Like a Blade Forged in Fire

Chapter 5

Lothíriel might have agreed to come on an outing with him, but she refused to ride any of the pretty mares that Éomer had added to the royal stables in the hope of tempting her, and instead chose her trusty Mellon. He would have loved to see her on something more high-spirited, but knew better than to push his luck.

They ended up with a whole pack of children along as well. Once Tarcil heard they were going to see horses, he announced he was coming too, which made Éothain's twin boys pester their father mercilessly. As for Hildwyn, Háma's daughter, she simply turned up with her pony in tow.

This meant that the children's mothers decided their presence was needed to keep an eye on things, since apparently two dozen of the king's best riders could not be trusted to bring their offspring back safely. At least Eanswith left the rest of her brood of children in her mother-in-law's care. The only one who decided to give their outing a pass was Amrothos, who had the long ride to Minas Tirith ahead of him the next day.

It took a while to sort everybody out, but finally they rode down the cobbled road leading to the gates. The town was busy, for it was a market day. Most of the stalls sold food, clothes or leather wares from the farms around Edoras, but there were some traders from farther afield in the Mark and even a few Gondorians. It pleased him to see signs of prosperity everywhere, houses freshly thatched, gardens planted with orderly rows of vegetables and the people greeting him with confidence and good cheer.

Rohirric children learnt to ride as soon as they could walk. The moment they passed the gates, Hildwyn and Éothain's boys raced ahead on their ponies, followed by Tarcil grimly determined to keep up. They took the Great West Road with the River Snowbourn on their left, bordered by willows.

On their right, at the bottom of the foothills, stretched the burial grounds of Edoras, encircled by a low, mossy stone wall and shaded by ash and yew trees. A few women were busy amongst the graves and memorial stones set up for those fallen at the Hornburg and in Gondor, raking away dead leaves and lovingly cleaning the stones. Simbelmynë threw thick amongst the grass.

Éomer looked away. This time a year ago he had been in Gondor on the way to the Black Gates, the new king of the Rohirrim and quite possibly also the last.

He had been aware of course of the dates coming one after the other: the battle at the Fords of the Isen where Théodred had fallen, Helm's Deep, the Fields of the Pelennor. They had not celebrated the anniversaries of any of the battles, their losses were still too raw for that. However, there would be a feast held on the day of Sauron's downfall. Weynild's staff was already busy hauling up casks of ale.

"What are you thinking about?" Lothíriel's soft voice interrupted his brooding.

He realised he had been frowning. "Just how much my life has changed in a year, all unlooked-for."

She nodded. "I know. You think that your life is set on a certain course and suddenly it's all different."

"I thought I'd serve my cousin as Third Marshal and settle down in Aldburg, like my father before me." He motioned towards their guard of riders. "Now I'm King of the Mark, Sauron has fallen and Éowyn has moved to far-away Ithilien, none of which I'd ever envisioned."

She gave him a measuring look. "Do you enjoy being king?"

"I never sought it." He hesitated. "And yet, it gives me the means of making a difference, of keeping my people safe and shaping a better future for them." He tried for a lighter tone. "And I like getting my own way."

"Really?" she quipped, following his lead. "I never would have guessed." Éothain riding beside him snorted audibly.

Up ahead the children squealed with delight as they splashed through the stream and back again. He noticed Lothíriel looking worried. "They'll be fine," he assured her.