The Greenwater

Disclaimer: Chapter One, y’all!!

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The words that Éomer had spoken to Théalyn that night echoed in his ears as he crouched behind a fallen tree, the end of his snare hanging loosely in his hands. Already he had managed to kill three; the fourth one would be his last and would make up the bulk of his and Théalyn’s small feast. He shifted his weight, ignoring the tingling that signaled his thighs going numb. It wouldn’t be long now. The rabbit had already stuck his nose out twice, sniffing the air for the scent of a predator. The hand that held the end of the snare was steady and Éomer held his breath as he waited…

Sure enough, the rabbit dared to look once more and this time its head fully emerged from the hole. Éomer’s hand moved like lightening and the leather loop tightened around the rabbit’s neck. He saw the small mammal start and then struggle against the hold. Éomer yanked hard, snapping the small bones in the rabbit’s neck and killing it instantly. He stood then from his hiding spot and wound the slack of the noose around his palm as he walked towards the lifeless creature. He loosened the other three rodents from his belt and wound all four together with the leather thong. He then turned and headed back in the direction of the waterfall.

As he approached the main pool, his eyes picked up on flickering light that signaled a fire. He thought then of Théalyn and tried to guess what she was doing – was she crouched near the fire, tending to it, or was she watering the horses? Perhaps she had dared to take a swim…and Éomer’s mind wandered back to that day so long ago. He shook his head, though, and decided that now was not the time to be thinking about teenage lust. He rounded the bend in the stream and the same pool that he had seen Théalyn in ten years ago was there below him. So was Théalyn. She was, however, fully clothed, but she had managed to arrange a few small torches around the heated water and the orange flames flickered in the night, reflected in the black waters of the pool.

Théalyn was seated, her saddlebag open in her lap, and she was digging through the leather pouch looking for something, but what it was, Éomer did not know. She paused then and looked up. Éomer took a step back as she did, and he tried to melt into the shadows. He thought she smiled again and she bent back to her task at hand.

“There’s a good bed of coals at the main pool,” Théalyn called out without looking up at him. “Get those rabbits spitted and cooking, and then meet me back here.”

Éomer hesitated before he moved, wondering if Théalyn had truly seen him or if she merely ‘felt’ him, like she had claimed she could do. But he moved anyway, and he made his way back down to the main pool at the bottom of the crashing falls. He made note of the two horses, the pair seeming content to graze for the time being. Éomer pulled out the small bone-handled dagger from his hip and set the rabbits down on a flat stone. He paused then, looking at the chunk of granite, and he recalled that it had been here years ago when this place was first discovered. Memories of a game of knucklebones with Théodred filtered through his head and Éomer had to force himself to think of something – of anything – that would take his mind off of Théodred.

He cut down the belly of the first rabbit and split the skin, pulling the soft pelt off in one swift movement. He did the same with the other three and set the skins out over the hot coals to dry the insides. He would take them back to Éowyn tomorrow – perhaps she could use them somehow. His sister was highly skilled with a needle and thread and she often fashioned herself wonderful pouches and hoods, all lined with fur. He finished cleaning the rabbits and then stepped from the fire pit to take a few green birch branches from a nearby tree. He stripped the bark from them and sharpened the ends into points. Holding the body of one small rabbit in his left hand, Éomer drove the skewer into the yielding meat. He watched the point go in, his hands red with the animal’s blood, and he stopped, his stomach heaving violently. Only hours before had he pulled a spear from his cousin’s body, the blood thick and staining – it was still on the thighs of his breeches and splattered through his hair. He made a sound of discomfort and swallowed, forcing himself to perform the task at hand. He pushed the skewer again and he felt it scrape against the bones. He inhaled and his hands shook.

The spitted rabbit fell to the stone and Éomer leaned over, gripping the edges of the makeshift table with his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the images of Théodred’s body and blood, but it was no use. His heart broke and he cried out in anguish. Somewhat defeated, Éomer sat back on his heels and let his hands fall to his lap. He sighed, his torso sagging, and felt the tears roll down his cheeks.

He didn’t know how long he sat there for, but suddenly he was turning at the sound of Théalyn’s voice. As he looked over her shoulder, he took in her beauty, enhanced by the moonlight. She had shed her cloak and was clad only in a pair of tight breeches and a tight fitting leather jerkin. Her hair was still bound at the sides, but the length of it flowed across her shoulders, glowing silver in the moonlight. Her footsteps were light as she approached, a look of worry etched on her fine features.

“Éomer?” She tried gently as she neared. She had waited longer than necessary for him and when he didn’t return to the pool, she became worried. The soft sound of sobbing had told her that the Third Marshal of the Riddermark was not faring well, and she stepped quickly over branches and rocks.

He tried to speak. His mouth opened but all that came out was a choked sob. Immediately, Théalyn was there, landing on her knees beside him, and she took his hands and held them still in hers. She was shocked to find him cold, his palms sweaty, and she ducked her head to try and catch his eye. He looked at her with a sidelong glance, like he wasn’t sure if she was there or not, and his eyes flashed with anger. His body shook with a rage that Théalyn would never quite understand, but she knew something of loss and death. Her one arm encircled him, pulling his head to rest against her chest as she stroked his ear and his jaw, trying to dispel some of his fear.

She felt his head come up and he rested his chin on her shoulder as he looked past her to the water. His arm came around her ribs and he held her tightly, his muscles contracting as he choked in emotion.

“Couldn’t save him,” Éomer said in a broken voice. He shut his eyes and more tears slid from the corners, and he pressed his face into Théalyn’s hair, the scent and warmth of the blonde tresses a comfort to him.

“You weren’t meant to,” Théalyn said softly as she let her fingers trail through his hair.

Éomer didn’t answer her, but he loosened his hold on her and he sat back, looking into her face. She frowned at the pain she saw there and she took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. “I wish I could take away the pain there.” She let her other hand trace the outline of his face and he closed his eyes when he felt her caress. “And I wish I could make it so Théodred wasn’t…” She saw Éomer’s face break into another bitter expression and she stopped short. She felt her own emotions overcome her briefly and decided that it wouldn’t do any good if she was upset as well. She took a deep breath and stood, still hanging onto Éomer’s hand.

“Come. Dinner can wait, yes?” She smiled.

Éomer grunted, not really responding to her question, but he stood then and let Théalyn lead him away from the main fire and back to the pool where the torches still flickered and gave off a warm golden light. She stopped then on a flat outcropping that overhung the main pool and she slid her cloak from her shoulders, folding it and setting it at her feet. Straightening, her fingers immediately went for the clasp of Éomer’s deep green cloak and she pulled the heavy wool from his body, lifting off a burden that was stained with the mud of the road and the blood of his fellow soldiers. It seemed to do the trick, for Éomer’s body relaxed almost immediately.

He watched her with curious eyes as she folded the cloak and made sure to lay it gently at his feet. Next she pulled at the leather straps of his armor, unfastening the buckles and laying the shoulder plates and arm braces next to his cloak. She remained there on her knees for a moment and worked the shin plates and his greaves off, and then unlaced his boots. She gently tapped each foot and he complied, toeing off the worn leather and nudging the mud-crusted footwear aside. Her head tilted up then, from her position at his feet, and he leaned down to brush aside the curtain of blonde hair that fell across her eyes. She sighed and leaned into the palm of his hand, loving the feel of his touch after so many years. She had not forgotten what it was like when Éomer touched her and her heart fluttered as she thought of the first time he had touched her.

His hands had not been as calloused that first time. As she stood again and began to work his sword belt open, she looked up into his face and saw that his eyes had never left her, and he stared at her, trying to guess her next move. His eyes were as green as ever and the swirling depths made her stomach tighten in a delicious way. His face was leaner now, more solemn with the years of riding in the Riddermark. He was tanned from a life spent under the sun and wind and rain and his stubble was darker than the soft, golden whiskers she remembered from her youth. Intrigued by his moustache (for she had never seen him with it before than night), she ran her fingers over it, letting them glide gently over the full bottom lip. Éomer caught her hand again, his grip strong but never painful.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his weariness creeping into his voice. “What are we doing?”

Théalyn sighed and Éomer still held on as he let their hands fall for the moment. “I’m taking care of you,” she answered plainly.

“I don’t need you to…”

“Do you want me to?” Théalyn challenged.

By all that was sacred, he did. He wanted to leave himself to her ministrations, to feel her hands move over him and take away some of the anger and fear that clung to his skin. His eyes flickered to the pool and then back to Théalyn. “Yes,” he answered in a sure voice.

“Then let me.” She went back to undressing the man that stood before her.

His mail shirt was dropped in a heavy pile next to his boots and he stood before her in only a rough linen tunic and his leather breeches. Her hands reached for the bottom of the tunic and she pulled it up and over his head, his arm moving to accommodate her. The sight of him bared before her after ten years made her stop, and again she took in the differences that were there. His muscles were firmer, and his movements more controlled. There were more scars than she remembered and she frowned at the newer wounds, focusing on one particular cut that ran from his navel to his rib in an angry red line. He hissed sharply as she touched it but he said nothing, and Théalyn continued. The laces of his breeches were loosened and she tugged the leather down his hips, not surprised that he was naked beneath and not surprised to find that he was semi-erect. She had to do this right, however, and she made her mind go from the images that she conjured, images of tanned, sweaty flesh and strong hands and hard muscles surrounding her, back to the man before her. He needed tending to first.

Éomer stepped from his breeches and Théalyn motioned for him to step into the pool. He cocked his head, an unasked question in his eyes, but he did as she wished and took the first steps into the water, sighing at the warmth that surrounded his tired muscles. As the water rippled against his chest, he groaned audibly and Théalyn smiled. Éomer sank the rest of the way into the heated pool and submerged his head, coming back up after a moment and smoothing back the mass of tawny waves and blinking water from his eyes. Soon, the sight of Théalyn came back into focus and he watched in awe as she unlaced the sides of her leather jerkin and tossed the two halves to the ground before loosening the ties of her breeches. Inch by inch, her golden skin was revealed, and Éomer felt a stirring in his groin as her hips and then the dark patch of hair between her legs was presented to him. She looked amazing in the firelight; now, in contrast to her earlier appearance by moonlight, Théalyn was like a burnished statue. Her muscles were lean and well developed, and she too sported a few scars from battle. She stepped forward over the piles of discarded clothes and armor and made her way into the water.

Théalyn shivered as she drank in the sight of Éomer, wet and glowing gently in the torchlight. He seemed to be one of the Valar to her; in fact, she had always considered Éomer her golden hero. It had been ten years, but her memories of their night together were still fresh, and she felt herself blush as she remembered the heated words, the bruising kisses, and the intense pleasure that Éomer had provided. She made sure to give him a wide berth now and she moved to the far side of the pool to where she had laid a bone comb, soap that was made from bee’s honey and lavender, and a roughly woven linen cloth. Picking up the soap and the cloth, she wetted them and then rubbed them together before she once again approached Éomer, this time watching his reaction.

He looked down at her as she neared and his palms itched to reach for her, but years of discipline as a soldier overrode his impulses and he sank to his knees again and moved to the natural ledge that was below the surface of the dark water. He sat and leaned forward as he felt Théalyn slide behind him. Her breasts pressed against the broad plane of his back and he sighed at the feeling of her touching him again. He relaxed as she began scrubbing his shoulders, ridding him of travel dirt and grime. She rinsed the cloth and lathered again, this time picking up one arm and wiping down the sensitive underside, eliciting a small chuckle from him.

“Still ticklish there, I see,” Théalyn pointed out as she rinsed that arm and started on his other.

Éomer didn’t answer, he merely smiled sleepily. Her ministrations were amazing and he realized that only with Théalyn did he feel complete. For the past ten years, he had had his share of women; in truth he thoroughly enjoyed their company, but no woman made him feel more important, more revered, and more decadent than Théalyn did.

Théalyn slid an arm over his shoulder and pressed her palm flat against his chest, pulling him back to rest against her. Her legs slid over his thighs, resting gently, and she rested her chin on his shoulder as she washed his chest and abdomen. Her lips gently brushed his neck and she blew against his ear, making him shiver. Her hands moved lower and lower, and she dragged the cloth over the tops of his thighs and behind his knees. As she moved her hands back up, she brushed the creases of his thighs, tangling her fingers gently in the thatch of hair and humming to herself. With her hands, she memorized every inch of Éomer’s body, every texture and every point that made him stiffen, sigh, or groan.

Next she dropped the square of linen on the edge of the pool and rubbed the soap between her hands. She then proceeded to wash Éomer’s hair, massaging his scalp and wrenching a very feline purr from him. She told him to rinse and she moved away only to return to him with the comb in hand. Sitting behind him again, she gently unsnarled the heavy mass of hair before her. Once it was straight and smooth, she set about braiding it the style of the men in the north. She wove the four sections together and secured the end with a length of leather cord. She set the comb behind her again and leaned back from Éomer’s body.

He turned to her in a swirl of water and gave her a half grin. He reached up and smoothed the palm of his hand down the length of the braid, surprised to feel that the end was near the middle of his back. He wasn’t aware that his hair had grown so long. He wasn’t used to wearing it off of his face and neck, and he wondered what else Théalyn had in store for him. He stared down at her, her skin now flushed, from either the hot water, the personal bath she had just administered, or perhaps both. Either way, the tops of her breasts peeked out of the water and heaved as she inhaled, and Éomer moved between her thighs and leaned behind her, plucking the linen cloth from the rocks. He palmed the soap and lathered the cloth, and reached out and ran it over Théalyn’s shoulders.

She tilted her head up and moaned softly at the touch and then tilted her head to the side as he gently washed her neck. The cloth drew circles over the tops of her breasts and then skated over the hardened nipples beneath the surface of the water before concentrating on her abdomen and lower belly. His other hand caught her thigh and squeezed, holding her steady as the linen was discarded in the water and his bare hand slid between her thighs. She gasped and caught his wrist, trying unsuccessfully to move his hand.

“Don’t,” he grunted, as green flames licked in his eyes. He felt her stiffen only slightly, and then she relaxed, letting her thighs fall apart. Éomer made a sound of approval in his throat as his fingers parted heated flesh and rubbed against the very core of her body.

She tried to fight it, tried to fight the shocks of pleasure that bolted up and down her spine. This night was supposed to be for Éomer; her needs would come later. But as Éomer’s eyes bored into hers and she saw his jaw set tightly, she knew that this was going to happen. Éomer wanted it to. She shuddered and moaned as she shifted up only slightly and felt two of Éomer’s fingers slip inside of her, massaging her inner walls. She cried out this time, the sound filtering up into the trees, and her head fell back against the rock ledge. His fingers coaxed her to the edge and did not let up. He felt her tighten, release, and then tighten harder around his fingers, and he moaned with her as her body began to shake. Only after she had cried out in her climax did he ease off, but he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, his fingers still moving gently.

“Too long,” he whispered against her lips. “I’ve been without you for too long. I’ve forgotten what this can be like.” He went to settle between her thighs but Théalyn stopped him and moved from her seat. She turned Éomer’s body around and pushed at his shoulders until he was seated again.

“Let me do this,” she whispered as she straddled his lap and took his erection in her fist. She stroked him and watched in fascination as his body strained forward and his eyes screwed shut. His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply and his hips jerked up into her hand.

“Shhh,” she soothed gently. “It will be okay, Éomer.”

His eyes opened at the sound of his name and he looked up into Théalyn’s pale gray orbs. The moon was overhead again, much like it had been the first time. “The first time we did this, I didn’t believe what you said about the moon,” he confessed. He whimpered as he felt Théalyn’s hand leave him, but she didn’t move from his lap, and instead she pressed her body into his, content with feeling him skin to skin for the time being. Her fingers stroked his jaw and his ears as she smiled.

“And what about after? When we were done and we rode back to Edoras before dawn?”

“Hmph,” Éomer grunted with a grin. “You made a boy a believer in something he had no time for.”

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Théalyn had cried out sharply when he took her and his body froze at the startled sound. He stared down at her in confusion before it quickly dawned on him that she was a virgin. She hadn’t asked him to stop, however, and Éomer tried a small movement, sliding his shaft out before pressing it back in gently. Théalyn’s body arched up and she made another noise, but this time it wasn’t in pain. It was in surprise, and her eyes shone bluer than the summer sky over the Gap of Rohan. She smiled broadly and nodded, begging Éomer to do whatever he just did again. He drew back and thrust forward again, this time with a little more force. Théalyn’s knees came about his hips and she held him as her hands grasped at his shoulders.

He had imagined what the two of them might look to someone who stumbled upon them. Both with golden skin and golden hair and long, strong limbs wrapped around each other in this moonlit embrace. Their bodies had fit perfectly together and the trees of the forest surrounded them, making them seem like they were in fact a part of the Valar. He moved within her again, and again, slowly building a rhythm to be rivaled with. Their coupling was not so sweet and tender as one may find in a wedding bed, but rather it was a prayer to the Valar and to the earth and the spirits within. It was a call to all things sacred, and as Éomer looked down into Théalyn’s face and saw the moon shining in her eyes, he felt a tremor of something more dominant than he had ever experienced.

He hissed as Théalyn angled her hips up and met him thrust for thrust. He felt the earth under his knees and crushed beneath his clawing hands and he smelled the cedar and the moss, the water and the dirt, and Éomer all at once realized that he was but a small part of Middle Earth. But here, with Théalyn, it was as if they were the only two in the world. She was all that mattered; he didn’t think of his training or of his uncle’s scolding when he ran on his impulses. He wasn’t worried about protecting his sister or making sure that Rohan remained an independent land. He saw nothing but Théalyn’s face wrought with pleasure; he felt nothing but the powerful heat that surrounded him.

Her voice had broken him from his myriad of thoughts and he gasped as she cried out his name, sharp and clear. He had no doubts that those down at the fire had heard, but he didn’t care. So what if they knew he was off in the woods making love to a woman. It was to be expected. It was to be celebrated. He sank against her body, bringing his head down level with hers, and he stole kisses from her mouth and whispered words of endearment against the sensitive skin of her neck. There he promised to be there for her and she promised the same. It was a mutual understanding between the two that there would be others over the years, but they would always come back to one another.

Satisfied with their vows to each other, Éomer braced his forearms on either side of Théalyn’s head and drove into her with a hard thrust, causing her to wail in a broken voice. She whimpered and her head whipped up to meet his eyes. There was purpose behind their movements now and Éomer hooked an arm around her lower back to hold her off of the earth and closer to his body. Her hips met his in tiny circles now and she howled in pleasure as Éomer shifted and went at her from a different angle.

The sensations Théalyn felt made her feel lightheaded; she shut her eyes and let her body move with Éomer’s. He was hard and white hot inside of her and he filled her everywhere. She panted his name again and her eyes opened in narrowed slits as she felt Éomer’s movements begin to falter. He was close to his end and her hands curled into his hair and yanked his head down so that their foreheads touched and their eyes met. Their mouths opened and gently brushed against each other in something that resembled a kiss. There was energy there, a tingling heat that formed in their chests and swelled out along their spines, down their legs, and through their fingertips. Théalyn bucked hard beneath Éomer, using her body to bring him to completion. He gave Théalyn’s body one more hard, determined thrust, and then he stilled as her legs stiffened at his hips and her internal muscles clamped down hard on his length.

Éomer cried out sharply, his mouth hovering near Théalyn’s ear, and he grunted as he spent himself inside of her. His hands grabbed at her shoulders and held her still as he felt her tremble beneath him. Her cry was short and sweet, and he looked down into her face and smiled at the warmth in her eyes.

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“Do you remember what you said to me that night?” Éomer’s voice was soft and it made his chest vibrate against Théalyn’s. She nodded as she stared into his eyes.

“I told you that when you needed me the most, I would be there for you.”

Éomer’s hands moved and brushed her hair back from her shoulders and he smoothed his palms over her face, holding her head steady as he looked at her. “How did you know? How did you know that I would need you here, on this night?”

“Éomer,” Théalyn began. She hesitated only slightly, choosing the right words. “What we shared…what we share is not something that is easily rivaled. I have had lovers since you and I may have lovers after this, but this,” she now made a gesture that referred to them, “is something that no one but you can touch.” She closed her eyes as she felt Éomer’s hands slide down her face to her throat, his fingertips dipping in the hollow of her collarbone. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss there, tasting the soap and her skin.

“You make me want to say things I have never wanted to before.” He looked back up at her and winked. “Turned this Third Marshal into something of a bard.” He laughed then and it tapered off into a sad smile. “Théodred always laughs at me when I speak of you. He says that the light in my eyes becomes intense and I am an advocate for your love and your beliefs.” He looked at Théalyn from under his dark eyebrows. “And now I know he’s right. Even when he is gone, I will know that he was right.”

Éomer’s mention of Théodred brought Théalyn’s mind back to the reason they were at this place to begin with. “Do you remember afterwards? That night we spent together…do you remember how you felt when we rode back at dawn?”

“Aye,” Éomer whispered, taking a kiss from Théalyn’s mouth once more. He couldn’t stop himself from indulging in her soft, pink lips and he loved the feel of her tongue against his. Breaking the kiss, he spoke again in a gentle voice. “When the sun rose that morning, I felt like I could take on anything. That afternoon was when I once again had to go against Gamling during my sword training. I won, you know. I fought better than I ever had before. I have ever since.” He kissed her again, and moved her body on his lap so that his erection was trapped between their bellies. He made a sound of pleasure in his throat and his hands groped at Théalyn’s backside, pulling her forward and causing her to grind against him.

“I rode better,” he continued. “I fought harder and concentrated more on the task at hand rather than following my own impulses.” He knew that he had, in fact, found perfection in himself, but he wasn’t so conceited as to say it out loud, not even to Théalyn. This was his very own secret, and he knew that she had hers as well. He looked back to her face and grew serious for a moment. “That is the Valar, then, is it not?”

Théalyn smiled, pleased the Éomer had some understanding of himself and the world around him. “What do you think?”

He grinned then. “I think it is different for all.” There was a moment of silence before he spoke once more, and his face grew solemn. “I know that there is something in the distance. To the East. I know not the details, but it is powerful and merciless." Wide green eyes searched Thealyn's face and she saw a trace of fear there as he spoke. "There is a war coming.”

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TBC