Yours to Command

Sunlight

Knowing the limitations of her sex, a maiden is well advised to trust her father's judgement where the selection of a suitable husband is concerned. He will make sure such an important decision is based on the worthiness and eligibility of a suitor and not on some silly fancy, which will pass as quickly as it has arisen.

(Belecthor: The Gondorian maiden's guide to proper deportment)

***

Gruel... Éomer tried to muster up some enthusiasm. It was food after all, nourishing and easy to digest and he'd survived on much worse in the past. He dipped his spoon in the stuff and started eating. Bland and gluey, as expected. But at least he felt stronger this morning and had actually managed to make his way to the bathing room and back on his own. A small victory.

The door opened and he looked up quickly. But it was only one of the servants, coming to gather up the used sheets that Daeron had dumped at the foot of the bed the night before. With a quick curtsy she left the room again. Éomer frowned down at his tray and pushed away his bowl – he'd had enough of the stuff. Then he sighed and had to acknowledge to himself why he felt so out of sorts. Morosely he stared at the empty chair and covered up harp next to his bed. He knew it was selfish of him to want Lothíriel's company when she was resting after last night's vigil, but he could not help it.

The door swung open again and a blond head poked in. "Awake at last, brother of mine?"

"Éowyn! What are you doing here?"

His sister grinned and stepped into the room. "Aren't you pleased to see me?" She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and sat down in the vacant chair, dumping a bundle of cloth she had been carrying on the floor.

"Of course I am," Éomer replied. "But shouldn't you be in Ithilien with your newly wedded husband?"

She waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, don't worry. I haven't abandoned my husband already. Faramir is in Minas Tirith as well."

"He's here too? Whatever for?"

"Éomer, first we get a message informing us that Lothíriel has been abducted and the next day another one arrives saying you are in the Houses of Healing, injured and fighting for your life. Of course we came!"

"Oh!" He had not considered that possibility before. "Well, I'm sorry to cause you unnecessary worry. They should have known better than to send for you."

His sister raised an eyebrow. "Aragorn did not think so. In fact since I arrived here two days ago, I've been taking turns with Lothíriel watching over you."

At her words he sat up straighter. "Éowyn, do you know where Lothíriel is? The healer this morning only said that she had retired for a rest."

She grinned. "Is that why you sound so grumpy?"

"I'm not grumpy!" he protested. But when Éowyn kept looking at him quizzically, he felt a reluctant answering grin rise to his lips. "Well, maybe a little bit," he conceded.

Éowyn laughed. "The Warden has offered Lothíriel the use of a small room in the healers' wing to sleep in during the day. No doubt she will be along later in the afternoon to check on you." When Éomer opened his mouth to ask a question she held up her hand. "And yes, she's got guards watching her at all times."

Satisfied, Éomer nodded. "Good! By the way, has a search been organised to make sure none of the Southrons escaped?"

"Aragorn has had the city searched, but no more were found. I know Faramir's rangers have stepped up their patrols and also Elfhelm will come along later to report on his efforts of scouring the countryside. He wanted to see you this morning, but you were still asleep."