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Rider of the Mark	By : ZeDrippyVessel Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 22785 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings book series and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 42
- 43
- 44
A/N - Again my apologies for some of the crazy font and random boldness. It's not in my original that way and it doesn't come up that way anywhere else I've posted... it's just something here and it refuses to be corrected.

Rider of the Mark
Chapter 42

To be Rohirrim

The King of Rohan sat at the small table; head in his hands, eyes squeezed shut, blonde hair spilling loosely over his shoulders. That he hadn't slept the night before was obvious; he was still in his state finery, bits of straw dusting his shoulders and the seat of his leggings. Aefre figured if she looked closely, she would find some in his hair. She glared over Éomer’s shoulder at her husband, unseen by the young king. This was *his* fault and Gamling knew she knew it.

"She has brothers, you know," Éomer moaned. "Three!" Without looking up, he lifted three fingers. "They want my arse."

"Princess Lothiriel's father-"

"Wants my head!" He peered over splayed fingers.

"Sire-"

"Can you hide me? Sneak me out of Gondor?"

"Sire, really-"

"Really!" Éomer snapped back before howling, "Nothing! Happened!" Finally, he lifted his head, anguish crossing fair features. "I swear it. I didn't touch her!" His eyes flitted between Gamling and Aefre. "She asked to see my horse! You were there! You saw! She seemed interested, how could I refuse? But both doors were stuck, latched on the outside! I tried all night... well, not all night, but - If I ever find out who locked those doors..." He dropped his head back down in his hands, missing the shocked looks that passed between his Marshal and his Lady. "I'm doomed. Doomed."

Gentle hands kneaded the back of his neck. "Sire." Aefre's voice was soothing, "Surely, if you sit down, Ruler to Ruler-"

"He lunged at me!" Éomer jerked away from her and turned to face his advisor's wife. "She held him back!" He pounded the table, making the small bowl of fruit jump. "That little tiny thing hauled him back and told me to just leave and go!" He held his index finger and thumb a hair apart. "I feel *this* big. I am King of Rohan, a seasoned warrior, and veteran of Orc and Mountain Men skirmishes. I survived Pelennor and the Black Gate! I led men to their death! To life! And I feel *THIS*, " he shoved the two digits in Aefre's face, "big!" He dropped his head back in his hands. "I can hide until dark. I'll take Dréogan, feed him apples, ride him back to Edoras"

"Really, my lord, don't you think you are over-reacting?"

"Over-Reacting? OVER-REACTING?" He repeated it louder and came to his feet, towering over the woman who for some reason did not back down. "Lady Aefre! I just spent the night locked in a barn with a princess! Not a whore or a barmaid or a serving woman from home. The only daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth! Do you realize what the connotations are?"

Aefre shot a look to her husband, who shrugged and attempted to look interested in the garish tapestry on the wall. She shook her head and glared angrily. *I'll deal with you later tonight, you slugabed! * With a well-practiced hand, she pushed the young king into a comfortable armchair and pulled up a footstool, sinking gratefully into it. "Sire-"

"Would you stop 'sire-ing' me? At least in private?" Éomer rested the side of his head on a propped hand. "Gamling? What am I going to do?"

***She's a Princess. She’s not dumpy or ugly or a chatterbox, but she's a Princess and you are sooooooo doomed! YES!***

"Have you thought about flowers?"

"Flowers?" Éomer looked confused "Why would I think about... what do flowers have to do with this?"

Aefre was now openly glowering at her husband. Gamling, for all his bravado...

***I'm so dead. Move over Dréogan. You'll have plenty of company tonight! ***

...smiled gamely. Aefre shook her head, shoulders drooping.

"Lady Aefre. You look very tired. Is this crass Horse Lord not allowing you any rest since your marriage?" Gentle fingers lifted her chin and for a moment, Aefre saw the ghost of Théoden flicker across the features, the eyes of his nephew.

"I... I..."

"She's pregnant."

"Pregnant?" For the first time all morning, Éomer’s face split into a grin. "She’s having a baby?"

"That's usually what 'pregnant' means, Éomer." Gamling's voice was droll, but Aefre could see the smile and pride on his face.

Éomer grabbed both of her hands. "Small wonder he was in such a hurry to get you to the glade and wrapped in his cloak!" He turned and pointed at Gamling, Aefre’s hand still clutched in the King’s grasp. "I told you! I told you, on the top of Minas Tirith, remember? Horse Lordlets and Shield Toddlers!" He turned back to Aefre, finally taking in the looser clothing, and the aura of calm that surrounded the normally bustling woman. "Dunharrow?"

"Yes."

"YES!" Éomer pumped his fist in the air, before dropping it in concern. "I have no business dumping my problems on you." He made to stand. "I'll-"

Aefre leaned over, shoving him backwards into the chair he was rising from. "You'll sit! And listen!"

Éomer turned to Gamling. "Is she always this forceful?"

"Yes."

***Especially under the covers***

"Poor sot."

***You don't know the half...***

"Sire... Éomer. Back to the subject at hand. Lothiriel. Do you like her?"

Éomer blinked, "Well... yes..."

"Does she like you?"

Éomer’s eyes flickered back and forth. "Why... I think so..."

Aefre had placed both hands demurely on his knees. "Despite the circumstances, would you like to see her again? Get to know her better?"

"Aefre, I-"

"You *need* to talk to her father, Éomer." Aefre clasped his hands in hers. "Not as Ruler to Ruler, but man to man. You need to calm down and you need to sort yourself. Imrahil will respect you the more for it. Tell you what," she patted his hand reassuredly, "you need to go for a ride-"

"Aefre, I-"

"A loooong ride. Take my husband with you." If Gamling heard the stress on the words 'my husband', he didn't let on. "Béma knows, Firefoot and Dréogan need the exercise. Leave the walls of the city and get your mind cleared. Think what you wish to say to Imrahil and to Lothiriel. Be honest and truthful, but most of all, be yourself." The tall, young Rohirrim made to rise. "Oh, and bathe and change clothes before you ride. You don't want to show up in your slept and then ridden in wedding finery. Gamling will join you in the stables in half an hour. Now go!" She shooed him away and waited for the sound of the door latching behind him.

Gamling cleared his throat. "I think I'll change in my riding clothes and go on down-"

"You'll do no such thing! Gamling! How cou-"

Strong arms encircled her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Have I told you lately how amazing you are?"

"-ld you... if I recall correctly, you bellowed your satisfaction with several of my more endearing traits quite a bit last night!"

"I did not bellow. Tilt your head."

"You did so," Aefre tilted and was immediately assaulted by Gamling's mouth. He pulled her in tighter. "You could have woken the dead!"

"Didth noth!"

"Didth tooth!" Aefre chided, mimicking back.

Gamling raised his head. "I couldn't have woken the dead. Aragon already did that and released them!" Gamling’s hands slid around, gently cupping her breast, his mouth canvassing the nape of her neck.

“If you think to distract me-“

“Perith thuh thouth.”

Aefre was melting, the warmth of his mouth, his embrace, becoming blessedly familiar and welcoming and…

“Am I distracting you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

***

An hour later, rosy-cheeked and well satisfied, Aefre strolled along the hanging gardens in the upper levels of Minas Tirith, with Lothiriel. Gamling had left the walls with the Rohirrim Ruler, the two now no doubt, kicking up dust on the surrounding fields outside of the city boundaries. The moment Gamling had left – smiling, in fact, strutting, oh no mustn’t forget the strutting, tail-bird – preening of a man who has a well pacified wife – Aefre quickly sponged off in cool water and brushed her hair until it crackled. She sent a serving girl to find the whereabouts of the Princess and changed into a high-waisted gown, clearly revealing her expanding waistline. Within a short time, she returned with news that the Princess was ‘resting’ in her rooms. The way the girl rolled her eyes, told Aefre that Lothiriel was doing anything BUT resting. Getting directions to her chambers, Aefre made her way through long hallways, twisting passages before finding the proper door, guarded by a proper harridan. Using every bit of her noble Shield Maiden persona, Aefre made her way into the luxurious rooms, to find the Princess sitting on a stool, half- finished needlework, dangling in a listless hand and staring off into the hills showing through the parted drapes of her balcony. Despite the badgering of her middle-aged serving woman, Aefre crossed the room and sat down in the chair across from the young woman.

“Lothiriel?”

The girl turned tear-reddened eyes towards the Rohirric noblewoman. “Oh, Lady Aefre. What happened? What did I do? Ada is-”

“Angry?” The girl nodded dejectedly. “Aye. As I figured. As he should be.” She reached over and touched the Princess’s hand. “Will you answer a few questions for me?” Again, the girl nodded. “Did Éomer behave in any improper manner while you were trapped in the barn?”

Lothiriel’s eyes opened wide, in shock, in horror. “N’uma! NO! He was a gentleman; saw to my comfort. He… he… gave me his cloak to sleep in!”

“Hmm.” Aefre hummed thoughtfully. “Did he sleep with you in the cloak?”

“MADAM!” The princess’s servant was aghast. “That is no question to ask-“

“I did not ask you. I asked her.” Aefre turned her steely gaze back on the frightened young woman. “Did he-“

“No!” Lothiriel seemed to be shocked at the volume of her voice and promptly lowered it. “No, he… well, he slept next to me, but not wrapped up in it with me.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Good?” Lothiriel questioned. “Why is that?”

“Had he spent the night with you wrapped in his cloak together, by Rohirrim custom, you would be considered married.”

“OH!” It was squeaked.

“WHAT?” The serving woman shouted. “I do not know what kind of barbaric rituals your wild people practice, but I’ll not let you lay as much as a finger on my lady. She will make a fine Belfalas marriage, I’ll make sure of it!” The woman was in a fine temper and only got angrier as she noticed Aefre smile. “I’ll not let her marry some… some… backwoods, wild thing from the middle of nowhere, where there are no harbors or ships or culture or-“

“Do you have a name?” Aefre interrupted smoothly.

“Thelielveril.” She drew up haughtily. “I am Thelielveril and I have been the Princess’s servant since she was born!”

“Ah. Thelielveril.” Aefre appeared to muse. “I suspect you could use a wild thing in your bed sometime. Would you like me to arrange that?”

The woman gasped angrily, jaw flapping like a landed fish let loose on the ground. “Why! I never!”

“Obviously.” Aefre retorted tartly. She turned back to the snickering young woman. “Princess, do you like Éomer at all?”

Lothiriel’s eye went languid. “Oh yes, he’s so-“

“Princess!” Thelielveril interrupted hotly, “I can see where this wretched excuse of a noble woman - oh my!”

Aefre stood up to her full height, seemingly to tower over the well-padded crone and looking down her nose most imperiously. “I am many things; however, unlike you, I have said nothing while you have heaped abuse and crudity on my country, my honor, and my King!” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “While you sat and cowered in your pampered halls, Éomer King rode to the aid of Gondor! His sister killed the WitchKing! Might I remind you, Théoden King lies in honored state in the very halls of Minas Tirith, along side Gondor’s kings at this very moment! Éomer is an honorable man, a King in his own right and considered good friend to Aragon, Elessar, King of Gondor! Wild thing, he might be; your Princess can do no better!” Aefre stepped back, hand splayed across the soft hump of her stomach. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed. “This display of temper can not be good for my baby!” She turned to a wide-eyed Lothiriel. “I need some air.”

“Oh, the balcony is right-“

“No, I’m thinking a walk through the hanging gardens.” She smiled serenely. “Please join me.”

“The Princess is not allowed-“

“I didn’t ask you, did I?” Thelielveril backed down, gasping. “I thought not. Princess?”

A mischievous light that Aefre decided Éomer found delightful shone in Lothiriel’s eyes. “I would very much like to accompany you to the Hanging Gardens.” She laid her needlework down to the side and stood up, straightening her gown.

“Your ladyship, this is most improper! Your father-“

“If it is so improper, I suspect you’ll tell him soon enough!” Lothiriel replied stiffly. “Lady Aefre, if you’ll lead the way.” The two women left the room, sweeping down the hallway and moving rapidly towards the gardens.

“How quickly will your tiring woman inform your father of your departure?”

“The moment we left.” Lothiriel was grinning, reveling in her freedom. “He confined me to my rooms! My Ada has never done that!”

“Listen carefully, Princess.” The two entered the cool, sheltered passageway, greenery hanging in open arbors and the tinkling of water coming from various fountains. “It is said Éowyn and Faramir fell in love among this beauty. Perhaps, it will aid you as well. Is it safe to assume you like the King of Rohan and would like to get to know him better?”

“Yes, of course!”

Aefre found a bench next to a fountain and sank down, artfully arranging her skirts before dropping her hand, fingers trailing in the cool water. “Éomer is very taken with you. Nothing would please the people of Rohan more than to see their King fall in love and marry.” She splashed lightly in the water. “I am very sorry to tell you this, but the two of you had a horrific joke played on you and it was perpetuated by my husband. Now you and my king are paying too steep a price and I wish to rectify it. Ah-“ she nodded in the direction from which they’d come. “Here comes your… Ada?... now. I am going to want to speak to him alone.”

“I think,” Lothiriel winked, “that I can help arrange that.” She leaned over and whispered, “Make much of your pregnancy. Ada is too well bred a gentleman to be overly rude.”

“I’m counting on that. Ah, Prince Imrahil. How nice of you to join us.”

The Prince stood tall, very angry. There were a few extra lines and several more gray hairs than he had had the night before. Lothiriel had inherited the deep emerald green eyes of her father and his smile did not reach the jeweled depths. “Lady Aefre.” He turned to his daughter. “Lothiriel-“

“Ada, please.” Lothiriel gently placed her hand on her father’s arm. “Listen to what Lady Aefre has to say. Please.”

The Prince’s shoulders were set. “This is not open for discussion.”

“Lady Aefre,” Lothiriel gestured to the Rohirrim woman, “rode from Edoras to Gondor on her horse.”

“I know.”

“Astride.”

“I know.”

“And she is pregnant. Can you believe it?” Imrahil’s eyebrow rose, the expression on his face unchanging. “Are you thirsty? I’m very thirsty!” Lothiriel gushed. “Why don’t I bring you something back? Something cool.” The Princess stood on tiptoe and kissed her father on the cheek. “Would you keep Lady Aefre company? I won’t be long.” The young woman turned and fled the corridor.

“I am being set up.” Imrahil watched his daughter disappear around a corner.

“Yes, you are.”

“I don’t like it.”

Aefre lifted her fingers from the fountain, flicking the water from the tips. She stood up slowly and laid her hand in the crook of his elbow. “I do not blame you. Walk with me a ways, please and tell me of Belfalas and Dol Amroth. I have never ventured there and I wish to see it through your eyes.”

“Lady Aefre-“

“Please. Saes – I believe that is the elvish word? Indulge an expectant mother.”

The Prince narrowed his eyes, seeing through the Rohirrim woman’s ruse, but as his daughter had indicated, he was too well bred and mannerly to be openly rude. Slowly, he began with the great harbors, crystal blue and sparkling water as far as the eye could see; great libraries with piles of scrolls, galleries of art, paintings, ledgers, critiques and histories of Numenor, of scholars debates…

“It sounds lovely. Lothiriel’s is very lucky to be raised in such splendor.” Aefre had looped her arm fully around his, leaning on the man’s spare frame slightly. “I can see why many of your people would consider mine wild.”

The prince stiffened. “After what your king did last night-“

“Sir, last night was not Lothiriel’s fault, nor was it the doing of Éomer’s.”

Imrahil stopped, his hand tightening slightly on Aefre’s. “Your king made sure it will be impossible for my daughter to make a decent marriage! He compromised her honor and sullied her name!” He raised a finger to cut off Aefre’s angry retort. “My sons and I have searched the city, not to behead him, but to corral him into a marriage contract. He owes us that!”

“HE owes you nothing!” Aefre pulled her arm free and settled both hands on her hips, a scowl Gamling would have recognized planted firmly on her face. “Your daughter asked me last evening what could she do to catch Eomer’s interest. I told her to ask him about his horse so that is my fault. My husband decided to drop the outer bar to entrap them for a short time. If anyone owes you anything, it is my husband and myself!” Aefre moved to stand at the balcony, her hand reaching to lightly touch the hanging pansies from the basket anchored above her head. “Éomer was innocent as was Lothiriel. If he says he did not touch her, he did not.”

“Why?” Imrahil hissed in her ear. “Why would you and your husband to such a horrid thing to your king?” From the profile she presented, he saw her smile benignly.

“My king is quite the prankster, as well as a meticulous matchmaker. He and his sister consider themselves very merry matchmakers indeed and, in the wake of mischievousness, have brought no less than eight Rohirrim couples to wedded bliss.” She plucked a wilted flower from the plant and laid it on the ledge in front of her. “Somehow, I caught their eye and for some strange reason, Éomer and Eowyn decided that Gamling and myself would make a wonderful couple.” A sharp breeze whipped through the balcony and the dying flower flew from the ledge, drifting off, buffeted by billowing winds. “I don’t know why. He is such a grumpy soul…”

“While you,” Imrahil finished for her with a smile, “are the very picture of Rohirrim gentility.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that!” Aefre was now flicking minute specks of dirt from the ledge. “Regardless, my husband was supposed to go down and unlatch the barn after a short time.”

“What happened? Obviously he didn’t.”

Aefre turn to face him and realized she could not meet his gaze. “That’s… my fault. My husband and I are, as you know, but newly wed and…” Aefre had been fidgeting prettily, before dropping her head and her hands to her side.

“And he is enjoying the comforts of his marriage bed.” Imrahil’s fingers touched her under the chin, lifting shrewd eyes upwards. “Would you like to know what I think?” Aefre didn’t answer and he didn’t really give her time to formulate one. “I think you are an intelligent woman and that you do not fidget. I think you would easily have a lesser man wrapped around your finger and I hope your husband puts his foot down with you when necessary. Regardless of the cause and whose fault, it does not change the fact that your King and my daughter spent seven hours alone and unsupervised. In my country, that ruins her reputation.”

“In my country, it would be seen for what it is! Every one would laugh and go on. The barn is NOT the most private place in the world for the wooing of a virgin!” Aefre eyes were flashing in sudden anger and Imrahil stepped back in the ferocity of it. As quickly as her temper flew, Aefre took a deep breath and calmed herself. “Sir?” she asked quietly, “do you love your daughter?”

“Do I-“ Imrahil gasped. “How can you ask such a thing? Of course I love her! I want what’s best for her!”

Again, Aefre smiled serenely. She linked her arm back through his and proceeded to walk him down the promenade. “You have told me of your country; let me tell you of mine. We are but a simple people; farmers, sheepherders. We breed and train horses, it is our gift. The majority of Rohirrim are as well versed with the lineage and bloodlines of their horses, as they are with their own ancestors. We have our own language – very few speak Westron. There are no great harbors. We fish in rivers, shallow rushing waters with many rocks. We have no great libraries; in fact most Rohirrim cannot read. Our history is kept in song; we hold our minstrels and bards in high esteem. We brew fine ales and wines; we toast and sing to birth, marriage, death.”

Aefre stopped and turned to look up at the tall Prince. “Compared to yours, our people are wild, untamed. Lothiriel’s servant openly called me a barbarian, my king a wild thing. Would you thrust your daughter into such with little warning? In a place so foreign? She couldn’t communicate with the staff; does she know anything of the breeding of horses? Will she blush at the workings of it? We are an earthy, straightforward people. Women are trained to fight because Orcs and Wild men roam our lands. Will she faint at the sight of blood?” Aefre stopped and waited for a moment, allowing her words to sink in completely. “Every luxury, every delicacy your daughter takes for granted, does not exist in Rohan. Éomer told my husband your daughter wears more wealth dangling from her ears, than our people will see in a lifetime.” She waited a few more moments before continuing. “She likes Éomer. And he likes her. Let him woo her properly. Give them time.”

Imrahil was clearly torn. Pride, love, confusion flickered across aristocratic features. “Time. Give them time?”

“What can time hurt? They get to know each other. They have time to settle to the idea. They learn about the other’s culture, expectations.” Again, a gentle hand was laid on Imrahil’s brocade-covered elbow. “Éomer King is many things; a noble and honorable man. If he says he did not touch her, he did not.” Aefre gazed over the Prince’s shoulder to see Éomer, freshly bathed and dressed, still rosy from his ride and her husband standing stern, serious, behind him. Éomer looked regal, imposing, calm, collected…

Scared to death.

***If this child is a girl, how will Gamling deal with her suitors?***

“I believe my King wishes to speak to you.” Aefre nodded in Eomer’s direction. “Please, give him a chance. Hear him out.” She stepped around, smiling at the young man. As she passed him, heading towards her husband, she patted him on the arm. “Keep your temper, bargain for a long betrothal. Rohan is VERY different from Belfalas.”

Gamling’s eyes raked his wife from head to toe, “I thought you hated that dress. You said it makes you look-“

“Pregnant. I am pregnant and I used my pregnancy to my advantage.” She saw Gamling peering over her shoulder at Éomer calmly walking towards Imrahil. “It will be fine. You had a good ride?”

She waited for the tall redhead to turn and take her hand. “Very good. Éomer yelled and cursed and complained to his heart’s content. Then he thought he saw… what IS her name?”

“Lothiriel.”

“Loth-i-re-ahl… why couldn’t she have a normal name?” They turned the corner and could no longer see or hear what was taking place between the two rulers.

“She has a lovely name,” Aefre retorted. “Éomer thought he saw her? At such a great distance?”

Gamling clenched her hand tightly. “Wishful thinking!” he spat tersely.

“GAMLING!”

*She isn’t fat or dumpy or mouthy!*

“How sure are you about her?”

Aefre thought for a moment, noticing he was leading her back to their chambers. “She is very nice. She is spirited, not shy; a little bit on the mischievous side. She’ll make a good match for Éomer. They just need a little… Gamling? Why are you taking us back to our rooms? “

*NOT! Dumpy dammitdammit to Mordor!*

“You need a nap.”

“I do not need a nap!”

“Aefre! I need you to take a nap!”

His wife huffed once. “What is it with men thinking women should sleep through their pregnancies?”

“I have just spent the last few hours listening to Éomer curse the woman, only to be followed by him… lauding her grace and beauty! You do NOT want to know what he compared her lips to! I am tired, grumpy, and I need you to take a nap!”

She stopped suddenly and tapped her lip. “I think you are needful of the nap and you simply wish for something soft to hold on to!”

***grrrrr where’d she go? Dammit!***

“Aefre!” he gritted between his teeth in attempt to keep his voice down, “You are the most exasperating wench a man could be married to!” He grabbed her elbow and they continued back down the corridor. “You act as if that is all I think about!”

“Hah! It is all you think about and if I hear one word of you complaining that you are never getting physical comfort since the marriage, you will sleep in the barn!”

Gamling held her firmly by the elbow, nodding curtly at passing servants in such a manner, they cringed and felt sorry for the woman he was leading wherever he was leading her. “I heard what you told Éomer; what did you tell Imrahil?”

“I told him the truth.”

The two reached their room. Gamling waited until both were inside and he back-heeled the door shut. “You did not tell him I locked him in the barn-”

Aefre was not about to capitulate. If her husband knew she had told the Prince her husband had locked his daughter in the barn, she would lose the argument before it began. “I told him the barn was no place to woo a virgin!”

Gamling barked in laughter. “That’s rich! I did-” He clamped his mouth shut.

Aefre nodded her head. “You came to my bed no fumbling virgin. I am not jealous of what comfort you took before me. That would include Eadignes.” Gamling inhaled sharply. “Besides,” and with this she grinned slightly in fond memory, “I lost mine in the barn too!” She bounced up and down on her toes several times. “I see no need to let Imrahil know that!” Her tone was very saucy.

Gamling’s arms went around her. “I am glad for what you are doing for Eadignes.” His nose was in her hair. “I do not know any woman who would be so giving to one of her kind.”

“Unfair things happen to good people.” With this, she looked at her husband. “She is good people.” She nuzzled him with her nose. “So the barn is special for you as well?”

Emboldened by his wife’s outburst, he openly admitted, “I was 16 summers. Her name was Gerád and she was a bit older than me. I used to take messages to Aldburg after I got my first cloak and she worked in the kitchens.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “She was patient and thorough but she was gone the next summer. I have no idea what happened to her.” He shrugged. “Probably married a farmer.” He flicked her nose. “Your turn.”

“Lufian. Two weeks before we were to be married.” By now, she was pulling on the ties of Gamling’s trousers. “It was raining and we were alone in the barn mating a stallion with a mare. It was her first time, so I was holding her in the mating stall. I… well… I had a very good view of the proceedings and… we couldn’t get into the hayloft fast enough.” Gamling’s leathers were dropping off with disgusting ease.

“I am glad he is a happy memory.” His hand fussed the lacings into a non-cooperative knot.

***damned laces bane of my existence!***

The waist of his leggings was now loose and Aefre’s hands slid under his tunic to his back. One hand grazed the ugly scar on his side and she lingered on it. “You make me equally happy.”

For some time, there was no sound, save the sound of clothing hitting the floor, the fusion of bodies, of willing acceptance and mutual satisfaction.

Eventually…

“Do you think Imrahil will kill him?” Gamling lay on his back, Aefre tucked under his arm…

***where you belong!***

… the fingers of his right hand and her left hand interlaced.

“No. He will hear Éomer out. Apparently, they do not have the same sense of humor the Rohirrim have and the Prince of Dol Amroth is severely aggrieved.” Gamling scowled at her words. “But as long as he believes that Éomer didn’t touch her and the barn isn’t a very romantic place…” her voice trailed off.

“Earthy thing,” Gamling whispered. Somehow, he pulled her in closer, tucking her head beneath his chin and waited for the inevitable deepening of breath from her. The mid-wife assured him that her need for sleep around the clock was normal, as would be the more frequent trips to the chamber pot. As his breathing began to match hers, he came to the inevitable conclusion that she was a very lucky Shield madam.

They did not notice that outside their own balcony, it was now raining.

***

At dinner that evening, the hall, nobility and visiting dignitaries all buzzed as Éomer danced attendance on Lothiriel. If they were expecting an announcement of a formal betrothal or a wedding date, they were sorely disappointed but it was obvious the Rohirrim King had come to some sort of agreement and terms with the Prince of Dol Amroth. If any of the men who attempted to dance with her after dinner were angered when Éomer cut in on them, they had the good sense to say nothing. The King of Rohan’s sheer height alone was enough to put any normal man back on his heels and Éomer used every inch to advantage. The slimy Lamedonian who bothered Lothiriel at the wedding, withdrew his attentions and focused on not so well-placed prey. Any available male that approached her was promptly growled at and every time it happened, Gamling grinned idiotically until Aefre would poke him in the ribs.

“You planned this!”

Gamling stood at the edge of the room, watching his wife being squired around the dance floor by the even tall by Rohirrim standards Erkenbrand. His eyes never left her.

“I have no idea-“

“Éomer,” Imrahil continued smoothly, “has a good advisor and marshal in you. Your wife is a fortunate woman.”

***Of course, she is. I determined that without your help-***

“Thank you for your kind words. As for planning this, I have no idea-“

“Yes, you do.” Imrahil stressed. Gamling saw a younger version of the Prince slide to his other side. “Your wife admitted that Éomer set the two of you up and you were looking to… retaliate.”

***She did? She did??? That’s it! She’s sleeping in the stables tonight!***

“If that is the case,” Gamling lifted a fine red wine glass from a servant walking by with a tray. “We failed as we were specifically looking for a princess that was fat, dumpy, and had the personality of a warg rider.”

Imrahil hissed, his breath jerking inward. His youngest son laughed heartily.
“Well, you did not miss by much! I have often questioned my sister’s personality many times! Ah, Ada,“ he waved his hand at his father, “leave off. I only tease.” The Prince visibly relaxed. “Éomer told me he has decided on a pre-betrothal gift for Lothiriel.”

“Did he?” Imrahil asked, his eyes never leaving his daughter or the King of Rohan. The two had retreated to a quieter corner, Éomer’s blond locks bent over Lothiriel’s dark tresses. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. M’lord, Gamling-”

“Just Gamling.”

“-what is a Nihtweard and a Hæfern?”

Gamling smiled and visibly relaxed, as he watched Erkenbrand begin to lead Aefre his way. She was flushed and glowing. It was obvious she needed sleep!

“Nihtweard is a rather spirited mare. She has sleek lines and wonderful well-built legs. She also has a strong gait and is swift of hoof. Éomer had chosen her to breed with his stallion, Firefoot,” Gamling ignored Imrahil’s quiet gasp. “Hæfern is her groom and trainer. He was long a captain in Théoden King’s éored until an injury affected his strength in battle. No doubt he is being left behind to ensure your daughter learns to ride properly.”

Imrahil had the sense to look baffled. “My daughter is an excellent horsewoman. She was taught by the best groomsmen in Dol Amroth.”

“Oh?” Aefre joined the small group, her arm linking with her husband’s. He looked tired, drained. As much as he hated to admit it, he was still recuperating from the last skirmish outside of Edoras and he wearied easily. He also was not sleeping well, still. She overheard the last bit of the conversation. “So your daughter rides astride?”

Now Imrahil was horrified. “My daughter is a lady; she-”

“I ride astride,” Aefre retorted coolly. “Are you saying I’m not a lady?’

Imrahil’s jaw flapped, while Amrothos snickered quietly. “Well… I… I…”

“Because if you said such, I shall have to call you out.” Aefre looked up at her husband, who was not smiling.

Imrahil, however, was now chuckling. “Lady Aefre. You have an amazing sense of humor…”

***Oh no now you’re in for it, I will let her take you out for that alone…***

“Are you saying that I am not capable of defending myself?”

***OH yes, you are dead. A dead prince deaddeaddead that’s my wife…**

Gamling focused on his elven wine-

***Too sweet too fruity not enough punch***

- seemingly studying the swirling red depths. “She has a morning star,” he murmured into the crystal. “She knows how to use it.”

“Prince Imrahil,” Aefre released her husband and walked behind the Prince and his son, touching the older man as she circled. “Éowyn was not the only woman from Rohan to fight on the fields of Pelennor. Many of our women died and were injured as well. If your daughter fancies herself to be the next Queen of Rohan, she better learn to act like a Rohirrim, speak like a Rohirrim, and to ride like a Rohirrim. She will earn our respect.” She saw Gamling tip his goblet to her in salute, before draining it. “Especially if she is to catch Éomer when he needs a thumping. Gamling,” her husband was showing signs of enjoying the wine a bit too much. He would get very little rest if this kept up. “I would like to retire for the evening. Prince Imrahil, I bid you good evening.” She nodded in deference.

Gamling set his glass down on a nearby tray. “She’s right,” he whispered as he passed the Prince. “Éomer will need thumping a lot.” His own dip was marginal as his dress cloak billowed behind him, moving quietly to catch up with his wife. They exited the noisy ballroom, traveling silently into more reserved halls, the sounds of revelry finally dying away behind them.

“I would have called him out.”

Gamling grunted.

“I should have called him out! Imagine! A real lady doesn’t ride astride! Where was he born? In a barn?”

“In a palace. Speaking of barns,” Gamling took his wife by the fingertips, “I believe you should sleep in the stables tonight.”

“Me?” she stopped in the middle of the hallway, glowering. “Me? What did I do to warrant that punishment?”

“You,” he patiently tucked her fingers into the crook of his elbow before continuing on, “told the prince we were looking to retaliate for Éomer setting us up. Therefore, you told our secret and you should sleep in the barn.”

“Did it occur to you,” she nodded at the servant scurrying past and waited until the woman moved around the corridor, “that I would not have been in the position of telling him that we were looking to retaliate had you not enjoyed our bed so much last night, you couldn’t be arsed to get out of it long enough to rouse yourself and free the two of them from the prison you locked them into? “

“Not my fault you’re snuggly.”

“What was that?”

Gamling stopped in front of their chamber door and opened it. “I said I am tired and feeling buggered. After you.” He stepped aside to allow her entrance.

“No. I’m going to sleep in the barn.” Aefre turned and got about three steps before a heavy hand grasped her shoulder.

“Sleeping in the barn will not be good for the baby, therefore, I give you reprieve… this time.”

Aefre looked at him shrewdly before walking around him and going into their assigned chambers. “Hmmmmph You like your bolster pillow too much, me thinks.”

Hmmmmm

***

Éomer walked with Lothiriel in the Hanging Gardens, under the so-called watchful eyes of his Marshal Gamling and Gamling’s wife. When he accompanied her to the market stalls and was balancing bag and box galore, it was whispered he might be smitten.

Two nights before the Rohirrim returned to Rohan, he presented her with a pewter ring with the Rohirrim standard beaten into it. The next morning, after formally resigning the agreements of his forbearers with Gondor, he properly asked for her hand and in the presence of Elessar, the King and the Prince shook hands in agreement.

At that point, Éomer Eadig, King of Rohan, started learning to play the waiting game.
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Rider of the Mark