Rider of the Mark

Rider of the Mark 26

You can't catch me, cuz the rabbit done...done what?

***

Aefre was adamant she didn't need a healer.

She needed peace and relaxation and she didn't need an invalid Rider looming over her demanding she do this and that.

"Invalid?" Gamling roared. "Look here, you-" He stopped suddenly, finger thrust in her face, his features as furious as hers. He dropped his hand, shoulders. "Aefre, please," he pleaded. "You've been on edge and overworked for over two months. You've taken care of me for eleven... twelve days. You've taken care of everyone else for how long?" He reached out, grasping her hand and pulled her to him. "Take care of yourself for once. See the healer for me. If you need rest, she'll tell you." Gingerly, he pulled her into his embrace. She stiffened, gasping for air. "Aefre?"

"It's alright." Aefre stepped back a little, her hand slowly massaging her breast. "I think I have pulled a muscle. I've been sore for over a week now." she admitted sheepishly. "Maybe I should see the healer. Maybe she'll have something to help me that I don't know about."

Aefre didn't return that morning. Gamling napped here and there, sleeping less now that he wasn't taking drugged teas and broths... healing in truth finally. When lunch came and went and there was still no Aefre, Gamling rummaged through his wardrobe, taking note of the clean, repaired and new -

***Where did this come from? This is a different cut... different length... Béma! BLUE???? BLUE??? I don't wear blue...***

- clothing, before grabbing a pair of leggings and a loose red tunic. He was winded twice, getting the leggings on, but once he actually got them up around his waist, he managed to lace them up securely. He threw on his shirt, wincing as he pulled it over his head and didn't bother with the neck or wrist ties. Warily, he opened the door and slowly made his way into the Great Hall, acknowledging the over-bright and knowing smiles as he passed. He found his mother with another older woman, marking a large bolt of fine green wool with a piece of chalk.

"I see you've found your clothes." She didn't look up.

Gamling grunted in acknowledgment. His mother raised an eyebrow at the lack of answer, but tallied it to prolonged illness.

"Aelwydd? Will this be long enough?" the other seamstress asked.

"Let me see. Gamling! Hold still." She grabbed the cloth and proceeded to drape it around Gamling's shoulders and neck, allowing the rest to fall about the floor. "Don't stand there... hold it!"

Obeying her was automatic. Gamling's hands moved to hold the fabric at his throat. "Who is this for?"

"You."

"Me?" He removed the cloth from his shoulders and turned to see his mother talking to the other seamstress, making note of the fall. "I don't need a new cloak! The one I have is fine!"

The two elderly women glanced at each other, Aelwydd still holding her thumb on the cloth where she had mentally marked it. She placed it on the table, her thumb still in place. "Mark here, Helgarda. Yes, Gamling, you do."

Arguing with his mother was a lost cause. He had learned that lesson well at an early age. There was many a memory of him and his father, sneaking off to the river to fish or go out into the fields to watch the herds when she got into one of her moods.

"Fine. Did Aefre see the healer this morning?"

The two women looked at each other again, one coloring, the other shrugging before continuing to lay out the fabric and marking the remaining edges. "Aye," the seamstress finally answered. "She saw me."

Gamling waited for a minute. Waiting...

"And?"

His mother continued working, her back to him. "And what?"

Standing was becoming painful. He sat down on the bench. "And what is wrong?"

"Well, I don't know, Gamling. I wasn't there." His mother continued to calmly mark the cloth. "Why don't you go find Aefre and ask her?"

***Ask her? Ask who? Aefre? The Healer??? Say hello to my mother, Mistress at speaking in circles!***

"If you saw her-"

"You should talk to her, m'lord." The healer/seamstress never looked up.

Gamling was trying not to breathe hard - his side was on fire and the pain was almost nauseating. Maybe standing was better. "Fine. Mother," he pulled himself up, "do you know where she might be?"

"I am not - cut a little wider there, Helgarda. I want to make sure there is plenty of room - your lady's keeper."

***Thank you much, mother. You are no help!***

"Can you give me a hint? Kitchens? Her room?" An apple and carrot materialized at his elbow, a giant hand clamping him on the shoulder.

"Maybe the stable, Gamling." His mother still hadn't looked up. Gamling looked over his shoulder to see Willan foolishly grinning at him, nodding towards the stables.

"Thank you," he replied to both, taking the equine treats offered.

He managed two steps before his mother called out, "Don't you think you should at least put on your boots? Walking barefoot in the stables is a dangerous thing."

***My boots? My boots are up in my rooms, ‘twill take me forever to get there, longer to put them on and Béma knows how long to get back! It will hurt and I'll be tired and will probably have to lie down and dammitdammit I'm sick of being an invalid and tired and sore...***

"I've walked barefoot in the stables before, Mother."

Aelwydd waited until he had gone through the doors, obviously leaving through the kitchens. "Aye, he has," she confided to Helgarda. "Steps in horse shite, every time!"

Gamling went through the kitchens, the cook nodding profusely at his presence, the serving women and assistants giggling. "Glad to see you found your clothing, sir." The cook had a large boar turning slowly on a spit over an open fire and his mouth watered at the smell.

***Enough broth! I'm a man! I need food! Real food...***

"Is that for the evening meal?"

"Aye." The large woman was lording over a kettle of slow cooking green beans, dropping bits of pork fat into it. "I take it you're tired of sickroom fare? I'll make sure you get a good cut from the loin, m'lord. Good t'see you up and about," she stirred once, "and properly clothed."

Gamling snarled to himself, grabbed an apple tart, ducking the cook's slapping hand, before making his way through the outer kitchens and into the yard, chickens clucking and fussing as he walked over the path, watching for droppings and -

***ouchouchouchouchowowowowow***

- rocks and stones. He licked the final crumbs of the tart from his fingers and picked his way to the stables, the yard, to see Haleth hanging on the fence, a large chestnut -

***Dréogan? What's Dréogan-***

- trotting obstinately, ears back, around the corral. He limped up stiffly, Adenydd was in an adjoining outdoor pen and Aefre was in the corral with *his* war destrier - HIS stallion - that wouldn't let anyone saddle him, much less harness him, on a long lead tether. She was carrying a long-handled whip.

"Hi-yah!" Aefre cracked the long whip, flicking the dust right behind his rear hooves. Dréogan kicked up a notch in his trot, clearly not happy, tossing his mane with an angry snort.

****Not happy, but obeying. You're a well-trained horse, Dréogan, and she's not bad either.***

Tapping Haleth lightly on the shoulder, he motioned for the boy to open the gate and waited until Dréogan passed it before moving into the center of the ring. Her back was to him as she turned and she jumped slightly when he tapped her on the shoulder and took the lead with his good hand.

Aefre stopped back, acquiescing, and handing him the whip. "He's not broken a sweat yet."

"He will." Gamling whistled sharply, Dréogan immediately recognizing the voice of his Rider. His head and ears went up and for thirty minutes he obeyed Gamling's whistled and one worded comments, not stopping until the horse was in a fine, beaded sweat. "Have you lunged Adenydd?" Gamling slowed his mount into a cooling- off walk.

"Aye. She was first." Aefre hesitated for a moment. "May I put her in Dréogan's stall for a short time? I want to pick hers."

Gamling nodded, carefully watching the gait of his horse. "Hmm hmm... strange..." He joined Aefre in the barn, ten minutes later, moving slowly. Working Dréogan had been as much of a workout for him as well as his horse. He was exhausted and he didn't know if he was going to be able to stay awake long enough for the pork loin the cook had promised him. Adenydd had her head hanging over Dréogan's stall door, looking for her friend. He gave her the carrot tucked in his waistband. "Sorry, girl. Dréogan was about to lose a shoe and I had Haleth take him to see Cynn." He scratched her nose. "He'll be down soon enough." He made his way to Adenydd's stall, side stepping a large horse dropping,

***Oh, that would be nasty! Mother would never let me live it down***

The stall door was open and for several minutes, he watched as Aefre picked and cleaned her horse's stall; quick, efficient movements, pitching chips into the muck bucket. Her hair was lashed back haphazardly, a few tendrils escaping, framing her face in sweaty ringlets, her skirts tied up at her thighs. She had her back to him.

"Aefre? Did you see the healer?"

"Yes." She shoved the pick into the sawdust a bit on the hard side.

"And what did she say?"

Aefre's breath was labored from the hard work, her shoulders set. "She said I'm as healthy as my horse."

Gamling came into the stall, mindful of the picked through shavings. "Then why are you sick?"

"I'm fine."

"Puking your guts is NOT fine! Maybe you should see another healer?"

Aefre stopped picking and dropped her head. She looked once at him, woefully, and Gamling almost stepped back at the confusion in the stare. She dropped her head. "I'moneoftheblessed." she mumbled.

Gamling made his way further into the stall, still mindful of the chips. "What?"

"I said," she spat tersely, "I am one of the Blessed!"

Gamling scratched his head.

***Crazy woman! Been hanging out with my mother too much! Blessed? Blessed Béma, what in Arda are you talking about?***

"Aefre, I'm confused. One of the Blessed... What do-"

She spun, shavings flying, tears welling. "One of the Blessed... meaning one who conceived right about the time the Eorlings rode to Gondor!"

Gamling blinked "One... who conceived..."

"Béma help us all!" She threw her hands on her hips. "I'm pregnant, Gamling!"

The air was still, no sound...

"You're pregnant? We're going to have a baby?"

"Well, that's what pregnant means!" Tears that had been threatening finally spilled over. "I'm... pregnant and I don't know what to do!"

Gamling reached over and enveloped her in a bear hug, stepping in a horse pile and caring less. "It's all right, Aefre-"

"No, it's not all right!" She stamped once petulantly, punctuating the word ‘not'. "I don't know what to do! I'm old-"

He pulled the sobbing woman in tighter. "If you're old, I'm ancient."

"That's the point, Gamling!" She thrust back, breaking free of his hold. "We are getting a late start. Most parents our age; their children are near grown!" She turned her back on him, arms crossed, shoulders heaving, addressing the cobwebs in the rafters of the barn. "Do you know what scares me the most?" she continued on in a rush, not waiting for him to answer. "How little I know you. I've spent days talking... nay... listening to your mother tell me of you, your childhood, your family. I cannot... connect," her hands were in an empty, nervous stranglehold of the air above her head, "in my mind, the impish, playful, laughing boy she told me about, with the stoic, serious, bullheaded man I love! I don't know you and I'm going to have your baby!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "We happened too fast. This happened too fast. All those years... I tried... I had given up... ever... and now..." She leaned forward, head lightly smacking the stall fencing. "So many... years... I don't know..." Sobs she had been holding back broke free, open. "Dammit! I've... I've... never cried so much in ... my... life!" From nowhere, arms stole around her, turning her around, and pulling her into a strong - if well bandaged chest. "I'm scared... and I'm happy... and I'm worried..."

***That makes two of us. We are well matched...***

"Do you love me?"

"YESSSSSS!" Aefre wailed.

"Then we'll be fine."

Aefre finally looked up, red-eyed and splotched eyes still teary...

***AAAAACK!***

"Gamling?"

"Hmm hmm?"

"You're barefoot and you've stepped in horse shite."

Self consciously, he began to rub his foot in the sawdust. "Yes."

Aefre was turning pale. "I need some air. I think I'm going to be sick..." She pulled away from him, running to the barn doors and not making it.

"Aim for the muck pile." Gamling offered gamely. Stiffly, he turned, scraping his foot as he limped along. He patted her on the back as he passed her. "Good girl."

"Ath-hole." she muttered between retches.

"Yes, I have one."

"It's your fault."

***Wait... I thought there were two of us that night...***

He returned a few minutes later, holding a water dipper, and began to stroke her hair back. "Done?"

"I think so." Aefre was gulping huge breaths of air.

"Come on." He took her by the elbow. "Let's get you outside where the air is not so enclosed." He pulled her through the stable door. "Drink." He handed her the water dipper from the well.

Gratefully, Aefre took it, rinsing out her mouth. "The healer said I've been ignoring symptoms for weeks, and this shouldn't last much longer."

***Béma! I hope not! This is damned bothersome!***

Aefre finished rinsing her mouth, finally swallowing a few sips and handing the dipper back to him. "Thank you." She was wan, pale, looked exhausted and it worried Gamling to no end. She turned back towards the barn. "I need to put Adenydd-"

"No." Gamling took her again by the elbow. "Haleth will be here shortly with Dréogan, and I'll have him do it."

***And I have to wash my foot anyway...***

"You go up to our rooms," He didn't pay attention to Aefre's surprised look, "and I'll have the kitchen send up a light repast."

"Gamling! I'm not hungry. I'm afraid to-"

"You need," he tightened his grip slightly for emphasis, "to eat. Something. Anything. I'll ask the healer to suggest something." He smirked, Aefre seeing the ghost of the small child his mother spoke fondly of. "You can have my broth! I don't need it anymore." He tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. "Go on. I'll be up shortly." Gamling watched as she started towards the Hall, taking care not to go through the kitchens, waiting for her to go around the front and out of sight, before he sank in utter exhaustion onto the stool outside the barn door.

***babybabybabyohmyBéma!babybrowneyesbabytemperohmybaby...***

Haleth finally arrived with Dréogan, his hoof reshod. He had the boy move Adenydd to her stall and gave specific instructions on graining both stallion and mare. As he made his way to the kitchens, he stopped in the outer lying herb garden. It was his lucky day - the healer was tending the plants and after a few subtly put questions, he managed to wrest from her a bland menu for Aefre during her pregnancy. He then made his way into the kitchens, to ensure the promised pork loin was sent to his chambers as well as the unseasoned meal for Aefre. If his journey from Aefre's room to his the night before had been arduous, this one wasn't much better. His side ached, burned even; and breathing was difficult with the tight binding. By the time he reached his... their... rooms, he was spent. As he had the night before, he slid into the room, the afternoon light streaming through the window. Aefre was lying on the bed, wearing-

***my tunic? Béma! Why is she wearing my clothes?***

- a faded shirt obviously too large, too big, draping her frame. "Aefre?"

"Hmm hmm? I'm... awake..."

***Just barely***

He tossed a green throw from the foot of the bed, realizing as it fluttered over her, it was his cloak. A thought occurred to him..."Aefre?"

"Hmmm?"

"Does anyone know besides the Healer and us?"

Her eyes opened to slits. "Your mother. I asked her not to ... tell..."

***Might as well have clanged the bells and proclaimed it from the roof...***

The sun was going down, the room darkening, Gamling not caring one whit as he sat in the ghostly pale light of the rising moon.

***ababybabybabybaby Horse Lordlet or Shield Toddler crawling around my feet, calling my name, my hair, her hair, her eyes.... brownbrowneyes, temper? Hers? Mine? OhBémaboth, demanding Mearas rides... and pulling on Dréogan's mane and tail...***

So engrossed in his thoughts, he didn't hear the door open. Two napkin covered trenchers were quietly slid on the table, the succulent smell of roast pork rising in the air.

"Want to talk?"

"No, Mother."

She settled down in the chair anyway, across from him. "Need to talk?"

"Yes." Gamling edged the table closer and pulled the napkin from the trenchers. "Vegetables? Fruit?"

"For Aefre, if she wakes." Aelwydd shrugged. "I'd let her sleep."

Gamling turned the tray, the pork loin now in front of him. Withdrawing his eating dagger from its sheath at his belt, he proceeded-

***foodfoodfoodooooooooood realfood not piddling broth...***

- to cut into the meat. "She works too hard." The equivalent of three bites went into his mouth.

His mother watched him with concern. "You haven't changed a bit." she mumbled. "You still shovel your food as if you are on campaign."

Gamling appeared to pay her no heed, simply continued to inhale the food, keeping a watchful eye on Aefre, much as she had watched him in the days before. He finally swallowed the last piece. "You are making me a Rider's Wedding Cloak."

"Aye."

He laid his knife down with an angry clatter. "You presume much."

Aelwydd's eyes glittered in the moonlight. "I presume the obvious. Do you question your feelings?"

Gamling's teeth were clenched.

***I showed my arse to half the staff of Edoras the other night looking for her. Question my feelings...***

"No."

"You can't honestly think she questions hers! I've watched her worry for you this past week; to the point where she made herself ill-"

"She's pregnant!" Gamling's jaw was still clenched.

"I know she's pregnant and I understand her desire not to say anything yet. But Béma, Gamling! She's going to start showing soon! Bah!" Gamling heard her rise and bustle around the moonlit room. "I'm old and refuse to whisper in the dark!" There was the sound of stone on stone, a small oil lamp with feeble light, lit. "There! That's much bett-... Gamling?" His mother turned to see her son slouched in the chair, his forehead propped in his hand, eyes closed in thought. "It's overwhelming, isn't it?"

"Aye." He took a cleansing breath before opening his eyes and looking up at his mother. "She said it's too fast, too soon."

"Gamling, the two of you aren't getting any younger."

He hrmmphed. "She said that as well."

"Did she now?" Aelwydd settled back down in the chair. "I like your lady more and more each passing moment."

**You should. You're just alike. Béma! I've fallen in love with my mother... EEEEEEEEEWWWWW!***

"At this moment, Aefre is scared. She's tired, worn-out, over-worked. And over-whelmed." It was quiet for a moment. "So am I." Gamling pursed his lips, an old habit reminiscent of his father. "Don't mention her pregnancy. We both need to come to terms with it. As for marriage..." Again he hesitated, picking, choosing words, "say nothing. We'll deal with that in due time."

His mother stood up, stacking the trenchers. "She should return to her own room, Gamling. People talk. It was one thing when you were injured, but you are healing, moving up and about."

His forehead had returned to the crook of his fingers.

***That's her decision. I won't ask her to leave. I don't want her to leave.***

"Let them."

"If you gave a warg's arse what people thought, you would still be in her rooms, buck naked, waiting for clothes." She chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "Ah, me. There's an old saying-"

***Lovely. She's full of old sayings. Probably because she invented each and every one...***

"-First babies come anytime. All others take nine months." She smoothed the hair from his head. "I recall very clearly the wintry morning the midwife laid you in my arms, forty-seven summers ago. No matter how big you get-"

***BLRG! Here it comes...***

"- I'll always see that-"

***scowled up face***

"-scowled up face. Get some rest, son. You're going to need it."

He didn't hear the door open and shut, just sat and stared in the darkness, mind reeling, churning,

***BémaBémababybabybabybabybabybabybabybabyba-***

-finally giving up. He stripped down to nothing but his bound and bandaged chest, crawling under the cloak with Aefre. He curled into her, pulling her back, her thighs and that delectable curve of flesh into the warmth of him...

... his hand snaking protectively over her stomach.

***
tbc
***

Juliette: In all honesty, Gamling's mother is one of my favorite characters.

Seansbeanie - Did I answer the question?

Crye for me - well, he didn't shit bricks, but he sure stepped in it!

Pandorag - I'm glad.

Additional note: I spent Labor Day weekend at Dragoncon. In fact the majority of this chapter was written out in the 8th floor hall of the Hyatt between 1 and 3 AM, as I had 2 horrific asthma attacks and was breathing so loudly, I was afraid of waking my son and roomies.

Bruce was there and it seems as if SOMEONE gave him the first 24 chapters of Rider at the Fellowship Festival the weekend before. According to him, he had read up to 'the' chapter. He told a friend of mine, he was enjoying it, very much.

Oh shit. The man is reading my SMUT!

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