully.

When the knock upon his door came he was on his feet and reaching out to turn the handle and greet her within a moment, abandoning all else around him. His face registered plain shock and surprise at the sight that met him. In the doorway not only stood Aedre but Sunniva too, and Éomer felt his heart sink a little. It seemed he and Sunniva's rift had lasted weeks, not only the day that had passed and how he detested not having her to turn to, as a son would turn to a beloved mother. He gave a low sigh and opened the door wide, silently inviting them both in.

Aedre walked into the chamber without a pause, putting the tray of food carefully down near the chair he liked to eat in before turning to face them both.

"Éomer King." Sunniva was the first to speak and Éomer turned to her, his continued silence inviting her to speak. "I cannot say I am fully happy with your choices, and I do not say such things to be harsh, things would go easier for us all if you did as tradition and the nobles willed... but..."

Éomer's brow had been setting into a deeper frown with each word she spoke but with the mention of more to come his annoyance lessened. "I love you and Aedre; she is a good girl and will make any man a fine mate." She glanced at the young girl who watched on with a confused expression. "If I had to wish her a life with anyone it would be with you and I think she will make you a good wife..."

Before Sunniva could continue her well thought out speech Éomer had grabbed hold of her around her waist and lifted her off the ground as he twirled them both in a circle, a large grin lighting up his face. Sunniva gave a squeal of surprise before closing her eyes as the world about her spun. "Éomer, Éomer!" She squeaked highly. "Put me down you foolish boy." Laughter and amusement coated her tone but Éomer finally relented and allowed her to stand on her own unsteady feet.

Sunniva quickly regained herself and straightened her skirts. "You did not allow me to finish," she scolded, not fully able to chase away the joy the moment had brought to all three people standing within the room. "It will not be easy and the nobles will fight you, I cannot say if all will turn out as you wish, some things cannot be changed Éomer..." She paused, seeing the smile falter a little upon his lips. "But for all it is worth, you have my help and my blessing."

Éomer swept the older woman into his arms and embraced her tightly. As he drew back he kissed her lightly upon her cheek. "Your blessing means more to me than all the nobles in the Golden Hall, Sunniva."

Sunniva smiled warmly at him. "You must be careful, we all must be careful to not let this become a scandal." She nodded as if thinking. "I will bring Aedre each evening and collect her each morn if she stays with you, it will stop suspicion as it will seem she is always with me."

Éomer nodded in agreement. "Yes, I know I have become reckless of late." He pressed a finger to his lips in thought. "I have decided I will go before the council in the next few weeks and put my thoughts before them."

"And if they refuse you?"

Éomer smiled. "Then I will put it to my people, there must be a way, Sunniva, having you stand with us, gives me renewed hope."

Sunniva gave a small nod. "Yes, but I love you both dearly. The people know nothing of Aedre, only tradition." She gave a small sigh. "But let us not dwell upon such thoughts; let us be content with this good moment."

Éomer grinned. "Yes, let us be content." He motioned for Aedre to come to his side and wrapped an arm about her shoulders.

Chapter Text

The days seemed to pass in a joyful blur before Aedre's eyes. The autumn came with sharp, cold gusts of wind and the gentle turning of green leaves to golden hues and rusted oranges. The fires were nearly always burning and the occupants of the hall stayed close to the warmth of the hearth rather than risk the bitter conditions outside. The harvest was plentiful and the winter would prove to be of little problem in respect to food and firewood. This year had been ripe with crops and good weather.

Sunniva had kept her promise and ferried Aedre to and from Éomer's chambers each morning and evening. If there had been the bubbling of a rumour brewing in the Golden Hall, these actions soon soothed away any doubt and scandal that could have been caused. None saw Sunniva's visits to Éomer as anything unusual; after all she had tended him as a babe through to his coming of age as a man.

Despite this, Aedre could easily tell that there was something different steadily invading the air around them. A tenseness that she could not explain and could only attribute to Éomer's growing concern on facing the council. Sunniva and Éomer seemed to spend many long hours discussing what could and should be said and what the right way to say such things would be. Aedre felt useless in these moments, she had no understanding of the ways of protocol and rules and could only offer what she hoped were comforting smiles and touches. Still her time alone with Éomer was as pleasurable as it ever was; laughter and soft caresses mingled with good food had made each evening something she longed for. It seemed as though her old life had belonged to someone else now, she looked back upon her memories with a gentle fondness but she did not recognise the girl she once was, this was her life,and she hoped that it never changed... but there was one thing Aedre wished she could bitterly change. Éomer hid his emotions on the subject well but she knew that he wished strongly to share in the pleasurable union he had spoken of many nights ago. She could not blame him for feeling this way, not if, as he said, it was normal for a man and woman to lie together in such a way, but her mind could not break the connection between the act and punishment. She willed her heart and body to give in to what he wished, she only wanted his happiness, and yet she could not step through this barrier and in her heart she didn't really want things to change. She was content with the way things were.

Sunniva, as always, was kind to her, and Aedre felt a strength in the older woman's presence, an unrelenting will that said without any words needing to be uttered that she would stand by Éomer's side no matter what the outcome. Aedre couldn't say for sure if Sunniva was wholly happy with the situation as it stood, she often felt as if her elder would have preferred things to be simpler, perhaps even that Aedre herself had never set foot in Edoras. But it was a fleeting feeling that left Aedre as quickly as it came, and she did not choose to dwell upon it.

Aedre glanced up from her needlework, a skill Sunniva had recently been teaching her as the days became shorter and the nights longer. A warm, merry fire burned within the large hearth and candles had already been lit, giving the king's chambers a cosy glow. The last strains of a burgundy sunset still existed on the skyline outside the ajar window shutter and Aedre allowed her mind to linger upon the beautiful darkening colours for a brief moment before she turned her attention back to the two silhouetted figures sitting beside the fire.

Sunniva and Éomer were talking once again about the council. Aedre had tried to understand the complex situation they had taken pains to explain to her on many occasions but her mind could not fully piece together the ways of this place. Surely if Éomer was king, the lord of all around him, he could do as he willed? Her knowledge of rank and power were limited to the ways of the Orcs and what she was only now becoming accustomed to in the world of men. If an Orc became the leader he only had to reach out and take what he wished, everything was his as long as he had the strength and skill with a blade to back up his claim and the lower Orcs were fearful enough to obey his wishes... but here everything seemed to depend on ritual, feelings, thoughts and tradition. Aedre did understand only too well that these things kept them both bound in a strange kind of limbo, while she could have happily spent her days in this hidden existence, it seemed Éomer could not due to his place as king. He was expected to take a woman as his bride, bear children and have her on display as he himself was often on show to his people.

She glanced at the sky once more; the sunset had now faded completely, leaving behind a cloudy night sky that looked heavy with rain.

"Let us talk more on the morrow, my thoughts are becoming confused," Sunniva's voice drew Aedre's gaze back and she saw the older woman rising from her seat. "I will take Aedre to the kitchens for something to eat and bring her back in a few hours."

Éomer stroked his beard absently as he studied a tattered piece of parchment. "Hmm." He gave a noise of agreement, seeming to not fully hear Sunniva's words. "Yes," he said, shaking himself from his deep thoughts. "Perhaps it is best not to dwell upon these things too much tonight."

Sunniva reached out and touched his shoulder tenderly. "Do not worry upon this, you will talk to Baal tomorrow and he is to be trusted, he is a loyal man and a brilliant scribe. He shall be able to give you better advice than I can."

Éomer smiled. "He does not know common sense as well as you, Sunniva, and I prize that more than any learned scribe." He gave a small chuckle, lightening the atmosphere.

Sunniva laughed. "Aye, is that so?" She began to gather her own sewing material which she had not tended to since first entering the room. "Come Aedre." She gestured with her hand that it was time for them to leave.

Aedre got up from her seat and walked towards Éomer. She placed a hand softly upon his arm, the action a small gesture of farewell until their later meeting. Éomer smiled, it was meant to be reassuring, but Aedre only felt that welling of uneasiness worsen within her. He was worried, she could see it in the depths of his eyes and the tightness of his jaw line spoke of vexation and hidden distress. Aedre suddenly didn't want to leave, to be away from his side for any small amount of time, as if that separation would give him a moment to ponder upon the hardships and difficulties she brought into his life. What if he decided it was no longer worth the grief? That she was not the woman he wanted to be with? A harrowing image entered her mind, she saw herself running through the many darkened corridors of the Golden Hall, her destination set upon his chambers. She reached it with faltering steps and pushed, but the door was shut, bolted, barred against her. She rained down blow after blow with her fists, calling his name in a voice she wasn't sure she even possessed and then Sunniva was dragging her away and casting her out into the cold wild lands beyond Edoras with cruel words that were lost in the howling of the bitter wind.

Her hand involuntarily tightened upon his arm as she stared down at the stone flags of the floor, her mind lost in that terrible fantasy.

"Aedre?" Sunniva reached out to guide her but Aedre flinched away from her touch as if the older woman had been about to brand her with a hot poker from the fire. Sunniva's brow creased in worried confusion. "Aedre, girl?"

Éomer placed a hand over Aedre's, sensing her dismay in that single grasping action. He glanced down at her, her eyes connected with his and she pressed her body closer to him, silently asking for some form of protection.

"Sunniva, she will be with you in a moment, I wish to talk with her before she leaves." Éomer smiled warmly, unwilling to show Sunniva that there was anything amiss.

Sunniva gave a firm nod and left the room to wait outside the chamber door, knowing that this time was indeed hard on both her king and her young friend.

Éomer waited until the familiar click of the door closing reached his hearing before he turned to Aedre. Gently he removed her grip from his arm and held her hand in his own.

"You are troubled?" It was a question, but one he knew the answer to, it had already been given clearly by her actions, his real enquiry was to the reason why.

Aedre gave a small nod, her eyes again finding his, the dark depths of them pleading with him silently, and he again wished that she could speak, that she could lay all her fears at his feet and he would be able to sort through each one carefully and reassure her to the fact that they had no merit.

"Can you tell me?" he asked, unsure if he was really asking her to speak or to use her pallet as she normally did. A small ball of hope that nestled within him wished that one day he would ask this of her and she would open her mouth, her soft voice filling his hearing... it was indeed a small hope, but a heartening one.

Aedre released his hand from her own and went to where her pallet was always kept, upon a large table near the window. She glanced up at the dark landscape through the open shutter as she thought of what she should write. The sky was becoming thunderous and small thin raindrops had begun to fall. She set to work upon the pallet surface, her hands bringing into being words that she hoped would at least convey a little of her mind.

When she returned to Éomer she handed him the pallet and he read the words with a furrowed brow of concentration. Aedre's writing was becoming better, her understanding clearer of how words were written and put together although her spelling was still a little sloppy.

"I am worried, the council, us." The first scrawled line of writing read. He moved his eyes to the next line. "You're worried. It is bad."

Éomer couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his lips, her concern was endearing and comforting all within the same moment, to know that she too felt the heavy burden of these hours eased his mind that they stood together, side by side through this hard time.

"I am concerned," Éomer said placing the pallet down on a nearby chair, "but there is no need for you to worry so, Aedre." He reached out and brushed his palm against her cheek. "Such times cause worry and tension, it will pass." She covered his palm with her hand, pressing his touch against her. "We are together, that is important to me, to have you with me, to know you are with me."

Aedre embraced him, the gesture giving a reply to his words; that she was always with him. Éomer returned her embrace and held her close for a moment before he pulled back and placed a tender kiss upon her brow. "Do not worry upon this more," he murmured against her skin. "Be merry and come back to me, I ask for nothing more, nor would I." He moved back a little so he could see her face. "I want nothing more."

Aedre smiled, her expression shining with relief and reassurance. She nodded.

"Go with Sunniva for a while and you can return later."

Again she nodded and with a last smile she walked towards the door to join Sunniva.

//

Aedre and Sunniva ate a good meal together and Aedre pushed away those worrisome thoughts that had wrapped themselves about her earlier in the evening. She listened as Sunniva talked and gossiped with the other women who sat at the table of the day's goings on.

"You look tired Sunniva," one of the women cut in. "Pale too, are you becoming ill?"

Sunniva shook her head. "My mind has not been mated with sleep for some nights, it is but a passing phase and I shall be well soon enough." Sunniva's eyes passed to Aedre, an expression that was fleeting...

Aedre felt a sudden jolt of shock flare through her being, surely she had been mistaken, the light in the kitchens was dim when the fire was not burning brightly, and perhaps she had imagined that strange look of resentment that graced her older friend's features and the cold, cruel glint in her eyes. Aedre fumbled with the bread within her hands, her gaze going to the soft white food as if she could make sense of this unpleasant feeling within the crumbs. She felt her heartbeat quicken and a strange sickening welled within her stomach as if it was suddenly empty of all the food she had just eaten and only contained liquid that caused her to feel nauseous. She breathed in deeply through her nose and allowed her eyes to briefly close, trying to calm herself and finally she looked up. Sunniva's face was kindly, warm, just as it ever was, and as she broke into merry laughter at what another woman had just said she looked at Aedre, her eyes dancing with amusement, wishing for Aedre to join in on the jest that had just been told. There was not a trace or hint of that shadowed look. Aedre smiled weakly, sure now that the light had indeed played a trick upon her eyes, but she was dismayed to find the feeling had taken hold of her, nestled within her mind somewhere and could not be moved or found.

When the other women had eaten their fill and set off for their beds, family, or last chores, Aedre and Sunniva were left alone within the confines of the warm room. Sunniva busied herself with preparing a joint of pork which was to be soaked in herb laced water overnight for the next day's meals. Aedre watched her for many minutes, feeling a strange kind of calmness in the labours her elder performed.

Sunniva glanced up from her task of tying the pork up with thin string, the skin around her eyes wrinkled as she smiled. "Why don't you go and wash your clothes while I finish up here?"

Aedre gave a nod, it had been some time since she had cleaned her clothing, the chores of each day seemed to leave little time for such things and now she was down to her last clean shift. Sunniva reached out and touched Aedre softly upon her arm. "Do not linger upon the worries these last weeks have brought, just as the cold wind shall fade into the summer breeze, so shall this, and all things." Sunniva smiled again and Aedre returned it with her own. "Go on now, then when you return we shall go to Éomer."

Aedre nodded certainly before leaving the room, her destination on her own chambers and the clothes that needed cleaning. Her quick footfalls made little work of the distance between her own room and the wash room. Aedre carried a candle knowing that the late hour may mean there would be no light that had not already been extinguished, but she was a little surprised to find some careless soul had left a lone candle burning. The room smelt of citrus fruit and warm water, the odours of clean clothing. She briskly set about stoking up the dying fire beneath a large iron pot that heated the water within. When the liquid began to bubble she threw in her lighter garments and allowed them to stew for a good while before she pulled them out with the aid of a heavy stick and placed them upon the stain board, a wooden contraption that had ridges running down its length which the material could be gently scrubbed against to remove any engrained staining.

Aedre set about this task with sure, controlled strokes. As was so often when she worked her mind began to wander, to recent memories or best forgotten ones...

Chapter Text

"What did you say!"

"You are a bad leader is what I said."

She sat in a corner listening to the current argument between Ufthak and Grulg. The two Orcs had taken a dislike to each other over the past weeks. Grulg was beginning to question their leader's skills, for what reasons she didn't really care, but it was becoming more certain that a fight would soon break out between the two rivals; the air always seemed heavy, just as it had done before Ufthak had taken leadership. The rest of the band of Orcs were excited, uneasy and ready for some new entertainment.

"I'll make you into worm food!" Ufthak roared and reached forward, meaning to grab the other Orc and deal out a good sound beating, which would most likely result in death. Grulg side-stepped the meaty outstretched hand that grasped for him, his own hand drawing his sword quickly.

"We haven't had fresh meat for weeks with you in charge, we want a change!"

Ufthak's ugly bloated face contorted in anger and he let out another intimidating roar. A horse which they had recently acquired gave a nervous pawing at the ground as if it knew the only reason it had not yet been dismembered and roasted over a hot fire was its small usefulness in carrying supplies, a usage which would not last long.

She glanced at the animal as it whinnied in nervous fear at the harsh noises around it. It probably had been used to a warm home and good hay every evening before the Orcs had attacked the wandering band of men and it had seen many horrors as its companions had been butchered and eaten. She looked down at her scarred hands, it had been many years since the night Ufthak had gained power, many years that he had steered the wandering band of foul creatures along a good path of pillage and booty, but Orcs seemed to have a lust for power and for feeling important. Ufthak had dispatched many usurpers but each time there was always the chance that the shift of leadership would happen and she feared each confrontation, for who knew how the new leader would decide to treat her? If they would agree she was an aid to their raids or too much of a burden to the party.

A harsh clash of metal upon metal drew her eyes back to the scene before her as the two Orcs began to fight in earnest. Grulg was more or less the same height as Ufthak and their build was similar, it was certainly an even match when it came to body size and strength, but Grulg had a advantage that the other Orc did not, he was sly and cunning, his eyes always scanning his surrounding for things he could use against his opponent, uneven ground, branches and other objects he could hurl and cause distraction, but Ufthak kept coming, his blade finding it's mark several times in shallow cuts, his anger burning brighter by the moment.

Seeming to sense that he could not gain the upper hand even with his sneaky tactics, Grulg retreated to the horse, using the frightened animal as a shield against any further assault. Ufthak reached around with his blade many times, but only managed to jab air as the distance gave the other Orc a good advantage against such would be deadly blows.

Ufthak gave a noise of frustration through his teeth as Grulg retreated further, a smug smile pulling at his hideous, gaunt face.

"You coward!" Ufthak again thrust his weapon forward. His snarl fell as his his gaze travelled to the animal he stood close to, noticing how the horse's eyes rolled with fear. Ufthak's expression changed, within his sallow, sour yellow eyes it was easy to see he was thinking, forming something... It took a few moments, but then a light seemed to appear within his gaze as he snapped his attention back to his enemy. He quickly reached out, his dirty long fingernails finding the beast's soft muzzle, he didn't hesitate but violently dug in, his sharp nails dragging through flesh, causing blood to spring in their wake. The horse gave a terrible cry of pain and lashed out, bucking wildly with its back legs. Grulg was not quick enough to avoid a forceful blow to his chest which sent him sprawling onto the ground, a nasty broken bone or two dealt by the horse's hooves as his reward. Within a split second Ufthak was upon the one who had dared to defy him, and with a forceful plunging movement Grulg was no more, run through with a sharp blade.

She watched on as the victor rose, leaving his defeated opponent to his last resting place where he would fester and rot in the open. Thankfully she knew they would be long gone from this place by then. Congratulating cheers greeted Ufthak as he made his way back to the fire and foul smelling black liquid was passed around in celebration.

She rocked on her haunches, her thoughts lingering upon the fact that at least for now things would not change, for now she need not worry about the future. But, there would be another, one of the Orcs that now greeted their leader as a bosom friend would turn upon him and Ufthak would lose, one day. How fleeting was any kind of valour when power was within the seeker's grasp.

/

Aedre came back to herself with a start. How long she had stilled in her scrubbing she was unsure. The shift in her grasp was wet and cold, the water had lost its heat in the quickly cooling room and the fire she had recently brought back to life was once again no more than struggling embers. She gave a low sigh. It was hard to be at peace with the fact that she could not just forget such memories, that they would always be a part of her and that they could suddenly spring into her mind without a moment's notice. Knowing she was not the same person she had once been, that she could not do the things she had once done, made her past seem almost unbearable when she allowed herself to dwell upon it. But, she couldn't deny where she had come from, nor the ones that had raised her, no matter how harshly... they had been a part of her. She had learnt from them and her mind still struggled to understand the way the race of men worked the land and lived their lives; because of the fact, that in a strange way, she was entwined with the Orc way of life, the only life she remembered before Anborn found her.

She held the shift up before her and went over it with a keen eye, searching for any stains she had missed. When she felt satisfied that it was clean she rinsed it in the water over the dying fire, washing away any soap suds that clung to the fabric. She wrung off the water from the material and hung it upon a wooden beam nearby to dry. She would come back in the morning to fetch it. Aedre wiped her water wrinkled palms upon her clothing and glanced around the room. She wondered how late the hour was and if Sunniva and Éomer would be fretting as to why she had been gone so long. She quickly tidied her appearance, her palms lingering over her cheeks; the feel of her own skin beneath her touch calmed the emotions that had become stirred within her.

She turned to the lone candle that now struggled to keep alight as it now had very little wax to feed upon. Aedre stared at it for a moment, for a strange unknown reason she pitied its vain attempts and with a deep breath she blew it out, stilling its hardship.

Aedre quickly made her way back to the kitchens. She had been right, the hour had grown late. She met no one but the guards as she walked through the empty rooms and corridors. When she finally reached her destination of the kitchen, she found Sunniva slumped upon the large table in the middle of the room, her head resting softly upon her arms. Aedre walked forward and heard the slow deep breaths of sleep. She hesitated, knowing that she had been instructed to not venture to Éomer's chambers alone unless in great need. But she had no heart to waken her older friend, no desire to break Sunniva's exhausted slumber.

Aedre fetched a blanket, which were kept in a cupboard for when the bitter winter months made even the large fire's warmth seem fleeting. She carefully and gently wrapped the blanket about Sunniva's shoulders and tenderly brushed aside a strand of greying hair that had become loose from Sunniva's usual tight braid. Sunniva had done so much for her over the years, had put herself in danger of being turned upon by the counsel with her actions of aiding Aedre and Éomer in their meetings. Aedre felt the least she could do was leave her friend to slumber peacefully for at least one night.

Checking that the fire was well fed and any items that had been left out had been stowed safely away, Aedre left the kitchens. The hour was late after all; there was little chance of coming across anyone of note. She quietly made her way once again through the corridors, taking the all too familiar path to the king's chambers. As she walked she found her heart was fluttering in a nervous rhythm. She kept to the shadows as much as she could and placed her feet carefully, aware of every sound she made and any noises that reached her hearing. It was more than once that she stopped abruptly, startled by the spit and crackle of a burning torch. She felt foolish for feeling and acting in such a way. She had been to Éomer's chambers many times on her own... but then there hadn't been the heaviness of consequences, no worries of reprimand and no fear of discovery. It seemed things had changed greatly and she had never been more aware of that fact than on this dark night.

To her great relief she was soon stood before Éomer's door. She nervously glanced around her, checking the darkened corridor to her left and right. The empty passageways seemed to do nothing to quell the disquiet she felt and tentatively she knocked. The three sounds her knuckles made against the wood seemed to echo harshly around her and again her eyes sought for danger. The door opened within moments, the warm, welcoming light flooding into the gloomy corridor and her spirit lifted as Éomer's face was revealed.

/

Aedre's eyes slowly fluttered open. The night before seemed as if it had all been a bad dream, the worries, the memories, none of it mattered now she was swaddled in the warm covers of Éomer's bed. Her mind told her that the hour was late, past her normal dawn rising, as her eyes rested lazily upon the shutters. She could see chinks of daylight forcing their way through the small wooden cracks. She became aware that the bed beside her was empty and the realisation sent the jolt of uneasiness back into her mind. She swiftly rose and startled Éomer who stood only a few feet from the bed, dressing. Regaining himself he gave her a stiff smile, the gruffness and disquiet in his mood apparent.

"Did you sleep well?" he voiced the question that was their normal morning greeting, but strangely on this morn it held no sweetness or softness in its meaning.

Aedre nodded in confirmation, before pulling back the warm covers reluctantly and sitting on the edge of the bed. Her fingers absently began untangling the knots her hair seemed to have gathered during the night.

"I have been sent word," Éomer said, drawing her gaze back to him. "The council meeting is to be today." He paused, letting her digest the news. "It is sooner than I expected, I have not had the time I wished to prepare, but I will still meet with Baal today and this at least will clear my mind, and I hope make my words more pleasing to the nobles' ears." Once again it was more as if he was voicing his thoughts out loud rather than directing them at her.

Aedre felt numb and knowing she must do something she rose from the bed and began to dress, taking more attention than was needed in tying the laces at her waist. It seemed her fingers would suddenly not work in the way she wished, they felt as if she had been out in the harsh cold too long, becoming clumsy and near useless. Éomer finished pulling on his heavy leather boots and walked over to her, his fingers brushed her own away gently, but firmly, impatience in his actions, taking up the task she could not perform. Aedre felt a warmness swell through her at this small gesture. Whether his mood was foul or fair she enjoyed the attention. Once he was finished he gave her a smile that was meant to be reassuring but that same stiffness hinted at the corner of his lips.

"Do not allow your thoughts to dwell upon morbid things today Aedre, do your day as you normally will."

Aedre forced a smile to grace her lips.

"Sunniva will be here to fetch you shortly..." He paused, his brow furrowing with internal thoughts. "I must leave," he said finally.

Aedre quickly reached out and curled an urgent hand around his arm, he turned to her at the unexpected action and she took a few hurried steps towards him, her hands pressing against his chest in a plain act of preventing him from going. Slowly she shook her head, her face betraying that she did not wish him to face the council, not today, not any day. Why did it have to change? Why must he go and stand before these rich and powerful men who owned many material objects or fought as great warriors for their place in the Golden Hall? Why could he not just bid them to do as he willed, he ruled them, he was their leader. Aedre's mind rushed, what if one decided Éomer was no longer fit to be king, what if they dethroned him, usurped his place in Edoras... What if they grew angry at his words and drove a blade into his body, silencing any upheaval this situation caused to the people of Rohan? She wanted to scream, to shout that he should stay, that they could carry on the way they were, she didn't care if she was his wife, his queen... none of this meant anything to her, only Éomer was important to her. Despite her wish the only sound she managed was an urgent whimper.

Éomer covered her desperate hands with his own, stilling her moment of confused emotion. "I know you fear for me," he said calmly, but Aedre shook her head forcefully. No, he did not understand what she was thinking; she knew he couldn't because in her heart she was aware her fears held no ground. The world didn't work like her nightmares, here in the land of men. Éomer pulled her into his embrace and held her tenderly for a moment. "Whatever the outcome, I will be with you." He paused, pulling away. "There will always be a way, our path is not barred." He stroked her cheek softly.

Aedre stared up at him her eyes regaining a small amount of comfort at his words. Suddenly Éomer shook his head. "But I cannot tarry here." His familiar frown appeared on his brow and Aedre knew he was gathering himself for the day ahead. The softness he had held in his posture and tone slipped away, the gruffness of authority slipping over him once more. Without giving her another glance, perhaps fearing he would lose his mask, he left the room in certain strides. As he reached the door he turned, not enough to see her but so the words he spoke could be heard. "Sunniva will be with you soon." He walked through the doorway, and closed the polished wooden door softly behind him.

Chapter Text

The day passed in a torment of slowly moving time for Aedre, her nerves near threadbare with constant worry. She could not erase the look she had seen upon Éomer's face that morning, he was uneasy and fretful. Perhaps he did not feel that any of the arguments he faced today would be won in his favour... perhaps he knew the battle was already lost.

Sunniva, although working closely beside Aedre, was of little comfort. Both women were lost in their own thoughts, unable to offer any kind word or gesture to the other, afraid that to acknowledge what was happening would somehow jinx the outcome, and so they buried themselves in work, trying to think of nothing else but the task currently before them.

Finally night fell, cold and unrelenting, a winter frost brushing teasingly upon the breeze. Aedre and Sunniva completed their tasks and waited patiently for the other women and servants of the hall to retire. The time lingered unwearyingly until the hour grew late and the kitchen empty, save for the two of them and the crackling, warm fire.

"It is time," Sunniva said, almost in a whisper. "Though my heart feels so heavy that I do not want to stand." She slowly looked at the young, worried girl before her. "Talk in the Golden Hall has been of Éomer King losing his temper with the nobles... I know not more than this." Sunniva brushed a hand distractedly across her brow. "I fear this news does not bode well."

Aedre stood abruptly from her seat and went to Sunniva, placing her hands over the older woman's own, her expression silently asking why she had not revealed this information earlier. She had been waiting all day for a scrap of news.

"You had worry enough to deal with, there was no need to fire your imagination into thinking dark thoughts when neither of us knew the truth of the matter." She paused and let out a tired sigh. "Until we speak with Éomer, I will not believe the rumours of the hall, they may be just rumours."

But Aedre could see Sunniva did know the truth, or had at least gained enough of it to lay a heavy weight upon her heart. Today had not gone as any of them had wished and Sunniva was reluctant to travel to the king's chambers for she feared what they would find there.

//

Aedre's legs felt heavy, her footsteps sluggish, as the two women made their way through the dim corridors of Meduseld. Her thoughts raged in turmoil and irritation, why hadn't they just let things be as they were? Now everything would change, had to change... her body shuddered at the realisation.

They entered Éomer's chambers after the briefest of knocks and a voice bidding them to enter. Aedre's eyes instantly sought out his outline as he leant against the stone fire surround, the flames blocking out all colour so only his shadow could be glimpsed. Without seeing his face, Aedre sensed his mood, angry, frustrated and dark. Within that moment she wanted to rush to him and wrap her arms about him, offering him a small gesture of solace in his time of need, but her feet would not move from the place she stood and so she watched helplessly as Sunniva closed the door behind them and approached the king.

Sensing someone near him, Éomer looked up from his deep contemplation and greeted Sunniva with a stiff nod. Sunniva took a seat nearby and patiently waited as the young man before her tried to make sense of his tangle of thoughts and form them into words. Silence followed for what seemed like an age until finally the older woman spoke.

"You seem tired," she said softly.

Éomer gave another stiff nod.

"Are the events of this day... too soon and fresh to speak of?" She pushed gently.

Éomer seemed to gather himself and shook his head. "No, I am lost in them... I am glad you came." He paused. "Where is Aedre?"

At the sound of her name passing his lips, Aedre's body relaxed and she came forward into the glow of firelight, announcing her presence. Éomer smiled but to Aedre, his eyes seemed sorrowful.

"It did not go well," he finally said, sadly.

"There is some talk in the hall... I had thought this to be so."

Éomer shook his head. "I raised my voice..." he began, but Sunniva cut in.

"You mean you lost your temper?" She gave a small understanding smile.

Éomer frowned. "Yes, I lost my temper."

Aedre took a seat on the large fur rug, resting her back softly against Sunniva's legs as she listened.

"They would not hear me fully, but continued on their self righteous speeches of what my duty to Edoras and its people was. What was expected of a king." He wiped a hand angrily across his brow. "That if she had been of noble blood, perhaps it could have been spoken of in length, but an orphan, a woman of no bearing, was not acceptable as the wife of a king of Rohan."

Sunniva pondered his words, thinking of what she could say to ease the ill feeling that surrounded him, but she had always known in her heart this would happen, no matter how much she had tried to deny it or look upon a more positive path, this had been her fear from the very start.

"Such men are not easily dissuaded from the old ways Éomer, ways that are held onto in times of need. They think you ask too much."

Éomer turned to face her fully. "But, we know nothing of Aedre's past, perhaps she is from a great family, a family that had noble bearing, these men cannot know anything... I once convinced myself that riches and birthright were everything after..." He paused, not wanting to think of his harsh past lesson in the ways of love. "I convinced myself they meant everything, but they mean nothing. You know as much as I, that Aedre is kind hearted, good and brave, her past is no less than a nightmare a bard would make up to scare children... she is more worthy than any other woman in this land to be queen of Rohan!"

Sunniva stared at him intently. "Yes," she said slowly, "perhaps... although I know little of her past." She eyed Éomer with a small hint of suspicion. "What are these nightmares you speak of?"

Éomer glanced at her, suddenly realising he had spoken more than he intended to. "These things matter not in this moment, Sunniva."

Sunniva gave a nod, but her face betrayed her displeasure at the secrets being kept from her. "Tell me more of what happened?" she said, wanting to move the conversation along.

"That was all they would say, I tried to argue my case, that the old ways could be changed in certain ways, ways that would not damage Rohan... but they refused to listen. The hour grew late and they said we would have to meet again to discuss the matter further." He paced before the fire, trying to still the anger these memories brought bubbling back to the surface.

Sunniva hesitated. "Did you tell them who your intended woman was?"

Éomer's frown deepened. "No, of course not!" He sighed, knowing he should not be venting his frustration on those that only wished to aid him. "I said I would not speak her name until a decision had been made, for fear that the rumours would hurt her and her position here."

"But they know she lives in the Golden Hall?"

"Yes, that I could not keep from them. They asked so many questions about her, that I had to bend a little to avoid displeasing them further."

"I understand your choice, the rumours will certainly not point to Aedre, no one would suspect her of being in your affections." Sunniva hadn't meant for the words to sound harsh but to Éomer's ears they did and he again had to remind himself that she was here by his side to aid him. "What can be done now?"

"I will have to meet with them again, if still all goes ill, I will have to look to the people of Rohan, only their voices would be able to sway the minds of the council at that point."

"If that happens you will have to reveal Aedre's true name and face, the people will want to see the woman you would have as queen."

Éomer nodded. "I am hoping I can still find a path that is not so laden with danger. Baal said he will aid me in any way he can, his free thinking ways have become a Valar sent blessing." Éomer paused. "I once thought him a romantic fool for his thoughts and now I find I need and rely on him more than I ever deemed I would."

"Perhaps..." Sunniva paused, her words and manner unsure. "It would be best for now if Aedre did not stay here at night." She saw Éomer's look darken and hurried the rest of what she wished to speak. "The danger of being discovered hangs above us even more, if it were to become known that she was the woman you held in your affections, do you think her life would be one of ease?" Sunniva shook her head. "People can be cruel Éomer, of this you know only too well. If they feel she threatens their ways, the ways of Edoras and disrupts the balance... life in Meduseld would become nothing but misery for Aedre, and for you."

Éomer seemed to mull over her words, the furrow on his brow creasing with annoyance and resentment, he knew Sunniva's words to be the truth.

"I know it is a hard choice, to love another is to need them as you need a drink of water when you thirst... but it must be done Éomer, surely you can see this?"

Finally Éomer turned to her; he hesitated as if words would not easily come to his tongue and instead gave a nod.

"I will not take her with me now, I will return for her within the hour, it is late but I will fetch you both a bite of supper." She let out a small sigh. "Tonight is not the night to linger on memories of this day, sleep and a fresh day will present new paths we could not see before."

"Yes," Éomer replied stiffly. "That is true."

Sunniva pushed herself out of the chair, patting Aedre's shoulder tenderly as she did so. "I will leave you to be alone and to talk, for although Aedre has been here with us we have not included her in our discussions and she must understand how delicate this time has become, we must all tread carefully." She gave Éomer a stern look she knew he would understand.

Éomer felt a sharp sting at her words, it was true he had not spoken to Aedre once since she'd entered, neither of them had, almost treating her as if she wasn't there. "Yes." He repeated the word, feeling like a child who had been scolded.

Sunniva nodded and reached out, squeezing his forearm reassuringly before taking her leave of them.

Once they were alone, Éomer turned his attention back to the fire, his mind turning over the day's events and how he could explain them to Aedre. He watched the flames dancing, wishing in that moment that he did not have to explain anything, that he could just be with her as he had been on many a night, calm, relaxed and warm. Knowing he could delay the conversation no longer he turned to find she stood but a few feet behind him, watching him with sad, concerned eyes. Within that one expression he knew she had understood enough of what had been said on this night. Things had not gone well and she could no longer meet him as freely as she once had, that was all that mattered to her and all she needed to understand. Éomer felt his heart plummet for making her go through this, he could have done as she had asked and allowed them to continue their meetings in secret... but he only allowed that foolish regret a moment to surface before he pushed it back down.

While it was true that if he had chosen that path, their lives would have been merry and carefree until the day came that the council and his people called out for a queen, an heir and a traditional kingly life from him, then the fantasy would have been shattered. The many years they had spent in happiness together would be naught but broken pieces that could never be mended... and if he was truthful with himself he too wanted the life that was expected of him, a wife, children... and he wanted it all to be with her.

He tried to smile, but knew that it was awkward and unconvincing. "Today has not gone well," he said in a soft whisper.

Aedre gave a small, sad nod in understanding.

"I am angry, nothing more, Aedre. The men in the council do not understand... they do not listen." He paused, watching her reaction. "You know this well, I have complained many times of how they anger me."

Again she nodded.

"One bad day does not mean all days shall be dark." He smiled again, this time with more conviction. "I will speak to them again, I bear no concern. I know they will soon see my way has a good end, that it is right."

She glanced up at him and he held her gaze with his own, not allowing her to look away.

"Do not worry," he soothed. "Our parting will be brief and I will see you as much as I can." Feeling her trepidation, Éomer walked the few paces to where she stood and wrapped her in a warm, comforting embrace. "All is not lost," he murmured, pressing his lips against her brow.

Aedre nodded against his chest, but in her heart she felt no solace in his words, or his arms.

Chapter Text

Aedre sat within her room in a daze. The hour was late and the weather outside harsh. It had been weeks since Éomer's first meeting with the council and still their disagreement raged on. All eyes turned to the outbursts, all ears to the rumours that Éomer King warred against the council, but none knew the reason, save it concerned marriage and the right of the king to elect his own wife.

Many in the Golden Hall sided with the king, believing he should have the right to choose his own bride, to feel no pressure and to hear no commands that didn't serve his will. But, perhaps these very same people with such noble ponderings would not have been so forgiving and understanding had they known the king wished to marry a lowly serving woman.

Aedre had to endure the constant chatter and gossip that swirled around her daily life. Éomer's name was upon everyone's lips, every conversation led to the current disquiet in the hall. Perhaps she could have tolerated all this if she had been allowed to be with him, hold him, listen to him and sleep beside him. But now she was only permitted the briefest of meetings and snatches of moments. Éomer was too concerned with his next spar with the council members and Sunniva too fretful of them being discovered, before the time was right, to allow them more time together than she deemed was necessary.

Aedre slowly felt herself descending into a daily routine that gave her no joy, no pleasure. All she longed for was to see Éomer and once that small, brief moment was done, her bed and the silence of sleep were all she wanted. But, it seemed even sleep deceived her, beckoning with soft lullabies and promises of calm darkness and instead welcoming her into its folds with nightmarish images her dreaming mind conjured to torment her further. Many was the night that she awoke damp with sweat, her heart hammering hard and fast and her breathing panicked, and no one was there to console her and tell her the monsters were not real, that she was safe... for she knew that now she was no longer safe in Edoras. It only took one person to discover she was the cause of the cities upheaval and she feared she would be chased from here in the same way she had been chased so many times in her youth from the villages. She cringed and shuddered at the thought of the people she knew and spent most of her chore time with jeering and taunting her... no longer accepting her.

Then she would be alone in the wilds, expected to fend for herself with no pity or kind words held out to her. Would she revert back to the way she had once lived before Anborn found her? Dirty and unaware of just what lay beyond her own tiny existence? She grasped at the soft material of her skirts at the thought. No, it would be different, for she would never be able to forget what she had lost, her warm room, her clothes, the pride she took in her appearance, the food, her work, Sunniva... and Éomer... Of all things, he would never leave her memories, and the cold, dark nights would seem all the more bitter with his loss.

She felt tears pricking her eyes and blinked hard, allowing them to overflow onto her cheeks. She ran her fingers roughly through her hair, grasping at the strands near her temples and pulling slightly, glad of the small hint of pain the sensation brought before curling herself up upon the bed and bringing her knees up to her chest. In the glow of a slowly dying candle she rocked herself gently, trying in this bleak moment to maintain a firm grasp upon her own mind.

//

Winter curled its unforgiving cold embrace around Rohan. The frosty nights were harsh and few ventured outside of Edoras. The season of snow would soon be upon the land and people huddled together by fires, trying to stave off the chill.

Tonight was to be the mid-winter feast, a time to bring light and laughter into the short days and long nights. The Golden Hall was bustling with activity as preparations were made, great amounts of food cooked and mead and ale barrels brought forth.

Aedre busied herself as best she could, her only positive thought was that perhaps tonight Éomer could slip away from the merriment and they could spend a few precious moments together alone. How she missed the warm brush of his hand against her own, the softness of his lips and calmness of his voice. She willed time to work faster, to come to that point which she so longed for, and silently wished that her hopes would not go unheard.

The feast began in earnest as soon as the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon and the velvet touch of darkness began to cover the sky. A large fire burned in the great hall of Meduseld as people drank, ate and danced to the musical entertainment offered. The strains of the woman currently singing a sweet song of bitter, unrequited love towards a warrior who would never return from battle flowed in lament-filled strings throughout the room. Aedre did her duty of supplying drink to the various long tables. Try as she might she could not help her eyes flitting to where Éomer now sat, surrounded by his close Éored. He drank with a dark frown upon his face, his mood foul and although his companions did their upmost to cheer his spirits it was a losing battle and they finally left him be, sensing he was not welcoming their attentions. Aedre watched as he drained another mug of mead and another, his movements becoming slow and clumsy. Her heart ached with distress at this scene, for she knew he did not drink to induce merriment but to block out the unpleasant thoughts that plagued him constantly, thoughts that told her through his eyes at each of their meetings that he was becoming desperate and his options narrow.

She kept hoping he'd notice her, that he'd look up and see her and they could meet outside of the great hall in the darkened corridor. But his attention remained upon his drink and his mind, it seemed, upon how fast he could consume it. Aedre knew she risked much by her actions, but slowly she worked towards his table, filling outstretched cups as she went, trying her hardest to keep her eyes upon her task. Finally she reached where he sat and managed to hold out her wooden jug of mead to the king's table before any of the other serving women had realised the king had nearly finished his drink. She attended to the many warriors before finally coming to the king, who had just at that moment drank the last dregs of his own drink.

Aedre began to fill his cup before he had even become aware his cup was empty. With a surprised expression that the serving maid had not even waited for his order; he looked up, annoyance clouding his features. But, as his eyes beheld her, his expression fell and instead of a reprimand he gave a small nod of thanks, acknowledging what her boldness signified. Aedre bowed her head respectfully and made her way from the room, hoping he would know she wished him to follow her. She waited in the dim corridor with great apprehension, fidgeting with her hands as her eyes stayed locked upon the door he would come through. She told herself sternly that she must hold patience in her heart; it would look odd if he exited so quickly after a serving maid, better if his companions thought he needed to relieve himself after too much drink, or gather some fresh air into his lungs after the acrid warmth of the hall.

Finally he appeared, although his state caused her heart to pull tightly. He had partaken in far too much mead, his steps uncertain and his mind clouded with the sweet intoxication of the honeyed drink.

Without thinking, she rushed to him to aid his clumsy walk, and he wrapped his arm lightly about her shoulders for support. Knowing that in his current state it was more likely they would be discovered she quickly hurried him down the corridor, her eyes searching for any danger as they walked, until finally she reached a door that led to a room she knew would not be used on this night. She quickly lifted the latch and they both slipped inside. The room was pitch black and she stumbled slightly before slowly sliding her feet forward until her searching hand grasped a table. She groped in the darkness and finally found what she sought. Without hesitation she brought the candle flame to life and a dim glow lighted the room.

Aedre set the candle back down upon the table before helping Éomer into a seat, she then rushed to the door and opened it a crack, her gaze searching the corridor beyond. When she was sure all was well, she closed the door and leant back against it, allowing a moment for her heartbeat to return to a steady pace. Once she felt calmer she turned back to where Éomer sat, currently humming a bawdy song to himself, accompanied every now and again by erratic hand moments that were part of the fun of this tune. Aedre studied him for a moment, if the situation hadn't held such sorrow behind it she surely would have laughed at his current state, but all she felt now was great pity, pity that he had felt he needed to drown himself in drink to escape whatever pursued his thoughts and thinking.

She walked softly forward and stilled his drunken movements with her hands, encircling his wrists. Éomer allowed her to lower his arms and he watched her with an unfocused gaze. He gave out a low, soft chuckle.

"I have drunk far too much mead woman." He gave a boyish grin and Aedre gave a weak smile in reply. "I know not why I did; I wished to see you tonight, not drink." His words were slightly slurred and heavy. "I hoped it would put me in a merry mood, but cup after cup passed my lips and I just... felt nothing."

Aedre bent down beside him, supporting her weight on her knees as she moved her hands to partially enclose his own. "Why is this winter so harsh?" he suddenly bellowed, making her start with surprise. "Everyone's hearts are turned to ice, nothing will melt them... my words have no effect." He bowed his head, causing strands of blonde hair to fall across his face. Slowly Aedre moved his hair away, taking time in the task and allowing her hands to brush reassuringly against his stubbled cheek. Éomer closed his eyes at her caress and a low sigh escaped his lips.

"I miss you," he said, still shielding his gaze from her. "I know not what else to do, I lose hope each day and you are never there to give me courage. I find myself loving and cursing you in the late hours..."

Aedre looked on horrified as tears overflowed from his tightly closed eyes and slid, hot and wet down his cheeks. She had never seen him in such distress and in that moment she wanted to flee the room, flee Edoras, leave all this heartache and sorrow far behind and allow those here now to deal with the aftermath. She would run until her legs gave out beneath her and her breath stilled... anything to not see this unnatural-feeling sight before her.

Hurriedly she began to wipe at the tears, trying vainly to erase them, to erase the very moment. Finally Éomer brushed away her attempts and dried his eyes roughly with his palms before letting out another low chuckle.

"I have drunk far too much mead," he repeated.

Aedre stared at him, uncomfortable in this moment, unnerved by the tears he had shed.

Éomer grinned a little lopsidedly. "That look is not a welcome greeting," he said, touching her cheek lightly with his fingers. "I did not mean to worry you; it is the drink, nothing more..." He paused. "I am better now, more myself."

Aedre gave him a wary look but nodded to his statement, the moment of despair had indeed seemed to pass. He brushed his hand harshly across his face, trying to dispel the effect of the potent liquor. "I should soon go back, they will search for me," he said, referring to his feast companions. "They have already tried to cheer me to the point of torture on this night."

Aedre smiled at his words, sensing the Éomer she knew and depended on within them. For a long moment his eyes lingered over her face, it was a look that spoke of longing and the ache of distance. He reached out once more, his hand finding the nape of her neck and slowly he bent, pulling her face to his and their lips met in a heated kiss. As they parted Aedre let out a small sigh of contentment, how many days had she longed for this meeting. She rose from the floor and softly sat upon his lap, wrapping her arms about his shoulders she pulled them both once more into a passionate meeting. She felt his hands encircle her waist, pulling her closer to his body. His tongue sought hers as lust began to cloud his already misty mind and desire pulsed through his being, stirring emotions and sensations as his body longed for that one connection he knew she was not willing to share.

His palms roamed her form, following the dips and curves until his hand cupped the mound of her breast through her clothing. He allowed his fingertips to follow the outline, his mind bitterly wishing that his own skin was bare against hers, that he could feel the smoothness beneath his touch. He felt her breathing quicken as he worked, his lust flared heatedly within his mind and body, willing him forward.

His mouth again sought hers with a rough kiss while his hands roamed her legs, pushing and guiding her into an astride position upon his lap. His thoughts began to feel hazed, as if he dreamed the situation now happening about him, that he could not prevent his own actions. His fingers sought her skirts, brushing them forcefully up her thighs, exposing bare skin to his touch. He was aware that his lips ground into hers, needing and desperate. He gripped her thighs and urged her forward; forcing their bodies to grind together. At the long awaited contact Éomer let out a low, throaty moan of pleasure and allowed their kiss to break. His eyes opened and focused upon her, the sight of her seemed to bring some of his senses back to him. She was not scared, of that he felt certain, but she wore a questioning look of confusion, her expression speaking that she could not fully understand this, this was strange to her... but she wished to please him.

Éomer felt his lust begin to retreat, as if an icy bucket of water had been poured over his body. Shame burned within him; once again he had allowed too much mead and his own desires to cloud his judgement. Annoyed with himself and the frustration he felt, he pushed her from his lap a little more roughly than he had intended.

Aedre stumbled, only just managing to keep her footing. She righted herself and stared at him questioningly.

"Why did you do nothing to stop me?" he hissed angrily, his frown giving his features an irate expression. He suddenly stood and paced a few steps, as if not knowing what exactly it was he should do. "I am but a man Aedre, a man who loves you, I have needs... needs that you will not fulfil!" He brushed his hair angrily out of his face and turned to look at her. Her large brown eyes stared back at him, reminding him sorely of a dog that had been reprimanded and now sought a kind word from its master. He let out a sigh, knowing his anger was misplaced once again. "I did not mean for my words or actions to be so harsh, but before you stopped me, would you not have stopped me this night?" He shook his head. "If I had not stopped would you have grown to resent and despise me, thinking of me no better than an Orc? I could not bear that."

Aedre cocked her head at his words. She wished bitterly she had her palette with her so she could explain her thoughts, her feelings... but all she could do was give him a small reassuring smile. She couldn't understand why he was referring back to the Orcs, he had not tried to press his weight upon her, or touch her where she did not wish to be touched... their bodies had met, but both wore clothes, no attempt was made to touch her fully... why could he not see this.

Éomer's frown deepened. "I do not understand and I am too drunk to find means for you to explain." He shook his head. "I should return to the feast, I will be missed."

He took a few unsteady steps past her and reached out for the door. Aedre stopped him from touching the latch, her hand curling around his wrist and bringing his palm to rest upon her chest. Éomer studied her for a brief moment, he wanted to give her words of comfort, strength and love, but his tongue felt dry and the bitter loss of his lust still stung his drunken mind. "I must return," he repeated, pulling his hand from her grip. Without looking back he exited the room and made his way along the corridor as Aedre stood at the doorway watching him with haunted, fearful eyes.

Chapter Text

Aedre stayed in the dim little room, for how long she could not say. Minutes or hours, the time felt numbingly the same. What had she done? Éomer was displeased and her little world of comforts and kind words was slowly beginning to crumble around her very being. She could almost feel it flaking and drifting away on the strong winter breeze... all she could do was watch helplessly as it was wrenched from her grasp.

At the thought she shuddered, feeling the chill of the unheated room. She wrapped her arms about her and rubbed the woollen material of her clothing, trying to gain a little heat back into her heavy limbs. She replayed the events that had just occurred over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of her confused feelings. Was that really what he had wanted from her? What the Orcs had wanted from her was what Éomer wanted? She shook her head, hating the feel of the thoughts that enclosed her, she knew them to be true and his prior words came flooding into her memory. She reached out and grasped the side of the table, wrapping her fingers about it and digging her nails into the wood. She shook her head violently... she couldn't... she wouldn't do it, not for him, not for anyone... couldn't he understand what a punishment those hateful actions were to her? The awful, terror filled images they brought screaming to her mind?

She finally allowed her body to give in to the grief and crumpled to the floor in a heap. Again time slid by as she cried softly and self pityingly, clutching her hand uselessly at her breast as if this act would somehow still the pain that seemed to course through her. She finally wiped at her sore eyes and tear streaked cheeks before pulling herself onto her feet. She gave a loud sniff and reached for an old bronze plate that sat upon a nearby shelf and studied her reflection in its polished surface. Her eyes were puffy and her face held a swollen quality to it. She again brushed at her cheeks and eyes before doing her best to tidy her hair. Once she was satisfied she replaced the plate and straightened her skirts, she too would be missed at the feast and would no doubt already be in for a harsh scolding. She exited the room and made her way back up the corridor; she came across her abandoned wooden jug and felt relieved that no one else had been down this way. She picked the weighty object up and prepared herself for the hustle of the feast.

It seemed she had been gone long enough for the music to change from sweet, sad ballads to bawdy battle songs, an occurrence that only happened when the drink had been flowing for a good few hours. She wanted to just do her duty and not look at him, but it was an impossible task, she instantly sought his form and found him to be in the full throes of actions to the current song with the men around him. He laughed and drank as though he had never met her in that tiny room but a short time past, no sorrow or anguish clouded his expression. Aedre bit her lip uncertainly before she felt a sharp pat upon her shoulder.

"Where have you been?"

The harsh reprimand made her spin around to face the person who addressed her.

Aedre bowed her head in shame, as the elder serving woman gave her an angry, vexed look. "Well, just get back to work, if I catch you again..." She didn't need to finish her warning and Aedre nodded meekly before returning to her chore of filling mugs.

The hours slipped by, the men and women who celebrated grew more intoxicated and merry laughter boomed around the great hall. Aedre still couldn't prevent her gaze from finding him, and now with a small moment in which to rest in the shadows she could watch him to her heart's content. She frowned as she saw Guene hovering around the group. She bent over Éomer's shoulder, giving him an unashamed view of her bosom. A remark was made that Aedre could not hear and laughter erupted from the men, Guene too was chuckling, her hand lingering teasing on Éomer's shoulder. When he did not move to remove her touch she moved to the nape of his neck, caressing gently. Her pretty features glowed in the warm firelight, her rosy cheeks full of cheer, youth and beauty.

Aedre felt a strange emotion fill her, one she had experienced many times in her life but never over another being, only ever over want of food, warmth - the things she wanted but the Orcs kept from her. Envy was a bitter feeling and this time it was also hazed with anger. She clutched her hands into balls, allowing her fingernails to bite painfully into skin. Why was it that Guene could do as she wished, while she, Aedre, was allocated to secret meetings and shadowed corners! She wanted to suddenly fling her fists at the wall, to throw the jug by her feet harshly upon the floor, watch it break and the contents flow, to scream until all in the room stared at her in shocked surprise. But instead her eyes were fixed upon Éomer and Guene, unable or unwilling to tear herself from the scene before her.

Suddenly Guene moved, her lips crashing against Éomer's in a long, lingering kiss. When she had finished this act of seduction she whispered something into the king's ear. Éomer let out a bark of a laugh and pushed the woman from him, signifying that he did not need or desire her company. Guene stared at his back as Éomer returned to drinking, her dark look speaking of bitter spite. Within that small moment Guene's eyes connected with Aedre's and her look darkened further, disgust and malice hinting at the corners of her mouth. Guene rushed from the great hall to the sound of more laughter from the king's table.

//

Aedre joined the many other serving maids in clearing the great hall. The hour was late and many of the participants of the feast had retired, a few remained, unwilling to give up their fun or drink. She found her thoughts swam, the mere feeling making her feel a queasiness that seeped through her stomach. She wanted to be far away from the great hall and back in her own little room. When she was finally allowed this rest it very soon became apparent that no matter which way she laid upon her soft bed, her restless limbs could not find ease. She quickly rose and dressed, suddenly aware that she needed to feel the bitter chill night air against her skin. She rushed through the corridors, pulling on a dark grey woollen cloak as she made her way to the side entrance near the kitchens; she had no wish to find herself confronted with a familiar face on this night. She fetched the key and unlocked the large bolt, easing the wooden door open a mere crack, she quickly glanced about, seeing only the guards at their posts. They did not pay her much attention; many maids used this exit to have secret meetings with lovers. She pulled the hood of her cloak further forward, shadowing her face completely and slipped out, closing the door noiselessly behind her. Her soft steps were sure and made little noise. She had intended to just stand in the cool air a moment but her legs seemed to have a different plan in mind. She allowed herself to walk until the path began to slope slightly; she shied away from the bright flames of torches that burned around the great structure of Meduseld, keeping her way to the shadows.

She began to shiver as the icy wind easily found chinks in her armour of warmth and her teeth began to chatter. Finally the stables came into sight, the warm musty smell of horseflesh welcomed her in, and she did not hesitate, but quickly entered. The many horses stabled together made for a cosy building and slowly she began to feel the feeling return to her numb body. She glanced around, the stable seemed empty; it was unusual, normally two stable hands were on duty through the night but it was not unheard of for the young boys to drink a little too much on feast nights and end up in a stupor among the hay. She did not have time to dwell on such thoughts for long as she became crushingly aware that with the renewed heat this place offered, without the cold to preoccupy her mind, the emotions of this night came rushing back. She tried to take in a lungful of air to calm herself but found her breaths were harsh, panicked and fast, the whole world appeared to spin as her body seemed to attack itself with sheer fear. She grasped on to a nearby stable, trying to gain any kind of control but her mind instead brought up images of the horse in the Orc's camp, its eyes rolling white and terrible as dread covered its heart... and her own heart felt as if it would burst. She fell softly to her knees, trying to control her breathing. Just as quickly as the awful emotion came it began to subside and ebb, leaving Aedre gasping for much needed air and tears streamed from her eyes. She gulped a few times before feeling steady enough to look up at her surroundings once again. The stable no longer wavered before her sight, but was still and solid as it had ever been.

Slowly and with uncertainty she stood to her full height, her hand sought her chest, her mind wanting to check that her heartbeat was as it should be. She fixated upon the sights around her, the stables nearby her were for the warriors that would depart on the morrow; a patrol of the surrounding area was carried out as often as possible. These stables were not the boxed, wooden kind, but each horse was tethered to a wooden pole, each compartment separated by another wooden pole, it made it easier for the men to quickly ready their mounts. Aedre's eyes travelled further to the boxed stable she knew to be Firefoot's. With unsteady steps she made her way to it, not pausing until the large grey stallion was before her. She studied the animal for a long time as it in turn cast a curious eye over her. Finally Aedre reached up and Firefoot allowed her to caress his muzzle. The soft, familiar contact made Aedre smile, calmness washing over her as pleasant memories caressed her thoughts. She wished in this still night she could impart all her thoughts and secrets to the noble looking animal before her, but instead she offered him a scratch between his ears.

"Where are the stable hands? Why are you here?"

The voice startled Aedre and she turned quickly, upsetting Firefoot who gave a displeased whinny. Aedre's own surprise increased as she saw the woman standing before her.

"Why are you near Éomer King's horse?" Guene asked accusingly. "This late hour is not for creeping around the stables, do you not agree!" Spite coated her words.

Aedre made no move to answer; she found in this moment that she did not care for Guene's presence, she had no desire to talk to her or listen to what the serving woman had to say. Guene cast a suspicious narrowed eyed look towards Aedre before suddenly she spat forcefully upon the ground in the direction of where Aedre stood.

"You are no better than the manure that is piled within here!" Guene said, in a dangerous hiss. "You are but a lowly servant and not only that but you hold no beauty!" Guene took a step forward and Aedre retreated. "What gives you the right to hold his heart? For many nights I asked myself this over and over." Her look twisted further in anger, making her features seem distorted. "You upset our whole city, you will have Éomer King at war with his own people... you will tear our land apart... and for what... a scarred Orc plaything!"

Aedre's eyes widened in horror at her words.

"Oh yes," Guene whispered menacingly. "I know, I know all about your past! What is more I know what you are!"

Aedre rushed forward, forgetting herself for a moment, she grasped the woman's hands in her own, her eyes begging. Aedre had to make her understand, she couldn't tell anyone, Anborn had told her not to allow anyone to know the truth of her past!

"Get away from me you filthy thing," Guene said, violently shaking Aedre off. "I heard it all!" she said, pointing a finger accusingly. "That night he told you he loved you, I heard it all!" She sneered in disgust. "What noble man would want such a tainted thing as you, you are not of the race of man, you are Orc, you lay with them!" She shivered in disgust. "There is no place for something as wrong as you in this world!" As if she couldn't stand being close to Aedre another moment she began to walk away and Aedre followed, whimpering lowly, unsure what exactly she could do in this awful situation. Finally Guene placed one of the wooden pole stables between herself and Aedre and glared heatedly at the young girl.

"You made me doubt my own lord, my king! I could not see how Éomer King could be all that Rohan needed and wanted from a ruler if he would allow himself into your defiled bed!" She gave a small, insincere chuckle. "But then it came to me, I had been so blind! You, you abomination, you have bewitched him somehow, you are wrong... what woman of man could not go completely mad if an Orc had carnal knowledge of her?" She pursed her lips in mock thought. "No woman could stand that and be as sweet as you deem us all to believe you are, you'd be howling at the moon and talking to the livestock... But you don't talk, do you Aedre? Nor do you seem mad." Again she laughed. "You think you have bewitched our king, but you shall not bewitch me, I gathered protection before I confronted you this night, magic talismans from the wise woman." She fingered a pretty trinket around her neck. "I know not what evil spirit you are but I will see you cast from Edoras before the sun sets, all in Rohan will know of you, your past and what you have done to our ruler!" She smirked. "I caught you at your evil games this very night; you were doing ill work upon the king's own steed... I have but to tell them of you and your wicked ways..."

Aedre stared at her wide eyed, shock slowly turning to a cold curling numbness. How could this be happening? How could Guene think she was an evil spirit sent to destroy Edoras? Aedre frowned at the thought, was she indeed wicked? No, no, she couldn't allow this, she had to protect Éomer, Sunniva and herself... she wouldn't be cast out again, not now when she had so much to lose.

She finally looked up at Guene, knowing somehow she had to make her understand; she had to stop her from destroying everything.

Chapter Text

Aedre clasped her hands together and gestured to Guene, her eyes full of unshed tears, pleading. It seemed for a moment Guene's look softened. She seemed to hesitate, her anger and venom fading as she looked upon the pitiful young woman before her, who gazed up with large brown cow eyes, pleading silently for mercy, for aid... for any act of kindness. Guene couldn't help but allow pity to clutch at her heart; she was not made of stone, although part of her now wished she was.

Guene let out a soft sigh, the sound signalling acceptance of a small defeat within her. "I will give you a chance Aedre, I know the Orcs twisted you with their ways, I still pity you, though all the Valar know I should not! Though you wish to fight against the darkness and evil within you, you cannot..." She paused for a long moment in thought. "I will give you a chance to run from here before you are caught, but still... unless you are gone soon the men of Rohan will catch you, and if they catch you they will burn you as the wicked thing you are. Such a punishment has not been dealt out for many a year, but the old ways demand that evil be burnt." She narrowed her eyes. "But I have a heart, though I know I should give you none of its kindness... run to the mountains, to a cave, and never come here more."

Aedre stared at her, her mouth slackened in shock as she came to realise that there would be no understanding for Guene, this woman had tarred Aedre as an evil being that had no place among the race of men. Would the people of the Golden Hall believe her? If Guene told all that would listen would they truly burn her? Aedre felt that same awful fearful feeling building, clawing within her chest.

Aedre took a few more steps forward, her feet heavy and leaden. The stable still separated Guene from her and the horse within gave an uncertain whinny at having two people standing at either end of it. Slowly and without real thought Aedre reached up and stroked the animal's soft muzzle and the horse responded, seemingly happy to have a gesture of reassurance. Aedre closed her eyes, the connection seeming to calm her fear to a dull thud.

"What are you doing? Flee from here! Do no more ill work!" Guene said, her tone once again laced with mistrust and hatred. "The dark ways the Orcs taught you are no threat to the world of men, I fear you not!" But she was afraid: why, Aedre did not fully understand.

Aedre opened her eyes slowly and stared at this serving woman of Edoras and hated her. Never before had she despised someone as much as she had despised the Orcs, she had never felt such feelings towards another child of men and yet, here this unusual feeling was. Aedre gave a small silent breath of laughter within her own mind, the sound bitter and sorrowful... so this form of hate existed in man's world too... She had not realised a strange smile had twisted upon her lips.

Guene eyed her uneasily. "You have nothing to be merry about, I shall scream and they shall come, guards and men with ropes ready to bind you! I see now you truly deserve no pity!" Her eyes spoke more silent ill words. "You are nothing but a wicked husk!"

Again Aedre laughed that toneless hollow laugh, but this time it came from her lips. Her hand lingered softly upon the horse's muzzle.

It seemed the race of men were really no better than Orcs, Guene was a greedy, selfish being that wanted to hurt, to kill others so she could get what she wanted. Aedre felt sure there was indeed more to Guene's little outburst than just fear for her king and lands. She was unwilling to give understanding and kindness and was far too easy to judge what suited her own goals... no, the two worlds were not so different after all. Her thoughts darkened with a sudden plummet and anger bubbled from within her... they were all the same! Suddenly her face twisted, a dark frown clouding her features as she dug her fingernails into the animal's nose and dragged with all her strength across tender flesh. She instantly felt the wetness of blood spring beneath her actions and the animal gave a surprised and terrified cry, rearing onto its hind legs and letting out a noise of pain. Aedre backed away as the horse came down heavily upon its front legs. Guene gave a small low shriek of shock at the situation and in response to the noise the animal kicked out its back legs, connecting harshly with her body. As the heavy blow hit Guene she was sent reeling backwards as the pain seared through her entire being. She would have screamed but the wind was forcefully removed from her lungs and she landed with a dull, heavy thud upon the ground where she promptly began moaning pitifully.

Aedre narrowed her eyes, the anger holding her in its firm grasp for a moment. She flicked her hand violently, dispelling some of the sticky gore that clung to her fingertips. The horse still whinnied in hurt surprise at what had just befallen him, but Aedre now paid the animal little heed. Her focus was upon the groaning woman on the floor. Quickly she walked to her side. Guene clutched her torso as she whimpered and moaned, tears of pain coursing down her cheeks.

Aedre hesitated... at the sight of this injured woman the anger and frustration that had only moments ago fuelled her began to ebb away, leaving a strange hollow feeling inside along with a bitter taste of regret. With her rage gone, her determination to lash out and hurt faded... what was she to do now? She'd caused this, she'd wanted to cause this... and now what was she to do? She could feel her own eyes welling with tears of frustration and desperation. She felt pulled near in two by her own thoughts, they gabbled out advice, telling her to to be of aid to Guene, to beg forgiveness and run for help... But the other part of her spied the heavy rock lying nearby and her mind whispered words of fear and panic into her ear... her choices were few and her time preciously thin, and waning with each moment that passed. If she aided Guene, if she gave into the part of her that wanted to run, cry and ease her remorse...what would become of her then? If Guene told her story they would surely listen now, they would heed the actions of violence and turn their hateful gazes upon Aedre...

Aedre sniffed loudly, brushing away the wetness upon her face and sank to her knees beside the injured woman. What should she do? The same question rolled over and over in her mind endlessly. She felt her mind begin to scream advice and she could listen to none of it clearly as panic began to clutch at her, everything was lost... everything was done... she was lost...

Yet within her torrent of thoughts, her hearing pricked to the sound of a deep, rough voice that surfaced, echoed and grew louder with each ragged breath she took. She cocked her head, listening, and suddenly the tone hit her with its familiarity, feeling like a sickening blow to her stomach.

'What's It thinking, kill the man flesh, It knows how.'

Aedre placed her hands over her ears, her skin crawling at the mere sound of that voice. She shook her head violently, not wanting to listen, but it seemed the voice wormed itself into her mind. Part of her knew that the voice came from within... was always there... always waiting...

'If the man flesh lives, It dies!'

Again Aedre shook her head, it was wrong, the Orc was wrong, it had no experience of living in the world of men, it knew nothing!

'Man flesh, Orcs, we all likes to hurt and kill, we are the same...'

Aedre heard her breaths coming in harsh gasps and she tried to block out its words.

'We did teach It how to defend Its own... kill the man flesh!' Aedre could hear the deep rasping breathing of the Orc and gave a small whimper, it seemed so close, she imagined she could smell its stink. 'It wants to keep pretty things, nice food... that man flesh king... It wants doesn't It?'

Aedre gave a small frightened nod.

'Then It must get rid of the one that challenges... understand?'

She gave another nod, just wanting to please the voice so it would go and leave her in peace. After a few tense moments had passed, slowly she allowed her hands to slip from her ears, knowing the voice had thankfully gone, but it had left her feeling weak and sick. Aedre glanced around from instinct, she knew she was still alone with Guene, but the voice had made her uneasy, unsure. Finally her eyes fell leadenly upon the rock lying nearby, she stared at the object for what seemed many crushing moments. Her fingers lingered over it, not touching it, as her will and mind fought a silent battle before she allowed her hand to curl around it, feeling the hard coolness of the stone against her palm. She pulled the heavy item to her lap.

With great effort she turned her attention to Guene who now seemed to be only gasping in pain, her moaning had stopped, her breathing no more than rasps of air. Slowly Aedre leant over her and looked down upon the wounded woman with a mixture of pity and curiosity.

Guene gave another gasp. "You must get aid!" she said breathlessly, her voice struggling to make audible sounds.

Aedre nodded slowly and gently lowered her face to Guene's, pressing their cheeks softly together. Softly she hushed Guene's gasps, her hand coming to stroke her hair comfortingly.

"Help me!" Guene croaked, finding her voice was failing. She wished to scream but knew she would not be able to and still the strange creature held her and rocked her gently as if consoling her. Was Aedre sorry for hurting her? Guene closed her eyes and pleaded for it to be so.

Finally Aedre moved slowly away, sitting up once again. She smiled and nodded, her lips pushing and pursing until a strange mimicked word escaped her lips in a dull sound...

"Elp." An echoed sound and nothing more.

"Yes, Aedre get me help!" Guene could hardly understand the words her own lips spoke they were so soft.

Again Aedre nodded and Guene felt her heart lighten. For a moment she truly thought her life was safe. But the sight of the dark rock high above her head sent any hope falling away in an ebbing stream of regrets. She tried to scream, to move, but the great wave of crushing pain soon halted all her wishes and all her thoughts, replaced by the warm trickle of her very life blood as it left her. The light faded from her eyes and silence held sway over the stables.

//

Aedre sat in the darkness, she was no longer in the musty stable, but had retreated with care and silence to the kitchens, which were now dark, the fire that had once burned in the hearth extinguished. She sat hunched upon the floor, her knees pulled to her chest as she rocked her body softly and small pitiful whimpers escaped her lips. She couldn't remove the image from her mind of Guene... of the blood that had flowed and the murmurs of dying that had spilled forth with her last breaths. Aedre had killed her. She had taken the heavy cold rock and brought it down upon Guene's head with desperate force, the noise of cracking bone and corrupted flesh still invaded her mind; she seemed unable to cease the endless nightmare that played unrelentingly in her memories. Despair washed over her as she tried desperately to fight what she had done, of what it could all mean.

She glanced down at her own hands, hands that bore spackles and streaks of blood. The liquid had gathered into the creases of her palms and Aedre found herself wondering if she would ever be able to wash it away, it seemed to have embedded itself within the very pores of her skin. She shook herself inwardly, her thoughts beginning to pull at her to take action, to make sure she was not caught. But Aedre found that part of her wanted to be found, to be blamed when they found the body of Guene... Guene who would never wake up... never eat, sleep or draw breath again. She placed her brow upon her knees and tried to still her thoughts once more, to gain any kind of clarity and strength.

Finally she rose shakily, knowing she could not stay here forever, and dusted off her skirts. She found herself mildly grateful that the blood had not seemed to have gotten upon her clothing too much, the apron around her waist was the worst affected and she untied it and placed it into a drawer she knew was not used often. She would come back again when it was quiet and throw it upon the fire. She went to a jug of water and cleaned her hands in a small bowl with some fatty smelling soap, she watched as the liquid she washed in turned a light shade of pink and when she again removed her hands they were clean and fresh smelling, no traces left of the deed she had committed.

She quickly threw the used water down a nearby drainage furrow and watched as it flowed away. Aedre patted and tidied her hair and straightened her clothing, busying herself with useless tasks, trying to conceal what she had done from anyone she might meet as well as herself. She again placed the large shawl back over her head and left the kitchens, her destination set not for her own room, but the king's chambers.

Chapter Text

The corridors of stone rushed past Aedre's sight, the coldness of her path mimicking the icy feeling that clutched at her chest, seeming to cause a strange pain that was neither real nor imagined. The flickering flames of the torches that lent a small glow to the night gloom seemed to mock her with spluttering sounds of warmth, reminding her vividly just how frozen her very insides seemed, her limbs numb and stiff.

Her mind screamed at her to make haste, to finally be within Éomer's chambers, enclosed in his warm embrace. He would chase the bitter feeling away, his smile, his face... if she could hold them in her gaze she felt all would be forgiven, forgotten, and she would once again be his little Aedre. The door loomed before her, seeming larger in the shadowed glow, the carved horse, its eyes upon her. She imagined she felt it give her a disfavoured look and the torrent of emotions this night had stirred within her bubbled to a point she felt she could no longer contain. Disregarding the stealth she had been bidden to always have when visiting the king she pummelled her fists hard upon the door, gasps coming from her lips from the effort and hot tears brimming from her eyes. It seemed an age passed as she willed, begged for the door to open and then the click of a bolt and the heavy creak of wood signalled her wish had finally been granted.

As the door let out a chink of light from within the chamber Aedre could not wait a moment longer and barged into the door, demanding admittance and flung herself unthinkingly into the warmth of the man within, her arms encircling his waist, clinging to him with all the strength she had. She heard him make a low sound of surprise and then he was moving her, forcing her to walk a few steps forward so he could fully lock the door once again.

They stood in silence for many long moments as Aedre refused to move and wept with uncontrollable tears that shook her entire frame with shivers of desperate emotion and Éomer tried to reclaim his mind from sleep and drink. She felt his hand linger upon her back in a small form of bewildered comfort.

Finally he cleared his throat. "Aedre." His voice was thick and slow. "What has happened?" He tried to pull away but she continued to cling to him with lament and anguish, letting out a high pitched whimper when he tried to remove her clasp upon his waist.

Éomer's thoughts rallied and his senses broke through some of the intoxication that still held sway after the feast. "Are you hurt?" His voice held a small note of panic. "Tell me." But still the young woman clung to him, silent save for the sounds of her tears and distress. He allowed her to cry, understanding that explanations were not needed in this moment but comfort and succour were. He wrapped his arms around her thin form and pulled her body closer to his, bending his cheek to her hair and hushing her sobs.

Time slowly passed by as he struggled with his need to help, to fix whatever had caused her grief and his knowledge that her need was to be still and weep. Finally her sobs subsided to little gasps of breath and the fingers that clutched so heatedly at his shirt loosened their grip. Éomer pulled back slowly, wanting her to be aware that he was not going far. His eyes connected with hers and she instantly looked away, avoiding his gaze.

Éomer chanced a small smile of reassurance. "Are you hurt?"

Aedre shook her head sadly.

"What is wrong?" He repeated his earlier question.

Again she shook her head.

"Write upon your pallet for me; let me help with whatever has distressed you."

He made to move and fetch the object but her hand darted out, her fingers wrapping roughly around his wrist as her fingernails dug into his flesh. She shook her head more forcefully, signalling she did not wish to talk.

He let out a huff of frustration. "How can I aid you if you won't tell me?" She glanced up at him but once more averted her eyes quickly. "You can tell me all that is troubling you, Aedre, you can trust me."

Aedre's face fleetingly showed a pained expression. Yes, she could trust him... she valued his trust, but what would his thoughts be of her if he knew... knew all she had done on this night? Killed one of his own mere hours ago. She felt the tears renewing in her eyes, painful and sore. Coming here, to him had meant to make everything right. Why could she not banish these feelings and continue as before, why did the serving woman's face endure in her thoughts?

She glanced up at him once more. Would he care that she had taken someone's life to protect him... them? He smiled, his face full of concern and her hope crumbled... yes he would care, he would no longer love her, send her away into the wilds, far from his side and she could not bear the thought. Was it only a matter of time before the finger of accusation fell upon her? The body, Guene's body, would be found on the morn and then all would be lost. What if the guards had seen her, had she been careful enough, had they recognised her?

Aedre's mind raced, she had so few choices, so few paths left open to her. She had to find a way to make sure the king didn't send her from his sight. Panic clutched at her and she was aware her breathing was hard and laboured causing Éomer's brow to crease in worry. There had to be a way... she had to think, she needed time to think.

She felt Éomer leading her towards the warmth of the fire. He gently helped her into a large carved wooden chair and left her staring into blankness for a moment before he returned with a warming glass of mead. He pushed the cup into her hands and she came back from her inner reflection.

"Drink this," he instructed, "you are cold."

Aedre's gaze drifted to the cup within her grasp and gave a small nod before drinking the liquid with a few noisy gulps. Éomer crouched before her, his brow still furrowed with many lines of anxiety.

"Better?" he asked.

Aedre gave another small nod, unsure if the sweet drink had helped at all.

"Why will you not tell me?" His voice was soft but demanding. "Did something happen after the feast, were you scolded?"

Aedre shook her head; her gaze meeting his properly as unshed tears clung to her lashes. He studied her closely trying to gain any kind of hint to her distress and Aedre found herself wanting to look away, to defend herself from his probing while at the same time hoping he would suddenly find out her secret. Finally his expression sagged slightly in understanding.

"I see," he mumbled.

Aedre's eyes widened.

"I have been the cause of your tears and lament." He shook his head as if calling himself a fool. "I should have come to find you after the feast." He paused, his hand covering hers. "I treated you with ill words and did nothing to soothe the fears they may have caused you to feel."

Aedre stared at him, relief and sadness mingling into one strange feeling.

"I know these many days have been a source of hardship, our meetings are fleeting or time not always well spent. I should not have been gruff with you; I drank too much to ease my own fears and burdens." He let out a low breath. "I was selfish."

Aedre reached out and touched his cheek softly. All she longed for was a simple life spent within this man's company, seeing him be merry and smile. She could cause this man no reason to grieve, even if it meant she would be deceiving him. At this small thought something flickered within her, a way to keep his mind focused upon her as the woman he wanted by his side. Aedre would give him that which he most desired; casting aside her own feelings on the matter... the punishment was worth their future.

She quelled the queasiness the mere thought brought to her mind's eye, pushed back the images of her past life and turned her gaze fully to meet his. It took effort to look upon him, to give him a small smile that she could only hope showed true meaning for she felt no link to the emotions that smiling so often brought. Her hand which still grasped the mug clutched the vessel tighter as her whole body seemed to begin an unpleasant shuddering.

Éomer's hand had come to meet hers that was still softly pressed against his cheek. He smiled again before a frown graced his brow in the briefest of flickers. "Are you still cold, you are trembling?"

Aedre shook her head; she didn't feel cold, she felt as if all her senses were deadened. She knew she had to act quickly before her nerve was lost and with a surge of renewed emotion she moved her lips swiftly to his, connecting them in a kiss. Her mouth hungrily moved against him, giving him little choice but to respond in kind. She allowed the empty mug to fall to the ground. Her hands shook involuntarily as she pushed them gently against his shoulders and then slid them down to the knotted ties that held his shirt in place, with uncertain fingers she pulled and tugged until all were open. She could feel his lips becoming reluctant and Aedre tried to hold them together with her own urging kisses but it was to be in vain as he soon pulled away, his breathing heavy and his eyes questioning her actions.

He opened his mouth as if to speak but no words came forth. "Aedre." He finally managed. "I don't..." His eyebrows knitted together as he continued to ask her silently for an answer to her behaviour. He got to his feet as she offered no explanation. "We cannot do this, any of this," he said, shaking his head as he spoke. "You know not what you ask." He turned back to her, the frown in full force on his features. "You ask me not to be a man; to only venture so far... it is a dangerous game to play for both of us." Aedre stared at him, unmoving from her seat. "You cannot see where this would lead as anything more than a punishment; I would not will you to do anything just to please me... is that why you came to me tonight? You believe I am displeased and would give into punishment as penitence?"

Aedre could see the anger, confusion and distress etched into his features and rose from her seat. His words were not fully false, perhaps he knew her better than she had previously deemed, but he was wrong as to her motives... she had decided this was the only way. With certain and confident steps that her mind did not feel nor mirror she walked to him, her hand reached out for his face once more. He flinched at the contact, still furled in his ill mood. Aedre stroked his skin with feather light touches of her fingertips, giving him a moment to calm and gather himself; drink always had made his reactions more forceful to the situations around him. When he again glanced up his face had lost a little of the annoyance. She shook her head slowly and he frowned at her in confusion.

Knowing she would have to speak to make him understand she walked to the table her pallet lay upon and quickly wrote a scrawl of words before handing it to him.

Éomer read them aloud. "No punishment... happiness."

His eyes jerked to her form, surprise holding sway over him. "I don't understand," he said, knowing he sounded foolish, he had understood the words and her meaning all too well, but his mind would not believe it.

Aedre took the pallet from his grip and replaced it upon the table, her own gaze lingering over the words, knowing them to be true, this was for their happiness. It seemed as long as she focused on playing this part her mind stayed quiet of panic and fear at the situation she was slowly weaving and wrapping around herself. She returned to stand before him and placed both hands on his cheeks before giving a certain nod, willing him to understand she was satisfied, this was her choice.

"Aedre, I..." He again tried to voice his concern but Aedre placed a firm finger to his lips before allowing her mouth to find his, silencing his conscience for the time being. She roughly pulled at his shirt, not allowing him a moment more to think, to dwell upon her sudden change of heart. Her lips worked heatedly against his and he responded hungrily. She continued to tug at his clothing until he finally relented and shrugged the open shirt off, allowing it to carelessly fall to the floor. His hands roamed her body, lingering over curves and caressing exposed skin and Aedre took some solace in the fact that his touch was reassuring, warm and left a tingling sensation in its wake. She felt his fingers working at the ties of clothing at her side and aided him as best she could, pulling the heavy garments of an overdress and warm shift over her head until they both stood before each other in no more than undergarments.

Éomer's breaths were laboured and his voice low and deep as he spoke. "You are sure of this?" His eyes glinted in the candlelight and she saw true contentment within their hazel depths.

Again she offered him a nod, her insides tugging unpleasantly for this to be over, for the deed to be done.

His mouth was again upon her own as he allowed passion to wash over him, the kiss full of want, longing and need, his tongue kneading hers with a slow gentle rhythm. His hands and fingers mimicked his feeling of lust, caressing with an impatient need to touch every inch of her body as he guided her towards the fur laden bed with soft urges. Aedre allowed herself to be lowered down and his lips moved to her neck, leaving soft feathered kisses across her collarbone and throat. She pressed her lips firmly together as his weight bore down upon her, determined to not let out a whimper of protest at the sensation, determined to continue with her only plan. His touch searched her body, gently kneading her breast with tender pressure. Aedre was not fully surprised that this sensation was not unpleasant and she permitted small gasps to pass through her lips, gaining some comfort from the fact she could indeed make some kind of noise. His caress moved, hitching up her shift to expose her body and she cringed at the situation, at allowing him to see her without cloth covering her, but made no move to stop him as his warm mouth sought her flesh, his tongue lingering sweetly over sensitive skin, causing a sensation almost akin to light teasing. His fingers searched the tender skin of her inner thighs and then pressed between her legs, lightly at first as his other hand guided her legs apart but as lust clouded his mind his strokes became more confident and certain, his fingertips moving deeper and his own breathing becoming heavier.

Aedre's hands sought the bedclothes around her and twisted the material in her grasp, holding on to it as if her very life would be lost if she let go. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut as his breathing turned to soft groans of pleasure, she felt him moving, his body's weight now fully upon her as his hand guided his next movement... and then it was done, his hips gently thrust forward and he entered her. Aedre turned her head into the bedclothes as the sickening feeling fell leaden like a rock within her stomach. Her teeth bit down hard into her bottom lip and she tasted the salty flavour of her own blood. She tried to grasp frantically with her mind, as it spiralled and swirled in silent distress, for the reasons why she was doing this, why this was good, but all she heard was the grunts and groans of the king above her... To her ears they were so similar in sound to the Orc's...

Chapter Text

Aedre lay within the king's bed, wrapped in furs and comforted by the heat radiating from the man now slumbering beside her. She had tried many times to close her eyes, to allow sleep to whisk her away from this situation, but it would not come and as the dark hours slipped by, her thoughts lingered upon unpleasant things.

The deed she had just endured had seemed brief in the aftermath, but during, it had been an eternity of trying to contain her own emotions. She had wanted to lash out, to cry, beg or scream for him to stop, but she had forced herself to endure it. The small cut she now bore upon her lip was sore and tender and her fingernails had left indentations within the skin of her palms, but she wore them with a strange pride. She had done what needed to be done and now her heart felt a little easier, that all would be well. She shifted her position as the place between her legs throbbed uncomfortably and tried to dwell upon better thoughts.

After the act was completed Éomer had shuddered, his whole body bearing a hint of trembling and he'd rested his brow against her shoulder, regaining himself back from pleasure before turning his attention to her. His lips pressing softly against her cheeks and brow, the contact reassuring and much needed. He'd slowly and gently lifted his weight from her body and come to rest beside her, his fingers busying themselves with removing stray strands of hair from her face. It seemed that a strange awkwardness had arisen in the air around them and for a long time the king was silent.

"Are you in pain?" He finally voiced a question.

Aedre glanced at him and saw no reason to lie; one untruth seemed more than enough for this night. She nodded, feeling the hot discomfort between her thighs.

Éomer frowned. "I did not mean to hurt you."

She smiled awkwardly up at him, giving the reply that she knew that only too well.

He seemed to hesitate before he again spoke. "I know I cannot expect you to suddenly feel what I will you to feel, in what we shared, but can I at least hope you did not feel punished?" His tone held a shaky hint of hope.

Aedre averted her gaze, it seemed she would once again have to lie; it was a foolish wish to think otherwise. She shook her head and smiled, but it seemed her expression and will were not enough to fool him completely.

"I understand this was... difficult, that it will take time, but we have much time laid out before us. I wish for us to be comfortable with each other... if that be talking or... this." His determination in discussing this subject seemed to be wavering. "I would not have you feel you must do this for me, it must be something we share in equal meeting, do you understand?"

Aedre cocked her head slightly, listening to his words and finding a vague comprehension within them. She gave a slow nod and Éomer returned it with a smile, wrapping his arm about her waist.

"The hour is late, let us sleep and we can think upon this more in the morn."

Aedre gave a small noise of agreement and felt him settle into the pillows.

When morning light finally entered the room Aedre awoke from the fitful stupor she had fallen into just before dawn. Her whole body felt tired and her eyes ached from lack of sleep, she squinted in the brightness, blissfully ignorant in that small moment of waking, when the mind has not yet remembered memories best left forgotten.

But this lasted only but a fleeting amount of time as her senses came crashing down around her, reminding her just what this light signalled. She pulled the furs up to her chin, suddenly wishing she could stay wrapped in their warmth, but she felt the man beside her stirring and she knew soon she would have to rise and face whatever would come on this day. Silently she stilled the unpleasant fluttering within her breast.

They both rose, Éomer looking tired, groggy and bedraggled from his evening of drink, but a small satisfied smile pulled at his mouth, making the ache within his temples seem little to worry over. They ate and drank, a little bread and sweet berry juice that was left over from the king's supper. The air still seemed thick between them to Aedre's senses despite their conversation the night before and as they dined Aedre's convictions and strength began to waver. Had she done the right thing? Had she been foolish to think all would change from one bed chamber meeting? Was all yet still at stake?

"You seem far from me this morn." Éomer's voice broke the stagnant silence and startled her back to the present.

Aedre offered him a small smile as she continued to chew nervously upon a piece of bread.

"Your lip." Éomer's brows rose in surprise and he reached across the small wooden table they dined at, his hand skimming her chin in a gentle caress as his fingertips gently touched the cut upon her bottom lip.

Aedre quickly put her own hand to her mouth, hoping to hide the wound but knowing it was a fruitless task. Instead she took Éomer's hand and pushed it away with a small shake of her head, telling him silently that it did not trouble her, nor was it of importance.

Sensing her sudden reluctance, Éomer gave an uncertain smile and nod before returning to his own meal.

They dressed leisurely in the warm sunlight that bathed the room and tended to their appearances until both felt fit to face the many eyes of The Golden Hall. Éomer turned to her and wrapped his hands about Aedre's waist before pulling her close into an embrace.

"Winter is coming to an end," he mumbled softly into her hair. "So will these troubled times, and then all will be well."

Aedre pressed her cheek against his chest, taking more from those words than he could ever know.

He glanced at the window. "It is still early; you will not have been missed yet."

Aedre nodded and pulled herself away from his comfort.

"We shall meet again soon, I will try and make our parting brief."

She offered him a smile and touched his arm in reassurance of his words before leaving the king's chambers.

/

Sunniva was bustling around the kitchens when Aedre reached them. She offered the young girl a warm greeting and bid her to sit at the table while she prepared a good meal for them to begin the day. Although Aedre had already eaten a little it suddenly seemed like the thought of food caused her stomach to bubble and protest as a bowl of hot fresh oats and milk was placed before her. Knowing Sunniva would only begin to worry if she showed reluctance to eat, Aedre spooned the meal quickly into her mouth, giving her tongue little chance to taste anything.

"Goodness," Sunniva said with a grin. "You are hungry today, did the feast tire you?"

Aedre gave half a smile and a weak nod in return.

"I will take the king his meal, he is busy today planning a new meeting with the council, it is best his mind is focused." She patted Aedre tenderly upon her shoulder before picking up a tray of food and leaving the kitchens.

Aedre's eyes stayed focused upon Sunniva until the older woman was out of sight and then her gaze snapped to the drawer she had hidden her apron in the night before. Slowly she rose from her seat, her body and mind protesting violently at her willed actions. If only she stayed sat here as she did most mornings before her work would begin, perhaps she could forget what had happened and that apron would stay hidden... Her thoughts raced as she stood as if frozen, alone in the dim kitchens. What if it had all been some strange dream and she had never gone to the stables at all, her eyes leadenly moved to the doorway once again. What if soon Guene would come merrily into the room, alive and well?

For a small moment the delusion seemed to be working and Aedre felt a heaviness lift from her, but her mind would not let her be and she finally turned her attention back to the drawer and took uncertain heavy steps towards it. She knew what she'd find before she even reached out for the handle, before the linen blood-smeared apron was held within her own grasp... She knew... It was all fact, and no wishing or deluded imaginings would make that not so.

Her eyes darted to the doorway as she clutched the evidence of her sin. Footsteps across stone echoed down the passageway and she quickly shoved the garment back into its hiding place before hurrying back to her place at the table, her heartbeat hammering hard within her ears. She cursed herself inwardly as a few serving women entered the kitchen for their own morning meal; she could have tossed it on the roaring fire and had done with it, if only she hadn't hesitated, if only she hadn't been so afraid. But the moment had passed and she could do nothing but pretend to listen as the women about her made ready for their own day and Aedre tried vainly to ignore the cold feeling that crept across her.

/

The morning dragged as Aedre accomplished her tasks one by one, finding comfort in each thing she was bidden to do. The work, it seemed, prevented her mind from dwelling upon things that she did not wish to, or was not ready to confront.

It was a good few hours past dawn when one of the women came hurrying into the kitchen, a slight glisten of sweat upon her brow. Sunniva quickly looked up from her task of skinning a wild hare and the other women soon followed suit, abandoning their chores as they waited for the woman to catch her breath and speak of why her entrance had held a note of urgency to it.

"It's Guene." The woman finally managed, wiping the damp from her face with one distracted hand movement. "They say before dawn the guards found her dead."

Aedre's eyes widened, her breath catching like a stone within her throat, preventing her from drawing air into her lungs. She'd known this would come, but she had childishly hoped, willed, that it would not.

"Dead." The murmured word spread across the kitchen as some repeated it in surprise.

Aedre glanced around the room; perspiration began to bead across her skin making her feel uncomfortable, the palms of her hands hot and slick. She took in each face that listened and felt some small relief to find all bore expressions of shock and upset that could not be too different from her own.

Sunniva rose from her seat, setting the hare upon a table nearby and Aedre's eyes followed the steps she took, her heart beating fast at the thought of the older woman's eyes suddenly falling upon her and discovering her wickedness with one glance. She felt exposed and vulnerable, but instead Sunniva began to speak. "Where did you hear this Otha? Who says such things?" Her voice bore a stern warning that a mere rumour or gossip would be dealt with harshly.

All eyes turned to Sunniva for reassurance and authority.

Otha hesitated. "One of the stable boys, Aesc, I heard it from him not but a few moments ago. He said that none were allowed into the stables to do their work because a woman had been found in there, dead. He managed to get a look inside from one of the side holes and he swore it was Guene he saw lying there."

Sunniva's face still held sternness to it but her eyes betrayed her concern. "I'm not trusting upon a stable boy's word and nor should you Otha! You should know better than to come in here with no more than a gossip's promise." She turned to the other women who were now exchanging nervous glances. "Get back to work now; the whole of Meduseld cannot stop for want of one boy's loose lips." She gave them all a steely look and they picked up their work and half-heartedly began once again. "Go on back out Otha; if you stay you'll just brag more folly."

The woman took heed and left the kitchens to return to her own chores. Sunniva glanced around the room, making sure all were focusing, before she too left the room as casually as she could manage. But as soon as she was past hearing, the women began to talk in hushed whispers of whether there was indeed any truth in the tale.

/

Sunniva walked briskly down the many stone corridors, greeting people politely as she went until finally she reached her destination. It was unusual for her to seek advice in the higher ranks, her dealings with Éomer were due merely to her presence as his nursemaid when he was a babe, and her place within Edoras was firmly imprinted upon her mind. She was but a servant but being close to Éomer had meant she had easily found small bonds with his own comrades. Although her first wish was to go to Éomer king, she felt she could not seek out his reassurance upon what could be a trivial matter of rumours, but the man she now sought was one she knew well and felt she could ask aid from if she should need it.

She knocked quickly upon the door before her, as her mind crackled with annoyance. She knew all too well that if such gossip wasn't quickly put to rest it could cause unrest and slow work. It was a few moments before the door opened and Gamling's solemn expression took in his new visitor.

"Forgive me for disturbing you Lord Gamling, but I have an urgent matter I must discuss with you."

Gamling gave a certain nod. "You've come because of the death in the stables," he said, matter-of-factly. "I had thought of coming to seek you out also, but I have yet to find a moment to leave my rooms."

Sunniva's mind jolted. "Then it's true?" she whispered. "I thought it but useless gossip." Sunniva's hand covered her mouth as she tried to take in the news.

"It would be best if you came inside, I know this will cause grief to those you oversee."

Sunniva gave a small nod and Gamling stood aside allowing her to enter. He showed her to a small seat near a crackling fire.

"It seems a stable boy came across her, she was already cold." He took a larger chair opposite her as he spoke.

Sunniva's eyes were wide as he talked. "Was it Guene?"

Gamling gave a nod in response. "I went to see for myself after the guards summoned me, as foul play is suspected." He paused for a long moment. "I'd have known Guene anywhere, we spent many a merry feast together."

"Foul play?" Sunniva repeated. "You mean she was killed?" Sunniva shook her head. "How can this be, how can this be... this cannot happen in the Golden Hall."

Again Gamling paused and rubbed at the large whiskers upon his chin. "Yes, killed," he said, ignoring her desperate words.

"How? Why?" Sunniva blurted out the questions. It seemed he was reluctant to go any further and Sunniva felt her patience wavering. "I am not unknown to such unpleasant things my lord, I have been through many wars. You know this only too well."

He gave a nod and relented. "It seems she was killed by a heavy blow to her chest, it crushed her... she would not have survived it... but it was not that which brought her death."

Sunniva waited for him to continue as Gamling took a long swig of a drink. "Someone crushed her head with a rock... if I hadn't known Guene so well from the way she wore her clothing... the violence was fierce..." He stopped for a moment as he took in a breath. "It curdled my stomach."

Sunniva took in a swift breath of surprise. "She... poor girl... poor lass," Sunniva said, shaking her head. "No one should die in such a heated and violent way, the Valar will surely frown upon us."

Gamling seemed to take little notice of her lament and prayers to the Valar. "I'm sure no one planned to kill her, it was too rushed... too clumsy." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe a jilted boy... she had many. But whoever did the deed will not have been thorough and there will be something to tie them to the death of Guene." He again paused, seeming to be lost in his own musings. "They'll let something slip sooner or later." Gamling let out a low sigh as he took another long drink from his cup. "It has been many a year since murder haunted Edoras, many a winter since Rohirrim turned against Rohirrim... I hope it does not foretell dark days to come."

Chapter Text

Aedre's chores had thankfully taken up most of the passing hours, leaving her little time to think, and mid morning came and went, but still the worry and fretting would not fully let her be. Where had Sunniva gone? She couldn't help the gut curling idea that perhaps, somehow, Sunniva would discover her sinful act... or someone else of the Golden Hall would know the truth and then they would come for her, with ropes to pinch and bind her limbs and torches of flame to burn away her flesh. In her life she had seen many a person die at the cruel demands of fire, the Orcs had often used it to flush out anyone hiding in their homes for safety in the villages. But some were too afraid to leave what they knew, bearing the heat as long as their will could, and then they'd break out of the small shacks of burning wood, their cries of agony echoing into the acrid air... but Aedre also knew what fire, what heat could do to her own flesh. At this thought she looked down at her scarred hand and softly touched the rough skin, shivering slightly at the remembrance as she walked through the corridors.

Before she quite realised it, she stood outside of the stables. Part of her had wanted to come here, but now she was before the great wooden building with many people crowded around, talking of death and murder, she wanted no more than to turn and run back into the hall, back to her room where none of this could assault her senses. Yet here she stood.

The people who had gathered all chattered at once, their gossip and words varying from the logical to the ridiculous, whispers of evil spirits and ill omens along with jilted lovers and drunken mistakes. Aedre stood amongst them all, acting as if she were one of them and knowing with every ounce of her being that she was not, that she could not be like them after what she had done. She willed her legs to move and take her away from here, so her mind could calm and settle, but they refused her. Unwanted tears stung at her eyes and she tried hard to blink them away, but before she could do or think much more she felt a warm hand upon her shoulder. Aedre started in surprise and quickly turned her head to see Sunniva standing behind her, a grave expression upon her face.

"It seems I was wrong to think it was mere rumours," Sunniva whispered, before looking down at Aedre and noticing the girl's distressed expression. Her own face softened. "Do not fret Aedre, it is a sad time, but we must all endure such things." She squeezed Aedre's shoulder in reassurance, but the tone of her voice was flat and sorrowful.

Aedre couldn't prevent a small tear escaping and sliding down her cheek. In response Sunniva wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. "Do not weep. Guene is in a better place." She smiled and glanced up at the sky.

Aedre followed her gaze and studied the grey clouds above them, her brow furrowed into a frown before she turned questioningly to Sunniva.

The older woman's expression was one of surprise. For whilst she had taught Aedre many things, they had all been about life and living, it had never occurred to her that Aedre was ignorant in the ways of dying and death.

Finally she smiled. "Inside us all is our soul, our spirit, what makes us who we are. Inside you there is what makes you Aedre, understand?"

Aedre cocked her head, listening with curiosity.

"When we die, our spirits don't die, they never die. They just go on to a better place, somewhere that is not of this land. Somewhere all the ancients of Rohan dwell and live in peace, a place where everyone is happy. It is still sad to leave our lives here and the ones we love, but we do not fade."

Aedre pursed her lips in thought. To her ears this sounded like a tale, a story, something that was mere fantasy, like the scrolls of legends that Éomer often read aloud to amuse her... how could such a place exist? No life could be only full of joy. She glanced back at the stables and her eyes lowered. She hoped that if there was such a place, Guene was now there, this thought could at least ease her own guilt a little.

/

Éomer headed towards the council chambers. It seemed the hall was a little busier with commotion this morning but he paid it little heed, his mind was preoccupied with more important things. He had again asked the council to hear his voice in the matter of marrying a commoner. It seemed all he did for many nights past was think of counter arguments, of ways he could convince them, but the stubborn old men always refused to be moved, they always had some kind of reason or vocal comeback to whatever he said.

Baal walked briskly beside him. He was a short and slightly lanky young man, but despite his age he had a great thirst for knowledge. He held many scrolls of parchment in his arms, trying his best to keep up with the king's long stride while balancing his workload.

"My Lord?" His voice was reedy but not unpleasant.

"Hmm?" Éomer's answer was gruff and distracted.

"I think our chances of beating the council at their own game are great today, I have researched many old records from Gondor and The White City itself. Although I cannot find any mention of a king marrying a commoner, the fact that the younger brother of an ancient king of Rohan once married a mere midwife is a good omen for us."

"So you've already said." Éomer's words were chiding but his tone was pleased and a small smile spread across his lips.

"As I've said before, my Lord," Baal began uncertainly, "it would help me if I knew who the lady in question was, the more information I have, the better I can build a good list of reasons why she would make a good companion for you and Rohan."

Éomer suddenly halted, spinning upon his heel to face the man following behind him, causing Baal to stop suddenly. A few of the scrolls escaped his grasp and fell onto the stone floor. Éomer gave a low noise of irritation before bending and aiding Baal in collecting the scrolls.

"We have already talked much upon this matter Baal; I do not wish to put her in any kind of danger, no matter how small that may be."

Baal gave a small nod. "Yes, my Lord, forgive me."

"When our feet are upon more solid footing, once the council will at least listen without quoting ancient laws, then we can discuss this again. But until then let us focus on the council and turning their minds to becoming reasonable."

"Yes my Lord," Baal said, now with all the scrolls once again gathered within his arms.

The door to the council chambers loomed before them and Éomer took in a deep breath, readying himself for what lay ahead. He reached out and unlatched the door, allowing it to swing gently back on its hinges. Within, several older men in rich robes of greens, golds and deep reds were already sat at a large wooden table, their expressions expectant.

As Éomer entered, the deep conversation they and all been embroiled in with each other came to an abrupt halt as Éomer walked further into the now silent room, the sound of his own footsteps echoing across the stone flagged floor. He took his place at the head of the table and Baal took a small stool just to the left of where he now sat. The young man began hurriedly sorting his papers. Éomer glanced around at the faces and eyes that were all firmly looking in his direction. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"My lords, you know why I have called you to the council chambers once again, it is to state my case in the hopes that we can all come to a decision we can agree upon, for the good of Edoras and Rohan."

The nobles shifted with discomfort at his words and an older man with white, thinning hair motioned that he too wished to speak. Éomer gave him leave to do so with a gesture of his hand.

"Éomer King, we know your will and we know it is strong. But, the laws and traditions that govern Rohan cannot permit a union between commoner and one of noble birth. If we change this tradition to bend to a want you wish to fulfil, our ways as the people of Rohan will be threatened." This was met by noises of agreement from the other nobles and Éomer's brow furrowed in annoyance. He had barely uttered a word upon the subject and already they were jumping upon his cause like mad dogs fighting over a carcass. They were beginning to lose patience with the circumstances just as much as he himself.

"We would will you to choose a lady of name, one whom will be fit to stand beside our king and bond us in friendship to another land."

Éomer rested his hand at his temple. "You talk again of the daughter of prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

"My lord, the princess Lothíriel is a good match. Perhaps if you visited her..."

Éomer banged his fist violently upon the table causing all at the table to jump. "I have no need to visit her. I respect your words and know them to be wise in the matter that the Princess would indeed make a good queen for Rohan, but she would not be my queen, nor my wife... I can have no other but the one I choose." He brought his hand to rest upon the armrest of the chair, gripping it lightly as he spoke. "If you do not let me choose, Rohan may have to be content with a lone king as ruler."

The nobles let out a collective gasp. "My Lord, surely you cannot mean these words? Without an heir the lands of Rohan would descend into chaos."

"You stretch your words and the truth too far Raynar, you know I could choose an heir if I so wished, I would not leave Rohan open to danger."

"Éomer King, to go so far for only a mere woman, a commoner... to endanger us all for the happiness of one, it-"

Éomer glared at him fiercely causing the old man to stop his speech mid word. Éomer shook his head. "I did not come here to exchange heated words and fight with any of you; it is not my wish or desire to cause any of you unwanted distress. But you must hear me; will you not hear your king with open hearts and minds?"

The nobles glanced at each other unsurely, before they gave a reluctant nod. "I am thankful," Éomer said, acknowledging their small attempt at being civil. "Scrolls have been found by the scribe Baal that may help you to see this would not destroy any of Rohan's traditions, nor endanger our way of life."

The nobles exchanged looks that easily spoke of the fact that they did not believe such a thing was possible.

"We will hear your words Éomer king and we will listen, but do not chance to hope it will turn us away from the honour of tradition. If you do not sway us, will you at least hear our council upon a good marriage?"

"My lords, I know all are weary of this subject, today I hope we can leave this room in good spirits." Éomer bit back the anger that slowly coiled within him; to lose his temper now would do nothing but harm the very fragile truce that had settled over the table. "If I cannot sway you even an inch from your decision, I will listen, but no more for the current time," he said, hating each word that left his lips. He had so little patience for these types of men, his memory clouded with dark thoughts of Grima Wormtongue, the wretched spy who had betrayed his own people, his own king, for the promise of power. Such men were easily shaken by just a promise and Éomer could not fully rid himself of this thought, nor could he bear to trust them, perhaps this was the reason they now quarrelled so.

Éomer turned to Baal who seemed to have prepared himself for the trial ahead and nodded, signalling that the young man could begin.

"My lords," Baal said, a little too highly. He stood from his seat, a roll of parchment clutched in his grasp. "I have searched for the proof your hearts and eyes desire and have found what I believe to be good cause for the king to choose his own queen." He unrolled the parchment and handed it to one of the nearby nobles who quickly began to read before passing it to the next man. "As you can see my lords, the brother of one of our own ancient kings married a mere commoner, none objected harshly and the wife bore him many healthy children."

"Yes, this is the truth," one of the men interrupted with a splutter, "but he was not the king."

Baal took a shallow breath and Éomer's grip upon the chair tightened, this was their last hope, it would bring them victory or downfall. "It is true my lord, but Éomer King is himself not the original heir, he too would have had the same position as this ancient of royal blood." He paused, letting the words hang in the air.

"That is not the point." The men began to murmur among themselves, dispelling the silence.

"Please hear me lords," Baal said, holding up his hand, respectfully calling for quiet. "Many things have not come to pass that were thought to be certain; the war of the One Ring has left our lands in tatters. The poor cry out for food, for shelter and for aid, and our king, a man who had no thought of taking upon such a role has born all this weight upon his shoulders. Has he not shown that his judgement is wise? That his will is strong? His sword just? Our lands are slowly beginning to recover, our people to smile once more. Rohan will once again be great and do we not owe our thanks to our king and his wisdom?"

The nobles exchanged nervous glances.

"Will you not trust his wisdom now; will you not hear his just words? He has brought light back to our lands, our people; can we not allow him a little light of his own to lighten the load of such dark times?"

The council members again exchanged glances but remained silent.

"Our traditions are important, this I cannot deny, but the happiness of the people of Rohan is above this, is not our own king a man of Rohan? I wish for you to hear my words, my lords, and heed whatever your own hearts and minds would bid you to do, for the good of all."

Baal had lost all the colour from his cheeks as he returned to his seat. He glanced up at Éomer seeking reassurance that he had done well and Éomer gave him a small smile.

Raynar slowly rose, his eyes upon the king. "The scribe Baal speaks words with meanings that are beyond his years, you picked the man to speak your cause well Éomer King." This was met with mutterings of agreement. "Perhaps we were too hasty in our harsh judgements, it is true that you have restored much of Rohan through these dark times, you have led your people well and our judgement should not be taken so lightly."

Éomer did not speak but he felt a stirring within him, a small flame of hope flickering into being.

"Our hearts still lie with tradition but our minds have heard your words well and we will discuss upon them without sentence. We will need time."

Éomer nodded, stroking his beard absently. "I will gladly grant you the time you seek."

Raynar gave a stiff bow before returning to his own seat.

"Needs must that I leave you now to your own thoughts, I pray that you will call upon me when your minds are set and we may talk once again," Éomer said.

The nobles gave a respectful single nod as Éomer got to his feet. He gave them a small incline of his head in response before leaving them to deliberate his future, Baal close at his heels. When they reached the safety of the deserted corridor he turned to the young scribe, a small grin gracing his features.

"It went better than I had hoped." His tone was merry but a soft furrow still lay upon his brow.

"Yes, my lord. It seems the words I spoke swayed them, if only a little."

Éomer slapped him good naturedly upon the back. "That was all I need - it is small, but it is hope."

Chapter Text

Aedre touched the wooden chair nearby her with a light brush of her fingertips, feeling the smoothness of its shape. It felt stable, real... words that did not currently seem to connect with everything that had happened within recent days. Her cosy little room somehow seemed smaller to her eyes, as if the very walls had closed in around her as she stood in silent thought. The days had passed and the hour had grown late, all in Edoras knew the news that a murder had taken place within the stables now, even the king would know, but he had not called her to his side and many lonely nights had passed. This thought left her feeling pulled in two different directions, was it not good that he had no wish to talk to her, to see her guilt laid plain and bare within her eyes? But yet her traitorous eyes wished for nothing but to hold his form within their gaze.

How she had managed to go about her normal daily routine she was not fully sure. In a way it had been easy to just act as if everything was the same, as if nothing had changed in the Golden Hall. The serving maids still had chores to be completed and light hearted gossip to exchange, the nobles meetings to attend and papers to read and the guards still stood with watchful eyes at their posts. Edoras, it seemed, had not been thrown into chaos due to the death of one serving woman. The subject was often mentioned, talked of heatedly by some, but most had accepted that, just as Sunniva had said, the Golden Hall could not stop for want of one. Of course this did not mean that the situation was not taken seriously, many had been questioned, taken away from chores and duties to be asked when they had last seen Guene, what she had been doing and whom she had been with. Aedre herself had not been called; none seemed to think she would be of much help in the matter. She heard gossip of people suspected or details of how the murder may have unfolded and the promise had been muttered that the matter would not rest until the person responsible had been caught.

She finally sank slowly down onto the bed, the wait had begun and it tortured her with images of what was to come, what could be. She had one last chance of salvation; she had to retrieve her apron, if it was found it would only be a simple process of elimination before the heavy hand of blame would be placed upon her. If only she had been spared a minute alone within the kitchens, but the last few nights she had felt wearied by the days, sleep had been all her mind wanted and she could never waken herself early enough to be there before Sunniva. She cursed herself inwardly; if she hadn't chosen this path would the world still seem light? She sniffed loudly, pushing back tears that threatened to well within her eyes at any moment and chided herself. There had been no other way, Guene was a threat, a threat that could not be allowed to continue... yet... a little voice deep within her spoke quietly of the race of men's world being different, there had been other ways and she had acted rashly. She pushed such thoughts violently away and focused her gaze upon the solid chair once more. Even men fought for what they wished, why had her actions been any different? She set her jaw as she clung to this revelation. Now, more than ever she had to rely on herself, but this was no mere meal or a scrap of warmth she was fighting for: this was all she wanted, this was everything, and if she lost faith in her own convictions now she may as well have never been brought out of the last dank cave she had despaired in.

She gave a certain nod, suddenly aware that she had been still for a long time. She glanced at the sickly yellow tallow candle that burned near her bed and saw that it had dwindled a good amount in size from when she had first lit it. Slowly Aedre rose and brushed her hands distractedly over her clothing, smoothing small rumples with her palms. She took in a deep breath of air and held it within her lungs for a short moment before allowing it to escape her lips, extinguishing the nearby flame. She reached out and turned the handle, opening the door to the dim corridor.

All was silent as she made her way with soft but determined steps across stone and soon she stood within the kitchens. It was dark and still, the muted atmosphere only disturbed by the sudden popping of the dying fire in its last attempts at fuelling itself on blackened wood. Aedre lit a small candle, almost nothing but a stub was left within its metal holder, but she needed little light by which to perform the task she had set herself.

She turned quickly, her eyes determined as she walked towards the set of shabby wooden drawers. Placing the candle upon them she stooped and pulled the compartment out, her hands eagerly set to fishing the apron from the folded blankets. It took her mind a moment to understand that she could not see it, nor feel its soft material pressed against the rough wool covers, and as the feeling washed over her she pulled the blankets out one by one allowing them to fall carelessly to the floor. Her mind began a panicked racing as it dawned on her that that which she sought was no longer there. When she finally reached the bottom of the drawer she began to desperately unfold the blankets, her eyes hoping to catch a glimmer of light material, a splash of red... anything... but there was nothing.

Aedre fell back upon her haunches clutching at the disturbed and crumpled blanket within her grasp, clinging to it as if it held the answer to her critical question. It was then she heard it, small but there, a distinct creak of wood. A familiar sound she knew only too well that came from the rocking chair sat within a darkened corner of the kitchens. Aedre was upon her feet within a moment, her body spun around to face the noise, the blanket abandoned.

She could hear her own harsh breathing in the silence as she strained with her eyes and ears, but the answer she wished for soon made itself known as a sorrowful sigh came from the blackness. She backed up a step as the creak of wood came again, signalling the person had risen from their seat, shuffled footsteps sounded across the floor and Sunniva stepped out into the gloom of the lone candle.

Aedre's eyes widened as her mind raced with excuses, reasons and explanations as to why she had been in the kitchens so late searching through drawers but Sunniva's expression stilled her from making any moves or attempts of conversation. The older woman's face looked worn and wrinkled, her eyes were glazed and tired and Aedre felt a small ripple of worry descend over her.

Sunniva's lips parted but no words came forth for what seemed a very long time. "I knew you would come." Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. "I prayed to the Valar that you would not, that it was not the truth." She paused for another long moment in the stillness. "But I knew you would come."

Aedre could see Sunniva's eyes glistening with tears and her brow furrowed in confused concern, her first instinct was to rush to the older woman and comfort her but then her own gaze was drawn to the object clutched within Sunniva's hands, an apron, blood stained, incriminating and hers. Aedre felt an unpleasant feeling shoot up her spine and the fine hairs on the back of her neck seemed to prickle with the sensation, spreading through her scalp like a wave washing across her. She made no move or attempts to talk, but instead remained staring at the apron.

"Tell me it is not so? This blood is not from hare or any meat; you do not butcher to cause these stains upon your clothes." She paused in hope, waiting for the young girl before her to make a move of explanation, but she stood as if frozen. "I saw you leave the hall that night... I never thought of it until I found this... never thought... it cannot be you, you could not have done this... I know you... but you hid it deep within the drawers as if it shamed you... as if you hid a sin from all... if it was blood from some minor thing you would not care, you would have washed it... but there is dirt and hay clinging to this apron, the smell of the stables... I do not want to think this is true... tell me this is not true?" Sunniva's ramblings softly filled the silence as she relayed the facts and her hopes that they could somehow be proven to be false.

Aedre continued to stare, not moving a single muscle in reply to the words spoken.

"Aedre!" Sunniva's low but demanding voice drew her out of the hold the material seemed to have held sway over her and she quickly flicked her gaze to the older woman's face. Now tears had slid down Sunniva's cheeks but her face was stern, angry and she walked towards Aedre with fast footsteps. "Is this not yours Aedre, is this not your own?" She shook the garment forcefully before Aedre's pale face.

Slowly Aedre nodded, not knowing what else she could do in this moment but knowing she could not lie, the truth was plain.

"What did you do?" Sunniva's tone was hissed and ominous. "What did you do?" Her voice rose as if the emotion that coiled tightly around her heart was bursting forth from her very lips and within that moment a harsh slap landed savagely against Aedre's cheek, sending her stumbling a few steps backwards with the force.

Aedre clutched at her quickly reddening flesh, the pain sending a strange feeling tingling through her veins, familiar and hated. She let out a small whimper and backed away, her gaze fearful and wide at the betrayal that had just played out before her. Tears of resentment pooled within her eyes as she continued to stare at the woman before her, her face had taken on a wild quality akin to a frightened animal that had been wounded and backed into a corner.

Sunniva stood her ground, her bottom lip trembling with a slight shiver of emotion and she quickly brought her hand to her mouth as if suddenly shocked by her own actions. She allowed a few more tears to slide down her plump cheeks before she once again spoke. "I did not mean..." she whispered through her hand. "Oh Aedre," she said, as if that was all she could manage to say in that moment.

She wiped at her cheeks with a clumsy hand and took in a deep breath as the young girl continued to stare at her, hunched and unmoving, save for the harsh breaths that seemed to make her whole body shake a little.

"What have you done?" Sunniva finally said. "Why did you do such a thing?"

Aedre remained still, her body was rigid but her mind raced with images she had tried so hard to bury, memories that made her flesh prickle with the remembrance of pain, of punishment and ill treatment. She moved her eyes a little so she could fully see Sunniva, a woman she had trusted, a woman she had never thought would strike her in anger, would never hurt her... another little part of her world had gained a crack within its veneer...

"How could you? What possessed you to hurt Guene? A woman you knew?" Sunniva paced a little as she spoke and Aedre straightened her posture, leaning the small of her back heavily against a nearby wooden table for support. "What can be done? I cannot tell... I do not know what to do... The Valar help me."

Aedre listened to Sunniva's voice, but hearing only noise not words, a monotonous droning that rose and fell within her ears. A dark look clouded her features as her eyes followed Sunniva's steps and her chest heaved heavily as if she had just run a great distance. Would the older woman lunge for her again? This time to give a full beating that would bruise and break her flesh? Aedre's hand half heartedly clutched at the table edge, glad of the solid contact and brushing against the tools left out for use the next day. Her hearing pricked at the metallic ring of metal upon metal and her head bowed, glancing over her shoulder, her eyes settled upon the large moulded broth spoon and sharp meat knife that brushed the side of her palm. She looked quickly back at Sunniva, her eyes narrowing.

"The Valar help me," Sunniva repeated. "Tell me what happened, Aedre?" She seemed to shake herself, her mind becoming aware that the young girl could not talk. "I know you cannot speak, yet you must find a way to tell me... to make me understand." She pushed a hand against her brow which was beaded with sweat. "I do not know if this can be undone, I do not know!" She paused, her steps coming to standstill as if a sudden thought had come to her. "Did Guene attack you, did she hurt you... did you fight back? Is that what happened?" Although the words sought understanding they held no note of comfort in them, no warmth, only panic and distress.

Aedre's grip curled around the wooden handle of the blade, pulling the object close to her back.

Suddenly Sunniva rushed forward, her hands gripping Aedre's shoulders and her fingers dug painfully into flesh with the sheer emotion behind the action. Aedre's eyes widened further, rolling a little as she tried to gain her mind back from a fear that grappled with her logic, a fear that willed her to curl up into a tight ball ready for onslaught.

"Aedre, my poor girl!" Sunniva's voice trembled, her face full of concern, anger and despair. "My poor damaged girl, how am I to protect you now?"

Aedre's muscles tensed, her grip tightening, she had to act before it was too late... she doubted she could do this, but she must save herself, she would not be beaten again...

Sunniva roughly pulled Aedre into an embrace and began to sob into the young girl's shoulder, her hands grasping at Aedre's back as if in a bid to conceal her from the world. Aedre's eyes dulled, surprise marring her expression, her lips parted softly in shock and her grip loosened. The knife fell with a small dull clang onto wood, audible only to Aedre over the sobs of the woman that clung to her. Aedre's hands shook as the full realisation of what had just occurred descended upon her and her hands quickly clutched at Sunniva as she herself began to cry.

Chapter Text

The two women sat at the worn table, cloaked in the silence of the kitchens. A few lit candles flickered nearby, giving the room a dim but warm glow. Aedre's head was bowed, her hands clasped upon the table-top before her as Sunniva pushed a cup of sweet berry juice towards her.

Sunniva gestured for Aedre to drink and she obeyed, taking a sip of the liquid.

She found that she couldn't meet Sunniva's eyes in this moment, her mind burned with what had almost been, that she had in truth come close to hurting Sunniva, just as she had hurt Guene, in a moment of instinct to protect what was her own, a fact the older woman seemed oblivious to. Her thoughts were confused, scattered and she felt unable to find any of the pieces that would make the situation bearable.

Sunniva let out a low sigh. The older woman had been silent for a very long time after their embrace, wiping at her tears with the hem of her own apron as if it were an annoying afterthought, but whenever Aedre caught sight of her face it was set in an expression of deep thought, her light blue eyes sharp with what her mind was currently dwelling upon.

Again she sighed. "We must destroy this." She put a hand gently upon the bloodied apron that lay between them on the table. Aedre's eyes flew to hers, her face questioning the words that had just been spoken. Slowly, and with what seemed like great effort, Sunniva rose from her seat and snatched up the material before walking towards the fire. She picked up a nearby metal poker and began determinedly rousing the fire back into small flames, feeding it small scraps of wood until it had grown, crackling, into a decent burning tool. She glanced back over her shoulder at Aedre and nodded certainly. "None shall know," she whispered, before allowing the cloth to fall into the hungry fire.

Aedre abruptly stood from her own seat, her fingers spasmed weakly at her sides as if they wished for her to run forward and pull the burning apron away from its fate, but she remained still. Sunniva prodded at the material, making sure that the fire consumed all there was, before she turned once more to face the young girl. "It is done, for ill or good."

Aedre felt her eyes brimming with tears once again and found she had no desire to hold them back, they spilt hot and wet onto her cheeks. Her eyes were wide with awe as she tried to understand what Sunniva had just done and why.

Sunniva gave a slight nod, understanding her expression and came back to her seat at the table.

"Aedre," she said, bringing the young girl back to a sitting position. "We have been together many a year, have we not?"

Aedre sniffed, wiping clumsily at her eyes and gave a slight nod.

"To me, you are like my own child; I have seen you grow with my teaching. I have scolded you for wrongs and praised you for that which you did right, we have laughed and cried together many times, stood fast beside each other when times were dark... I know you, Aedre."

Aedre continued to wipe at her cheeks and hiccupped through her tears.

"What happened with Guene..." She paused, her mouth turning down slightly as if she had eaten something sour. "What happened that night... I know in my heart that you would not harm anyone without reason, I know that you did not mean to hurt her, I know..." She quickly took Aedre's hands in her own, squeezing them reassuringly. "That it was a dreadful accident."

Aedre's lips parted with surprise but she found she had no will to correct Sunniva's thoughts and it struck her that they were partly true... she had not wanted to harm Guene.

"I know not what happened, but I know you are good Aedre, many love you and I also know envy is a callous being that can drive people to actions of hatred."

Aedre gave a nod, but it was more in agreement to the words Sunniva spoke than there content.

Sunniva gave a low sigh. "I have known for some time that Guene suspected you saw the king, I saw the way she looked at you with poison in her eyes, but never did I think you were in danger, perhaps that was foolish of me. Guene was never one to shy away from violence if the mood or man took her, and the king had been locked within her longings for many years." She shook her head sadly. "I should have seen it clearly... not left it lying... I should have warned her, given her stern words or perhaps had her moved to another position outside the Golden Hall... but I allowed it to continue unheeded, too wrapped up in my own fretting for the king's current situation, and it has led to this."

Aedre tried to keep up with the words that were spoken but found her skills lacking and instead offered a comforting smile. Sunniva smiled in return but it held a tinge of sorrow to it.

"Why did you not come to me? Was she threatening you?"

Aedre gave a certain nod, as this had indeed been the truth.

"It makes sense now," Sunniva breathed. "She cornered you in the stables, attacked you?"

Aedre again nodded, knowing that this was not all strictly true, but perhaps Sunniva did understand the reasons, the motives of why this had to be, and Aedre felt a weight lift from her, to share this seemed to make the situation a little lighter.

"You should have come to me Aedre." Sunniva's tone was a little sterner. "Before this happened, perhaps we could have made things right..."

Aedre's eyes again filled with tears and Sunniva patted her hand comfortingly.

"A woman would not be dead and you would not be in danger, do you understand? You need not have borne all this on your own... but this does not distract from the truth, Guene is dead and nothing can be changed on the matter." She breathed in deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes. "You fought back and it will be hard to explain any of this without revealing you as the king's chosen one to all the eyes of Edoras... if that happened..." She again sighed. "All would be lost of Éomer's cause, the people may turn against him... folk can have strange ideas when such things happen... and they may not see your innocence, or ignore it. If you were no more than a serving woman with no connections to the king, then all would be well, we would have time to explain and make them understand you did no more than fight back." She bit her lip in thought. "We have only one choice now as things stand, we must tell no one Aedre, do you understand?" She gave the girl a meaningful look. "None must know of this, not even the king, it was a regretful accident that cannot be undone and it will not bring down all we have worked for."

Aedre allowed tears to flow again and whimpered softly to herself, the atmosphere around them lying heavily upon her heart.

"Cease your tears now," Sunniva said softly, standing from her seat to come to her and wrap a protective arm about Aedre's shoulders. "Come now, tears shall not undo what has been done, I see you lament it my girl and the Valar will see that too, you have nothing to fear." She stroked Aedre's hair with a gentle hand. "But, we must be strong now, we must put this behind us and act as if it never happened, as if it were no more than a bad dream, understand?"

Aedre looked up into the kindly face of the woman she trusted and nodded.

/

Spring weaved its fresh scent across the lands of Rohan. Winter's harsh grasp began to fade and the colours of life began to seep into the landscape.

Aedre stood by the great stone steps that led to the Golden Hall, deeply breathing in the fresh aromas and clearing her head of a day spent hard at work. It seemed more and more she felt the will to escape the confines of the hall, they were stuffy, close and dark. Out here the sun seemed to warm everything, and not for the first time Aedre felt the need to flee this place, to walk that land beyond and leave all cares behind, to men and their ways. It was true her burdens had been lessened, Sunniva too carried a fair share, and yet Aedre's heart did not feel glad. She knew it was not guilt for bringing Guene's life to an untimely end, it was not about Guene at all, it was about herself, of the people she cared for and the life she wished to lead. This life was not what she had wanted... but what had she wanted? She lingered upon the strange question for a moment and finally her subconscious brought up one word, stillness. Yes, that seemed fitting, she had wanted stillness, a life that had demanded little of her, quiet, peaceful with small joys scattered here and there. The path she currently walked upon had given her more; it had brought her love, friendship, heartbreak and death. She found she longed for the days when each sunrise brought no more than the promise of chores and good food.

She sighed, allowing her eyes to graze across the many homes laid out before her. Did the people who dwelled within have similar lives? Did they too find their own burdens a struggle? Then her gaze once again went to the sprawling plains beyond, the wind whipping at the long grasses, beckoning a world of carelessness. Finally she dragged herself, tired and unwilling, back up the stairs, back to the Golden Hall and whatever awaited her within.

/

Éomer sat within his chambers, his hand stroking his beard as his thoughts wandered. His mood was not fair, this he knew only too well to be true, it had not been fair for the best part of winter and even the spring's warm glow could do nothing to alleviate it. Baal sat nearby, hurriedly working on a parchment he had brought with him to the king's rooms, the constant scratching of his feathered quill pen seemed to burrow into Éomer's temples, causing his brow to furrow and his mood to darken, but he remained quiet, not allowing his own temper to take over his actions just yet. Today the council had finally summoned him, a call that he had been waiting upon for many days. The old men had taken their time, as he had suspected they would, but the knowledge did not aid his patience. They had left him little time to prepare, which he knew to be their plan, they wished to catch him off guard and make sure that he would be ambushed by the terms or arguments they would bombard him with.

"Their answer will not be to our liking," Éomer growled, making the young boy start with surprise at the sound.

It took Baal a moment to gather his thoughts back from the work he had been concentrating on.

"It is likely not to be, that is true Éomer King, but we shall not be beaten so easily."

Éomer let out a small gruff laugh. "You have more stomach for listening to them than I. I feel like I have waited an age for them to decide and yet when they do call upon me I find no matter how much I have prepared, nor how much I have thought over words I would say, I feel like a babe left out in the snow of winter, naked and with no aid." Éomer's lip curled in disgust at the thought.

Baal gave an understanding nod. "I know not what to say to ease your mind, but I will do all I can, of that I promise you." The young man's face was stern and full of meaning.

Éomer found himself smiling. "I believe you will." He sighed, his eyes lingering over Baal's face a moment. "You are akin to your father in many ways."

"So my mother is still want to tell me," Baal said, his eyes dulling. "I was young then, at the time of the War of the One Ring, just beginning my studies, but I remember it all... remember him not coming back to us after the great battle at Helm's Deep." He paused, his eyes glazing over with memory. "We all huddled in those dank caves, young children and women, waiting, hearing the cries of death far above us, fearing the looming shapes and shadows of the enemy at any moment, dark tidings that would tell us all was lost." He glanced at his king, his eyes once again focused. "But many men did not return that day, mine was not the only loss." He gave a wry smile. "It is hard to even think that the war was real at all, that it wasn't a bad dream."

Éomer rose from his seat and went to Baal, patting him warmly upon the shoulder. "Your father fought bravely, never did a man of Rohan fight for more than your father, Baal. He would be proud to see your studies lead you to your position, great men seek your wisdom and your knowledge from all across Rohan."

Baal's look soured a little. "My father would have liked me to have become a warrior, my standing would have been better; the looks some still give me are full of chiding for choosing words over the sword."

Éomer nodded in understanding, he himself could not fully loose himself from the bonds of tradition. A warrior's worth was all in Rohan, a real man of Rohan carried a sword by his side and death in his heart. But Baal had been a sickly child, too weak to stand the weight of a weapon within his grasp for long, books had been his salvation, but only time would tell if his worth would be acknowledged by the society they lived in.

"Yet they still come to you, I still come to you. Your choice of words was indeed wise and your only path." Again Éomer offered him a comforting pat.

"That is true," Baal said, turning his eyes back to scanning his work.

"We have yet an hour before we meet with the council," Éomer said, dispelling the conversation. "We should eat and make ready, I fear we may need our strength for the battle of words ahead."

Chapter Text

Éomer strode down the corridor, Baal by his side. Once again the young scholar held a large pile of rolled parchment in his arms. Éomer had deliberately taken longer with his meal than needed, it was childish and insolent and he knew it to be true, but he found he received a warm pleasure from making the council wait upon him, in his mind it showed them that he was indeed king and they would have to abide his actions. Perhaps it was his own small way of paying them in kind for their sudden meeting, he would go, but by his own time and terms.

Things would not be aided by the recent murder that had taken place in the stables. All knew that none had access to the stables save for those dwelling in the Golden Hall. His people had become lax, the War of the One Ring had weighed upon Rohan's shoulders for so long that as soon as a glimmer of normality returned life to how it once had been, feasts and merriment had taken a hold with passion, and responsibilities given only a glance. This Éomer had already addressed over the past days, his time taken up by the repercussions, questions and fear that many of his people felt. He knew he had none to blame but himself, he had been lenient, enjoying the same freedom of peaceful times that so many felt. Now things had to change, one murder had awoken him to this fact and all would be set right, the person who committed the crime sentenced to pay for what they had done. Whether the victim had been a noble or a lowly stable boy, all would be treated with the same judgement beneath his rule. His thoughts drifted for a short moment to Guene, he had seen her that night, rebuked her advances. Many years past things had been different, when he was young and his heart still sore from the loss of Mildryth, a woman he had loved in the folly of youth. Guene had been his distraction, only a few years younger than he, with wild dreams of love and lust, her carefree ways had lessened the blow of loss. But now Guene was dead, lying beneath the ground: still, lifeless, never to laugh that bell-like laugh again, just like Mildryth. He felt a sudden inward sting of emotion; he forced himself never to dwell on that part of his life, never to dwell on that face...

"My Lord?" Baal's voice shook him out of his thoughts and he was glad of it.

"Hm?"

"We are stood at the door" Baal said, a little unsurely.

Éomer became aware that they had been stood outside of the council chambers in silence for many minutes. He cleared his throat, hiding his embarrassment.

"Yes, I was lost in thought."

"I see," Baal said, with a smile he hoped was reassuring. "Shall we enter?"

Éomer nodded. "We can do no more than we have done; let us face whatever the old men deem to throw our way." He grinned and the young man smiled back.

Within, the council was already gathered, as Éomer had expected they looked irritated by the king's lateness but stood in respect as he and Baal entered and took their seats at the table. The council members followed suit, waiting patiently for their king to speak.

"My Lords," Éomer began, giving them a respectful incline of his head as he addressed them. "I have come as you asked, to hear your decision; I pray it is one we can both be content with."

Raynar was the first to speak, he had, it seemed, appointed himself head speaker in this matter for some time. "Yes Éomer King, I hope it will please you as well as us."

Éomer nodded. "Then I shall hear you with an open heart and mind."

"We are grateful," Raynar said formally, with a small bow. "We have discussed upon the matter many a day and night, as we promised; we have given your words and desires much thought and our final decision is that the king should be allowed to have a say in whom he will marry."

Éomer felt his heartbeat quicken slightly but remained still in body and expression.

"But, we also feel that the people of Rohan should also have a say, it is also our land and future which depend upon the royal line."

Éomer couldn't help a sneer, he knew when they spoke of the people of Rohan having a say they meant themselves. They would have it that what they willed was the wish of the people, but Éomer reined his emotions back, fighting with the council today over such trivial words may endanger his entire cause.

"Our minds are not yet fully decided, as we know your judgement to be wise and do not doubt the woman you have chosen has many admirable qualities that would bring us strong heirs and happiness, and if it is your most ardent wish that she and no other remains at your side, then we will again discuss and try to find a path which would mean your wishes are fulfilled."

Éomer scowled, they were saying all the right words but he felt no real truth behind them, they had a plan, a plan he would not like. They would pretend to placate him while they weaved a web around him, if they could not make him adhere to their wishes with words then they would use other means.

"I am glad to hear that," Éomer said with a slight sourness, "but it seems as if you would say more." He leant back against his chair, for all eyes relaxed and unconcerned with what was being discussed.

"Yes, my Lord," Raynar said, glancing at the other council members who nodded in agreement and perhaps encouragement. "We would will you to give us two seasons."

"Two seasons?" Éomer interrupted, a frown fleetingly gracing his brow. "For what end?"

"We wish for the Lady Eowyn and Lord Faramir to come to Edoras."

Éomer's understanding came in a wave and he had to suppress a laugh. These old men thought his own sister could be an ally to their wants, that she could talk and coerce him into submission. How quickly these men's memories faded, had they forgotten Eowyn's own hatred of men like them, of Wormtongue and his betrayal? No, Eowyn would not be so easily led.

"Their visit to Rohan together with their son is long overdue, but of course could not be helped; Lord Faramir has had much to attend to in his own lands."

Éomer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I agree, their presence in Edoras would lift the people's spirits and my own."

Raynar smiled, showing his missing teeth, which was not uncommon in a man of so many years. "I am glad the idea pleases you, after the recent disruption I think it will do much good."

Éomer nodded, knowing he spoke of Guene's murder.

"If this is your decision and you have no more to discuss in the present moment I will leave you to your duties." Éomer knew he could hope for no more today but it had not been wholly bad, he placed his palms on the arms of his chair, ready to rise, but Raynar raised a hand in a call for stillness and Éomer relaxed once again. His eyes watched the old man; uncertain and suspicious of what would be said next.

"We also think it would be a great chance for the Princess Lothiriel to tour the lands of Rohan, she is currently visiting Lady Eowyn and the timing could not be better."

Éomer's eyebrow rose in surprise. Once again he was forced to quell the anger that so readily wished to take hold of him. So this was their real game, not only to bring his kin back to Edoras, but the very woman they wished for him to marry.

"Your thoughts are clear," Éomer finally said stingingly, gritting his teeth.

"I think you mistake me, Éomer King, the princess has long desired to visit the lands of her cousin's wife; the lady Eowyn must talk in glowing praise of Rohan and Edoras for the princess to have such a desire." Raynar smiled again, but this time he didn't look like an old man with black gaps where teeth once were, now he looked cunning, manipulative and he knew full well he had cornered Éomer into a bargain he could not retreat from. He saw the king hesitate in his response and a sly smile hinted on his lips. "Surely Éomer King, if your will is steadfast her appearance amongst us will do no harm, but will do good in bringing the lands of Gondor and Rohan closer together."

Éomer's face tensed in surprise, unbelieving for a moment what his ears had heard. His frown deepened, his expression set in anger that he could no longer keep at bay and he stood from his seat violently, knocking the chair he had been seated upon heavily to the floor. It seemed all men in the room started at the noise and turned their shocked eyes from Raynar to the king, uncertain what to say or do in this suddenly dangerous climate.

"You over speak and over step your bounds Raynar!" Éomer roared. "You think I am of such a petty mind that any comely wench that passes my way will take my eye! You think too ill of me to call me king, do you not?"

Raynar had cowed a little from the king's reaction, knowing he had indeed spoken too much, and ill words at that.

"No, my Lord, I think no such thing," he said, his tone high pitched and pleading. "I only meant..."

"I have done no more in my chambers and no less than any other man of Rohan that graced this throne; I see no wrong in it. But I am not a man of feeble thinking, nor do I make my choices on a light whim! When I have chosen my path, whatever that be, by Brom I will fight for it as I fought in battle for my own people. Who shall be my wife, the queen of Rohan, the mother of my heirs is no light undertaking. Do not think me a fool Raynar? To do so is a dangerous misreckoning." Éomer continued to scowl darkly at the older man.

"Éomer King." Another voice broke into the sudden fetid silence. Éomer's gaze snapped in the direction the sound had come from, fully ready to vent his venom further if needed. The man who spoke was Elric, a younger member of the council, not yet past his forty fifth winter. "I speak for all here when I beg your forgiveness, Raynar spoke unwisely and he does not speak our thoughts. We know you are a great man, a true warrior, and no decision you make would be careless." He glanced at Raynar and his eyes burned with spite that he had brought the meeting down to such a level with lowly words. "I think what preys upon Raynar's mind to make him speak so unwisely is that we know so little of your chosen lady, it is hard for old men with many worries to not think the worst in all things."

Raynar gave a low bow. "Yes, forgive my tongue Éomer King, I was wrong, I know not what came over me to speak so. I beg your forgiveness for an old man's foolishness."

Éomer stood with his hands heavily laid palm down upon the table, he felt as if the rage within had made his whole body gain a great weight that pressed unrelentingly upon his shoulders. But Elric's words and Raynar's apology seemed to do a little to quell him from lashing out again. He also felt the steady calm gaze of Baal; his eyes spoke of the way not being barred, not yet, if Éomer could gain back his temper, no matter how right his feelings were about all that had been said.

Éomer said no more but turned and righted his chair before sitting upon it. His gaze scanned the many faces of the council members, all seemed shocked and disturbed by the events and the uncomfortable silence was near choking. Éomer knew he must push on, he had no choice, but the only words that came to his mind to speak were coarse and angry.

"My Lords."

Éomer felt his breath escape in a deep but unseen sigh of relief, Baal had been his saviour.

"Lord Raynar, perhaps your words meant no ill will, but the meaning was lost in the rash way you spoke them," Baal said, his tone confident.

Raynar bowed his head as if shamed.

"It seems the current atmosphere lies heavy upon your heart Lord Raynar, perhaps choosing another speaker may give you less cause to worry?"

"I will speak on behalf of our wishes." Elric had stood from his seat.

Éomer gave a stiff nod, acknowledging that he was content with that.

Baal cleared his throat. "You say you wish for the Princess Lothiriel to visit Edoras?"

Elric gave a certain nod. "The lady has made her wishes clear; her desire is to see these lands with the Lady Eowyn, although the timing may seem suspect, I can assure our king that it was not our intention to bring her here."

"I see," Baal said. "How do you come about such information as to the lady's wants my lord Elric?"

"I have many contacts in the realms of Gondor."

"I see," Baal repeated, and silence once again fell over the table. "I hesitate, my lord Elric, because all here know that your choice for a queen of Rohan would be the Princess Lothiriel, it does seem strange that she would so ardently want to come here with no other wants than to see Rohan, it is a tiring journey for a young maiden to make."

It was Elric's turn to hesitate. "Her father has expressed a wish for Éomer King and his daughter to meet, his heart desires an alliance, it is true, of this fact I cannot not deny. But such wishes were made many years ago, no such mention of a union has been made in relation to this visit from the princess."

"Then the lady will be most welcomed into Rohan and Edoras," Éomer put in gruffly. "She will find warmth and friendship here, but no more."