Théo and Éomer: My Life and My Honor
Oct. 28th, 2005 11:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rohansonÉomer: The clash of swords echoes in this high ceilinged room. We grin at each other, tossing our heads to fling sweaty hair out of our eyes. This is another gift that we have found in Karl's world . . . training together. It has been long since either you or I have been able to indulge in sword practice for the sheer enjoyment of it. And certainly not together, our different commands keeping us far apart for months at a time.
But I have seen you recently at Edoras, and the memory of that meeting has me unsettled. I was afraid to look at you too long or too fondly, for fear that hostile eyes would mark my regard for you. However, that constraint may have given rise to other problems, which worry me. Yet another gift is the opportunity to talk to you without fear, though I cannot tell you precisely what has occurred, I can reassure myself on certain things.
The angle of the sun coming through the long windows on the west wall has lengthened by the time we stop, panting and grinning at each other. By mutual impulse, we begin putting the weapons away, cleaning and drying them as we work.
"Théo . . . " I cannot hold my questions back any longer. "How well do you know Boromir of Gondor?"
Théo: This has been a most enjoyable way to spend the afternoon, sparring with you, noting how you have honed your skills over the years that divide us. And it has taken my mind off the loss of a comrade, a friend , given me respite from grief for a while. As I rub a cloth down my sword, the dual metals giving the impression of smoke curling around the blade, your question surprises me.
“Boromir? He is a good friend, although it has been a while since our paths crossed, and I will admit that my memories of our last meeting are hazy. I know it involved a tavern on one of the lower circles of Minas Tirith, enough ale to swim in, a handful of willing wenches, and waking up with a headache the following morning that lasted for two days.”
I snort with laughter at the memory, and you grin at me, but there is more weight behind your question than whether he is a good drinking partner or not, and I am curious as to what has prompted it.
“He is also an honourable and trustworthy man, one I would have no hesitation to have at my back in a fight. Why do you ask?”
Éomer: I run my thumb absently along the edge of the blade I hold, testing the sharpness, and gathering my thoughts, wondering how much to tell you of the absurdity of Boromir's quest.
Perhaps you can tell me how to judge his words. "He appeared at Edoras a few days ago, on a lame horse. I had never met him before, as you know. But his errand was strange enough that they summoned both of us to the capital." I glower at the memory of fawning and snivelling. "They hardly dared not," I mutter.
The sword in my hand feels natural and I know that I am not wise enough to think without a weapon. And I do not want to fail your future self, the older version of you who has gambled so much to keep our people safe.
"He is riding north on an urgent errand at his father's behest. He seeks some Elven fastness in the far North, based on nothing but some prophetic dream that he and Faramir have shared. A weapon fearsome enough to win the war he hopes to find." I smile wryly. "It was impossible to keep his quest altogether secret and now . . . I do not
know how much to trust this news he brings."
Théo: “Faramir was always the one blessed, or perhaps cursed, with strange dreams. If he and Boromir shared the same dream, and Boromir acted on it leaving his beloved Gondor behind, I would trust what he has to say.” I am more than curious as to what this weapon could be, but that is not what concerns me.
They summoned us to Edoras? Why would you not say that my father had summoned us? And your words, the tone of your voice ... My brow furrows, matching your frown and I have to bite back so many questions as to what would affect you so. My fingers trace the detail on the sword’s hilt, the knotwork that twists and turns, weaving in and out and back over itself.
I know there are things you cannot tell me, and I trust your judgement on this. Completely. That is the reason I do not ask questions of the future, because I know that foreknowledge could be a dangerous thing. If I know what happens, I may seek to change things, and the outcome may be worse than it already is, so I do not press you for any more than you tell me.
Your hair is damp against my fingers as I push it back from your face. “How did Boromir seem?”
Éomer: Again, I wish I had met the man before, to have some measure by which to judge his current mood. "He seemed a man who had been too long patrolling the outlands, with no relief and no companionship."
I knew Faramir's proclivities from meeting him in this world, but we had never talked about his brother. And I had been too unsettled by the undercurrents rippling through Edoras to offer any warrior's comfort to Boromir. I had needed my own comfort, but you were denied to me by our own common sense, knowing that any tryst between us would cause trouble.
I lean into your touch, trying to erase the memory of the discontented murmurings and vile rumours that had reached my ears, thanks to Éothain's generosity with his purchase of ale. The rot has not affected my own Riders, but the tone of the tales has begun to alarm me.
"I merely wondered if he was a man given to flights of fancy and wild pursuits. We are bound to his country and people by our ancient oaths. I would know what manner of task we will have if Gondor should summon our aid." And given the situation in Meduseld, if we can afford to keep our oaths.
Théo: “No, I have always found him to be of steady character.” So it has not come to that yet, we have not been summoned to Gondor’s aid. “As for our oaths … they do bind us, but we cannot fulfil them if it will be at the expense of our own people.” I want to add that my father will make the decision, if it comes to that, but something stops me. The possibility that it would not be my father’s decision to make is a thought I do not care to dwell on. My fingers move lower, onto your neck, stroking, soothing, wanting to take away the concern that fills your eyes.
“Whatever happens, we will face it together.” I can think of nothing in our world or any other that would fracture my trust in you, no matter what the future holds.
Éomer: You words lighten my heart, but they make me realise what it is that I need from you this day. Not a cousin nor a lover, but my commander, the Prince of Rohan is the man I need.
"When the time comes, remember this day," I whisper.
I step back, away from your touch, looking at the sword in my hands. It is not Gúthwinë, but it will have to do. I sink to my knees, the pommel in my right hand, the flat of the blade laid across my left forearm in the traditional way of our people. I meet your eyes and raise the sword to you.
"I pledge my oath to you and I offer you my sword, and my life, and my honour."
My gaze does not falter, even when your eyes widen in shock, while I wait for your answer. This oath is one that I should properly give only to the King, but I have no other way to let you know that the wicked things that are being whispered about me are not true. You have my loyalty, not as cousin and lover, but as my future king.
Théo: I frown as you move away from me, not understanding your quiet request to remember until you sink to your knees and shock me with your oath.
You swear this to me now? An oath reserved for Kings? A knot of fear for my father twists in my chest but now is not the time for questions. This is important to you, and you would not do this without good reason so even as my mind races, my body reacts to the words and I stand tall, looking down into your solemn eyes as I take the sword. You bow your head and I place my hand on your hair.
“I accept your sword, your life, your honour, Éomer son of Éomund, and the pledge you make that binds you to me. Rise.” Taking a pace back, I hold the sword out with both hands and offer it back to you. As your hand closes around the hilt, the oath is sealed, but there is more I must say before I shrug off the mantle of Marshal, and I hold your gaze as I speak.
“I will always remember this day. When next you see me in Rohan, look into my eyes and you will see the truth of it. Your loyalty is something I will never doubt, no matter what happens.”
Éomer: I take the sword back and nod at your words, relief coursing through me and making my throat thick. I did not realise until this moment how much the weight of the accusations has wearied my soul. To know that I have your unswerving faith in me heals the wounds caused by Gríma and those who ape his twisted words.
"He is not dead." My voice is low, knowing that my actions must have brought you fear that such had come to pass. Though, I do not tell you that I think it will be no long time before I make this same oath to you in front of all of Edoras.
But I owe you something, if nothing else in thanks for your instant recognition of what I needed from you. I take a deep breath to steady my voice.
"It is whispered that I seek to supplant you, to . . . usurp your rightful place. The Riders under our commands, those of the East Mark and the West Mark do not believe such hateful tales. But in Edoras . . . " I trail off, unwilling to burden you with the full story of the ills that have stricken our capital.
Théo: He is not dead. I let out a ragged breath, closing my eyes for a moment and nodding my thanks for that small piece of very necessary information. The oath you swore … I thought it could only mean one thing but relief turns to anger as you tell me why you were compelled to swear this to me now.
“Who would dare spread these vile rumours? Why would anyone seek to drive a wedge between us?”
My eyes flash with hatred and a white hot rage wraps itself around my heart as realisation dawns. I thought my father would tire of his flattery, his grovelling manner, but the way Grima looked at me last time I was in Edoras when my father chose to follow his advice over mine on a trivial matter … there was a note of triumph in his eyes, and I shrugged it off as nothing. The petty delusions of a small minded man who has never hidden his hatred of me when we are alone. What if his influence over my father has grown so strong that he can make him believe these lies that I have no doubt he started? The blood drains from my face. You would be branded a traitor.
“Wormtongue.” I spit out his name. “I will have his head for this!!”
Éomer: You are quivering with rage and I wish to touch you, but I do not know if that is the right thing for you at this moment. And your words touch off questions in my mind . . . How can you kill the worm now, when he is alive in my time? So, you must not have done it, but . . . you didn't know it was necessary until now, but . . . the possibilities are making my head spin. I do not have any words that I can use for this situation.
"But he is there in my time," I protest, and then drop that line of thought. I have no objections to you killing Wormtongue, but I do not have the words to express my confusion about the different times.
Clearly, you need the whole story. "We are strong and united, you and I, and our Riders. You persuaded the Riders to accept me as Third Marshal, though I am the youngest ever made. When commands come from Edoras that would weaken us, we ignore them. The Riders are loyal to you and they know that following you rather than those who claim to speak for your father is the only way they can ensure the safety of all our people." And send Saruman and those who would betray us to the hells they deserve.
Théo: My breathing steadies as you talk. To know that we fight this together, and from a position of strength helps me think more clearly. My rage simmers as I walk over to the window, folding my arms and gazing out into the dying sunlight. But it is not the yard I see, rather the view from the Golden Hall down over Edoras. The place I felt so safe growing up in has become a nest of vipers, ready to strike at those I care for, those I love.
“We fight those from outside who would harm our people, fight and die.” Brand’s face flashes in front of me. We were friends our whole lives until he took a spear in the gut in the last skirmish and died in my arms. “We should not have to fight this rot from within also.”
I hear you walk up behind me, your fingers slipping tentatively onto my shoulder, and I cover them with mine, glad of the contact.
“Wormtongue is still alive in your time, so I have not killed him. Yet. But what if killing him removes one problem only to be replaced by another, something worse?” My sigh of frustration is cut short by a stab of fear, and I spin round to face you.
“Wyn? Is she still in Edoras? Is she safe??”
Éomer: I do not think it would be productive to tell you of the slime that seeks to drag her into its clutches. I know we both could not bear to do what we must if she was not there to tend your father. Sometimes the weight of the choices we face would seem to break our backs. No man should have to decide between so much grief.
"She is well. No one will touch her, that much we ensured when we trained her with me. She remains beside the King and none question her care of him. She is safe."
But there is no one else that we can spare to guard Edoras for us. We had agreed it would be better for us to fight in the outer edges of our kingdom, defending it from raiders. "Wormtongue's greatest fear is giving the Riders a reason to request that you and I unite and challenge him openly. He will not act against her for that."
Théo: I nod again, glad beyond measure to know she is safe, even though it is more through circumstance than by design. My anger towards the worm is tempered by the look in your eyes. Concern for your sister, my father, our people … My fingers graze your cheek, my gaze locked on yours. You kept this from me, and perhaps your reasons were the same as mine were when I did not ask what the future held for fear of changing it, but I think there was more to it than that.
“You bore all this alone, these past months we have been meeting here, shielded me, kept me safe from this knowledge, but the need for silence is past. This place is our sanctuary, a respite for us both from the ills we face, and now it is a place where you can share what ails your heart when you need to as well as sharing the comfort we find in one another.”
I brush your hair back from your face, fingers tangling in the long strands. “There is no-one I would rather have with me, Mer, even if we cannot always stand side by side, no-one.”
Éomer: Your touch on me brings me more ease than I think you ever will know, for once again, I lack the words to express what you mean to me. "Love" does not seem to be a large enough concept to cover all of my feelings.
And all at once, I understand that my total surrender to you has been something else that I have needed from you. My submission to you has partly been because of my love for you and my loyalty to you, and my complete trust in you. But a small part of it has been relief to lay aside the constant wearing mantle of holding the fate of our people in my hands, to turn myself and my fate over to you. And whether you have known my need or not, does not matter. You have taken my burdens away for a short while with your touch.
"I wish that I could grant your future self the same peace that you give me now." That other Théo has haunted eyes, full of pain from seeing too many friends die and watching his father slowly slide into sickness and madness. Perhaps all I can give him is the memory of how it is between us now, a dream of love to ease his nights.
Théo: Both hands dig into your hair as I move closer. “My future self will carry the memories of our time here together. They will help him when he wishes he could be close to you, when he misses your touch, your company, just as they do now.” My lips brush over yours.
“He will remember the scent of you … the taste of you … “ I take a deep breath and you fill my senses as my tongue flicks out against your mouth.
“And when you must stay apart for fear of revealing too much, one glance across the hall will remind him of how you feel against him. He will remember warm skin and hard muscle and he will remember all that has passed between us today and take strength from those memories, take strength from you.” My voice becomes hoarse as my need for you intensifies. “You bring him peace, Mer, because you bring me peace, and I will not forget.” Your lips open under mine, the kiss deepening as my hands tighten in your hair and your arms slip round me, crushing us together.
Éomer: The press of your body against mine feels so right, so natural, that I wonder what I ever did before you and I found each other. My desire spikes sharply as we pull closer together, but under all of the urgency and lust, is that river of peace that I find in your arms and no other place.
The floor of this room is cushioned in one area and I pull you to it, unable to wait long enough to get upstairs to the bed. We strip quickly, I need to feel your skin against mine.
"Please . . . need you."
Then you are there with me, and we are rocking and sliding together, the pleasure ripping through me in an explosion of heat and light.
Théo: You arch against me with a cry and send me falling over the edge with a shuddering moan, to land safe in your arms as our limbs twine together. Sated, we lie quietly for a while, no need for words until thoughts and concerns over what we talked about earlier slip back.
Usually it is easy to leave behind cares and worries when I come here, but I learned too much today to push it so easily away. Propping myself up on an elbow, I trail my fingers down your arm, and I come to a decision.
“I will ride for Edoras as soon as I return. I was not due to leave the Deep for six more weeks, but I must know how things go there, and sooner rather than later.”
Éomer: I had wanted to forget the fears that weighed me down earlier, but I know that is a luxury that you and I will never have because of who we are. But I stay close to you, wanting to be near for a little while longer before that other world intrudes again.
I search my mind, trying to remember what happened those years ago, when Wormtongue first arrived, before we recognised what kind of threat he posed for our people and the King.
"He does not know that we act against him. We have been very careful, once you understood what game he was playing. He attributes his difficulties with command to the undisciplined nature of our people. Be careful."
Théo: I nod slowly and run my lips over your shoulder as I think. An hour ago, I was ready to ride non-stop to Edoras, walk straight into the Golden Hall and take his head right there and then without a word for what he dares to do. But you are right, care must be taken here.
With a growl of frustration, I bury my head in your chest. If it is too late to stop him ensnaring my father, his suspicions must not be aroused, and my unexpected and unnecessary appearance my well do that but there has to be a way. It will drive me insane to have to wait for weeks before I can go back. Behind closed eyes, Brand’s face swims into my vision. He’s laughing, his dark hair rippling as he turns away from me and takes off over the plains …
My eyes snap open and my head snaps up as something hits me. “Mer, think back. Can you remember how the news of Brand’s death arrived in Edoras?” My mind works, trying to remember if you would have been in the city or in Aldburg. At the same time, I think of the note penned after days of deliberation that lies on my desk back in the Deep, asking that Brand’s family be notified of his death. It was to be sent in the despatches tomorrow, even though I would have preferred to tell them myself. I did not want them to have to wait weeks more for the news. “If it arrived by despatch, I will bide my time, not return until I was due to.”
Éomer: I try to think. I had known that Brand was your closest friend and I had envied his easy way with you. I remember wanting to comfort you when he was killed but I had been afraid that you would not have accepted comfort from an untried youth. I cannot exactly remember how I found out the news of his death, so I try to picture it. Brand's wife lived at Edoras, and I was still there.
Suddenly the answer appeared and the scene was clear. "You were holding her, she did not cry, but it seemed that all the life ran out of her face. You must have brought us the news yourself."
Théo: The tension leaves my shoulders at your words. “This proves that I was meant to ride to Edoras sooner than I expected. If we had not spoken of this, the note that is already waiting to be sent would have been taken by despatch tomorrow, and I would not have returned until I was due to.”
But my smile is bittersweet. That is the answer I had hoped for, yes, yet it means using the death of someone close to me as an excuse to travel to Edoras. When I think of him, I realise that he would have approved, would have done the same thing in my place. But when I think about how Freya will take the news …
I move closer, needing to leave behind all that has been said, all that is to come, just for a while and there is nothing I can do now until morning. Nuzzling your neck, I drink in your scent as your hand strokes down my shoulder. “And I promise I will be careful.”
Éomer: The meaning of your words becomes clear to me slowly. These differing times can be so confusing, and I did not pay attention then, those years ago.
"Do you mean that Brand has just died, for you? In your time, I mean." My heart is full of sorrow for you. "I am sorry, Théo, for I know how much he meant to you." And I have put my petty concerns for my reputation on your shoulders when you have lost your life-long friend.
"Let me help you forget, for a while." I know I cannot take this pain away from you, but I can touch you and kiss you for hours until you cannot think anymore.
Théo: One nod against your neck both answers your question and agrees to your suggestion, and my voice is hardly more than a whisper. “I will miss him.”
The night we returned to the Deep after he was lost, we told tales of his bravery, sang songs in his memory and drank ale in his name until there were only a handful of us left awake. As the dark of night began to pale, those left walked with me out onto the battlements and we drank one last solemn toast as the sun rose. But grief wrapped itself around my heart, only beginning to ease when I saw you face today and now, every touch of your fingers soothes my soul as well as my body.
You pull me closer, hands moving in firm strokes down my back, your lips lightly grazing over my neck, trailing over my skin until they meet mine. Your kiss is soft at first, slowly growing more insistent and my fingers tangle in long golden strands as I press against you. For now, nothing exists but us, and I let go of everything else and lose myself in your touch.
But I have seen you recently at Edoras, and the memory of that meeting has me unsettled. I was afraid to look at you too long or too fondly, for fear that hostile eyes would mark my regard for you. However, that constraint may have given rise to other problems, which worry me. Yet another gift is the opportunity to talk to you without fear, though I cannot tell you precisely what has occurred, I can reassure myself on certain things.
The angle of the sun coming through the long windows on the west wall has lengthened by the time we stop, panting and grinning at each other. By mutual impulse, we begin putting the weapons away, cleaning and drying them as we work.
"Théo . . . " I cannot hold my questions back any longer. "How well do you know Boromir of Gondor?"
Théo: This has been a most enjoyable way to spend the afternoon, sparring with you, noting how you have honed your skills over the years that divide us. And it has taken my mind off the loss of a comrade, a friend , given me respite from grief for a while. As I rub a cloth down my sword, the dual metals giving the impression of smoke curling around the blade, your question surprises me.
“Boromir? He is a good friend, although it has been a while since our paths crossed, and I will admit that my memories of our last meeting are hazy. I know it involved a tavern on one of the lower circles of Minas Tirith, enough ale to swim in, a handful of willing wenches, and waking up with a headache the following morning that lasted for two days.”
I snort with laughter at the memory, and you grin at me, but there is more weight behind your question than whether he is a good drinking partner or not, and I am curious as to what has prompted it.
“He is also an honourable and trustworthy man, one I would have no hesitation to have at my back in a fight. Why do you ask?”
Éomer: I run my thumb absently along the edge of the blade I hold, testing the sharpness, and gathering my thoughts, wondering how much to tell you of the absurdity of Boromir's quest.
Perhaps you can tell me how to judge his words. "He appeared at Edoras a few days ago, on a lame horse. I had never met him before, as you know. But his errand was strange enough that they summoned both of us to the capital." I glower at the memory of fawning and snivelling. "They hardly dared not," I mutter.
The sword in my hand feels natural and I know that I am not wise enough to think without a weapon. And I do not want to fail your future self, the older version of you who has gambled so much to keep our people safe.
"He is riding north on an urgent errand at his father's behest. He seeks some Elven fastness in the far North, based on nothing but some prophetic dream that he and Faramir have shared. A weapon fearsome enough to win the war he hopes to find." I smile wryly. "It was impossible to keep his quest altogether secret and now . . . I do not
know how much to trust this news he brings."
Théo: “Faramir was always the one blessed, or perhaps cursed, with strange dreams. If he and Boromir shared the same dream, and Boromir acted on it leaving his beloved Gondor behind, I would trust what he has to say.” I am more than curious as to what this weapon could be, but that is not what concerns me.
They summoned us to Edoras? Why would you not say that my father had summoned us? And your words, the tone of your voice ... My brow furrows, matching your frown and I have to bite back so many questions as to what would affect you so. My fingers trace the detail on the sword’s hilt, the knotwork that twists and turns, weaving in and out and back over itself.
I know there are things you cannot tell me, and I trust your judgement on this. Completely. That is the reason I do not ask questions of the future, because I know that foreknowledge could be a dangerous thing. If I know what happens, I may seek to change things, and the outcome may be worse than it already is, so I do not press you for any more than you tell me.
Your hair is damp against my fingers as I push it back from your face. “How did Boromir seem?”
Éomer: Again, I wish I had met the man before, to have some measure by which to judge his current mood. "He seemed a man who had been too long patrolling the outlands, with no relief and no companionship."
I knew Faramir's proclivities from meeting him in this world, but we had never talked about his brother. And I had been too unsettled by the undercurrents rippling through Edoras to offer any warrior's comfort to Boromir. I had needed my own comfort, but you were denied to me by our own common sense, knowing that any tryst between us would cause trouble.
I lean into your touch, trying to erase the memory of the discontented murmurings and vile rumours that had reached my ears, thanks to Éothain's generosity with his purchase of ale. The rot has not affected my own Riders, but the tone of the tales has begun to alarm me.
"I merely wondered if he was a man given to flights of fancy and wild pursuits. We are bound to his country and people by our ancient oaths. I would know what manner of task we will have if Gondor should summon our aid." And given the situation in Meduseld, if we can afford to keep our oaths.
Théo: “No, I have always found him to be of steady character.” So it has not come to that yet, we have not been summoned to Gondor’s aid. “As for our oaths … they do bind us, but we cannot fulfil them if it will be at the expense of our own people.” I want to add that my father will make the decision, if it comes to that, but something stops me. The possibility that it would not be my father’s decision to make is a thought I do not care to dwell on. My fingers move lower, onto your neck, stroking, soothing, wanting to take away the concern that fills your eyes.
“Whatever happens, we will face it together.” I can think of nothing in our world or any other that would fracture my trust in you, no matter what the future holds.
Éomer: You words lighten my heart, but they make me realise what it is that I need from you this day. Not a cousin nor a lover, but my commander, the Prince of Rohan is the man I need.
"When the time comes, remember this day," I whisper.
I step back, away from your touch, looking at the sword in my hands. It is not Gúthwinë, but it will have to do. I sink to my knees, the pommel in my right hand, the flat of the blade laid across my left forearm in the traditional way of our people. I meet your eyes and raise the sword to you.
"I pledge my oath to you and I offer you my sword, and my life, and my honour."
My gaze does not falter, even when your eyes widen in shock, while I wait for your answer. This oath is one that I should properly give only to the King, but I have no other way to let you know that the wicked things that are being whispered about me are not true. You have my loyalty, not as cousin and lover, but as my future king.
Théo: I frown as you move away from me, not understanding your quiet request to remember until you sink to your knees and shock me with your oath.
You swear this to me now? An oath reserved for Kings? A knot of fear for my father twists in my chest but now is not the time for questions. This is important to you, and you would not do this without good reason so even as my mind races, my body reacts to the words and I stand tall, looking down into your solemn eyes as I take the sword. You bow your head and I place my hand on your hair.
“I accept your sword, your life, your honour, Éomer son of Éomund, and the pledge you make that binds you to me. Rise.” Taking a pace back, I hold the sword out with both hands and offer it back to you. As your hand closes around the hilt, the oath is sealed, but there is more I must say before I shrug off the mantle of Marshal, and I hold your gaze as I speak.
“I will always remember this day. When next you see me in Rohan, look into my eyes and you will see the truth of it. Your loyalty is something I will never doubt, no matter what happens.”
Éomer: I take the sword back and nod at your words, relief coursing through me and making my throat thick. I did not realise until this moment how much the weight of the accusations has wearied my soul. To know that I have your unswerving faith in me heals the wounds caused by Gríma and those who ape his twisted words.
"He is not dead." My voice is low, knowing that my actions must have brought you fear that such had come to pass. Though, I do not tell you that I think it will be no long time before I make this same oath to you in front of all of Edoras.
But I owe you something, if nothing else in thanks for your instant recognition of what I needed from you. I take a deep breath to steady my voice.
"It is whispered that I seek to supplant you, to . . . usurp your rightful place. The Riders under our commands, those of the East Mark and the West Mark do not believe such hateful tales. But in Edoras . . . " I trail off, unwilling to burden you with the full story of the ills that have stricken our capital.
Théo: He is not dead. I let out a ragged breath, closing my eyes for a moment and nodding my thanks for that small piece of very necessary information. The oath you swore … I thought it could only mean one thing but relief turns to anger as you tell me why you were compelled to swear this to me now.
“Who would dare spread these vile rumours? Why would anyone seek to drive a wedge between us?”
My eyes flash with hatred and a white hot rage wraps itself around my heart as realisation dawns. I thought my father would tire of his flattery, his grovelling manner, but the way Grima looked at me last time I was in Edoras when my father chose to follow his advice over mine on a trivial matter … there was a note of triumph in his eyes, and I shrugged it off as nothing. The petty delusions of a small minded man who has never hidden his hatred of me when we are alone. What if his influence over my father has grown so strong that he can make him believe these lies that I have no doubt he started? The blood drains from my face. You would be branded a traitor.
“Wormtongue.” I spit out his name. “I will have his head for this!!”
Éomer: You are quivering with rage and I wish to touch you, but I do not know if that is the right thing for you at this moment. And your words touch off questions in my mind . . . How can you kill the worm now, when he is alive in my time? So, you must not have done it, but . . . you didn't know it was necessary until now, but . . . the possibilities are making my head spin. I do not have any words that I can use for this situation.
"But he is there in my time," I protest, and then drop that line of thought. I have no objections to you killing Wormtongue, but I do not have the words to express my confusion about the different times.
Clearly, you need the whole story. "We are strong and united, you and I, and our Riders. You persuaded the Riders to accept me as Third Marshal, though I am the youngest ever made. When commands come from Edoras that would weaken us, we ignore them. The Riders are loyal to you and they know that following you rather than those who claim to speak for your father is the only way they can ensure the safety of all our people." And send Saruman and those who would betray us to the hells they deserve.
Théo: My breathing steadies as you talk. To know that we fight this together, and from a position of strength helps me think more clearly. My rage simmers as I walk over to the window, folding my arms and gazing out into the dying sunlight. But it is not the yard I see, rather the view from the Golden Hall down over Edoras. The place I felt so safe growing up in has become a nest of vipers, ready to strike at those I care for, those I love.
“We fight those from outside who would harm our people, fight and die.” Brand’s face flashes in front of me. We were friends our whole lives until he took a spear in the gut in the last skirmish and died in my arms. “We should not have to fight this rot from within also.”
I hear you walk up behind me, your fingers slipping tentatively onto my shoulder, and I cover them with mine, glad of the contact.
“Wormtongue is still alive in your time, so I have not killed him. Yet. But what if killing him removes one problem only to be replaced by another, something worse?” My sigh of frustration is cut short by a stab of fear, and I spin round to face you.
“Wyn? Is she still in Edoras? Is she safe??”
Éomer: I do not think it would be productive to tell you of the slime that seeks to drag her into its clutches. I know we both could not bear to do what we must if she was not there to tend your father. Sometimes the weight of the choices we face would seem to break our backs. No man should have to decide between so much grief.
"She is well. No one will touch her, that much we ensured when we trained her with me. She remains beside the King and none question her care of him. She is safe."
But there is no one else that we can spare to guard Edoras for us. We had agreed it would be better for us to fight in the outer edges of our kingdom, defending it from raiders. "Wormtongue's greatest fear is giving the Riders a reason to request that you and I unite and challenge him openly. He will not act against her for that."
Théo: I nod again, glad beyond measure to know she is safe, even though it is more through circumstance than by design. My anger towards the worm is tempered by the look in your eyes. Concern for your sister, my father, our people … My fingers graze your cheek, my gaze locked on yours. You kept this from me, and perhaps your reasons were the same as mine were when I did not ask what the future held for fear of changing it, but I think there was more to it than that.
“You bore all this alone, these past months we have been meeting here, shielded me, kept me safe from this knowledge, but the need for silence is past. This place is our sanctuary, a respite for us both from the ills we face, and now it is a place where you can share what ails your heart when you need to as well as sharing the comfort we find in one another.”
I brush your hair back from your face, fingers tangling in the long strands. “There is no-one I would rather have with me, Mer, even if we cannot always stand side by side, no-one.”
Éomer: Your touch on me brings me more ease than I think you ever will know, for once again, I lack the words to express what you mean to me. "Love" does not seem to be a large enough concept to cover all of my feelings.
And all at once, I understand that my total surrender to you has been something else that I have needed from you. My submission to you has partly been because of my love for you and my loyalty to you, and my complete trust in you. But a small part of it has been relief to lay aside the constant wearing mantle of holding the fate of our people in my hands, to turn myself and my fate over to you. And whether you have known my need or not, does not matter. You have taken my burdens away for a short while with your touch.
"I wish that I could grant your future self the same peace that you give me now." That other Théo has haunted eyes, full of pain from seeing too many friends die and watching his father slowly slide into sickness and madness. Perhaps all I can give him is the memory of how it is between us now, a dream of love to ease his nights.
Théo: Both hands dig into your hair as I move closer. “My future self will carry the memories of our time here together. They will help him when he wishes he could be close to you, when he misses your touch, your company, just as they do now.” My lips brush over yours.
“He will remember the scent of you … the taste of you … “ I take a deep breath and you fill my senses as my tongue flicks out against your mouth.
“And when you must stay apart for fear of revealing too much, one glance across the hall will remind him of how you feel against him. He will remember warm skin and hard muscle and he will remember all that has passed between us today and take strength from those memories, take strength from you.” My voice becomes hoarse as my need for you intensifies. “You bring him peace, Mer, because you bring me peace, and I will not forget.” Your lips open under mine, the kiss deepening as my hands tighten in your hair and your arms slip round me, crushing us together.
Éomer: The press of your body against mine feels so right, so natural, that I wonder what I ever did before you and I found each other. My desire spikes sharply as we pull closer together, but under all of the urgency and lust, is that river of peace that I find in your arms and no other place.
The floor of this room is cushioned in one area and I pull you to it, unable to wait long enough to get upstairs to the bed. We strip quickly, I need to feel your skin against mine.
"Please . . . need you."
Then you are there with me, and we are rocking and sliding together, the pleasure ripping through me in an explosion of heat and light.
Théo: You arch against me with a cry and send me falling over the edge with a shuddering moan, to land safe in your arms as our limbs twine together. Sated, we lie quietly for a while, no need for words until thoughts and concerns over what we talked about earlier slip back.
Usually it is easy to leave behind cares and worries when I come here, but I learned too much today to push it so easily away. Propping myself up on an elbow, I trail my fingers down your arm, and I come to a decision.
“I will ride for Edoras as soon as I return. I was not due to leave the Deep for six more weeks, but I must know how things go there, and sooner rather than later.”
Éomer: I had wanted to forget the fears that weighed me down earlier, but I know that is a luxury that you and I will never have because of who we are. But I stay close to you, wanting to be near for a little while longer before that other world intrudes again.
I search my mind, trying to remember what happened those years ago, when Wormtongue first arrived, before we recognised what kind of threat he posed for our people and the King.
"He does not know that we act against him. We have been very careful, once you understood what game he was playing. He attributes his difficulties with command to the undisciplined nature of our people. Be careful."
Théo: I nod slowly and run my lips over your shoulder as I think. An hour ago, I was ready to ride non-stop to Edoras, walk straight into the Golden Hall and take his head right there and then without a word for what he dares to do. But you are right, care must be taken here.
With a growl of frustration, I bury my head in your chest. If it is too late to stop him ensnaring my father, his suspicions must not be aroused, and my unexpected and unnecessary appearance my well do that but there has to be a way. It will drive me insane to have to wait for weeks before I can go back. Behind closed eyes, Brand’s face swims into my vision. He’s laughing, his dark hair rippling as he turns away from me and takes off over the plains …
My eyes snap open and my head snaps up as something hits me. “Mer, think back. Can you remember how the news of Brand’s death arrived in Edoras?” My mind works, trying to remember if you would have been in the city or in Aldburg. At the same time, I think of the note penned after days of deliberation that lies on my desk back in the Deep, asking that Brand’s family be notified of his death. It was to be sent in the despatches tomorrow, even though I would have preferred to tell them myself. I did not want them to have to wait weeks more for the news. “If it arrived by despatch, I will bide my time, not return until I was due to.”
Éomer: I try to think. I had known that Brand was your closest friend and I had envied his easy way with you. I remember wanting to comfort you when he was killed but I had been afraid that you would not have accepted comfort from an untried youth. I cannot exactly remember how I found out the news of his death, so I try to picture it. Brand's wife lived at Edoras, and I was still there.
Suddenly the answer appeared and the scene was clear. "You were holding her, she did not cry, but it seemed that all the life ran out of her face. You must have brought us the news yourself."
Théo: The tension leaves my shoulders at your words. “This proves that I was meant to ride to Edoras sooner than I expected. If we had not spoken of this, the note that is already waiting to be sent would have been taken by despatch tomorrow, and I would not have returned until I was due to.”
But my smile is bittersweet. That is the answer I had hoped for, yes, yet it means using the death of someone close to me as an excuse to travel to Edoras. When I think of him, I realise that he would have approved, would have done the same thing in my place. But when I think about how Freya will take the news …
I move closer, needing to leave behind all that has been said, all that is to come, just for a while and there is nothing I can do now until morning. Nuzzling your neck, I drink in your scent as your hand strokes down my shoulder. “And I promise I will be careful.”
Éomer: The meaning of your words becomes clear to me slowly. These differing times can be so confusing, and I did not pay attention then, those years ago.
"Do you mean that Brand has just died, for you? In your time, I mean." My heart is full of sorrow for you. "I am sorry, Théo, for I know how much he meant to you." And I have put my petty concerns for my reputation on your shoulders when you have lost your life-long friend.
"Let me help you forget, for a while." I know I cannot take this pain away from you, but I can touch you and kiss you for hours until you cannot think anymore.
Théo: One nod against your neck both answers your question and agrees to your suggestion, and my voice is hardly more than a whisper. “I will miss him.”
The night we returned to the Deep after he was lost, we told tales of his bravery, sang songs in his memory and drank ale in his name until there were only a handful of us left awake. As the dark of night began to pale, those left walked with me out onto the battlements and we drank one last solemn toast as the sun rose. But grief wrapped itself around my heart, only beginning to ease when I saw you face today and now, every touch of your fingers soothes my soul as well as my body.
You pull me closer, hands moving in firm strokes down my back, your lips lightly grazing over my neck, trailing over my skin until they meet mine. Your kiss is soft at first, slowly growing more insistent and my fingers tangle in long golden strands as I press against you. For now, nothing exists but us, and I let go of everything else and lose myself in your touch.
