Riding Lessons

Pairing: Legolas/Éomer
Rating: PG
Feedback: Always welcome at c_rhodora@hotmail.com
Setting: Post-RotK, AU
Summary: Thranduil and his family have sailed West, leaving Legolas as the new King of Greenwood. Legolas decides that a horse trade with the King of Rohan is in order.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tolkien and New Line Cinema. No infringement or offence is intended.
Author’s Notes: This fic was written for the excellent Waters of Cuivienen fest challenge. Many thanks and praises to my beta readers, Zasjah and Panthera. This is dedicated to Dodger for putting up with me.

Part VIII. The Éadig Fields

The company left by mid-morning of the following day. Éomer informed them that it was approximately a three-hour ride to the Éadig Fields, and that they would arrive there just in time for lunch. In order to keep the company small and swift, the two Kings selected only their two best guards to accompany them, while the two princesses were attended by only one handmaiden apiece. Instead of riding in a carriage as was custom, Lady Lothíriel chose to ride a gentle chestnut mare, sidesaddle as proper etiquette dictated. Lady Aduial, who was freer in her Elvish ways, rode a fiery gray steed, bareback with only a hackamore. It amused the foursome that Lord Caedmon’s entourage composed of his squire, various attendants and guards, was larger than their combined parties put together.

“Where are the Éadig Fields?” Lady Aduial inquired as the company went on their way.

“The Fields lie to the northwest of Edoras,” Éomer explained. “They are named such because their land has remained ever fertile even through the harshest winter and in times of drought. It is believed that the land is blessed, for no other explanation suffices to explain its verdant grassland throughout the centuries. Éadig means ‘blessed’ in our tongue.”

“I have heard the people refer to you as Éomer Éadig,” Legolas remarked, glancing at the Rohan King who rode beside him.

The Horse Lord could feel a slight blush color his cheeks but before he could respond, Lothíriel answered in his stead.

“You have heard correctly,” she told the Elven King proudly. “My Lord’s rule has brought such newfound peace and prosperity to the people that many already consider his reign to be ‘blessed.’ Thus, the name Éomer Éadig was born.”

“It is fitting,” Legolas replied, giving Éomer a long look that the Horse Lord could not hold, directing his eyes on the path ahead. Both kings had not missed the possessive pronoun that had so easily slipped from Lothíriel’s lips in her explication.

Shortly before noon the company reached the top of a wide hill; where they stopped for a moment to admire the view. Below them lay the famed Éadig Fields, the lush grass indeed seemed greener and more vibrant than anywhere else, while white and golden flowers studded the verdant fields, blowing elegantly on their slender stalks. A bubbling stream wound its way through the fields with patches of trees providing ideal shade for visiting groups.

“Let us race to the camp site!” Aduial suddenly called, pointing in the direction of a particularly large clump of trees to the left of the party that lay beside the stream.

Before anyone could respond to the Elven Princess’s suggestion, Aduial had already sprinted down the hill. Lothíriel, who did not normally act upon such impulses, immediately followed suit, motioning for her handmaiden to join her. The guards looked at their lieges for a moment, uncertain whether they should follow, curbing their natural instincts to protect the princesses. A quick nod from both kings granted them permission and soon they too were in pursuit.

Echuir snorted and looked back at his master, wondering why they were not at the head of the pack, while a similar thought crossed Déor’s mind. Lord Caedmon wore a bored expression on his face, as though he thought these childish races to be beneath him. With a curt nod to his hosts, he and his party made their way down the hill at a leisurely pace.

“Another race,” Legolas stated when the two kings were quite alone on top of the hill.

“I am in no mood for that,” Éomer replied in a somewhat somber tone.

Legolas glanced at his friend and arched an inquiring eyebrow. “What then,” he said gently, “are you ‘in the mood’ for?”

The Rohan King looked at the Elf steadily for the first time all day and then said, “I would like to show you something, if you are agreeable to it.”

Legolas nodded, intrigued by the Man’s mysterious behavior and he followed as Éomer turned Déor away from the fields below.

~*~*~*~

“You have been gone for far too long,” a reproving voice said as Legolas dismounted and turned to face his displeased childhood friend. Beside him Echuir snorted, an indication of his amusement at his master’s imminent trouble.

“My dear Rûnia,” Legolas replied in his most placating tone, “I have been gone for less than an hour.”

“Forty-eight minutes,” Aduial corrected, “is still an interminable amount of time to be left in the company of that odious man.”

“I see you have not taken to Lord Caedmon’s personality,” the Elven King observed.

“It is a wonder that anyone can ‘take’ to his personality at all,” the Princess retorted.

“Then I have no doubt that you put him in his place,” Legolas continued smoothly, taking a step towards his companion and running his fingers through a lock of her fiery mane as it fell over her left shoulder.

“Your charms will not work on me today,” Aduial said coolly, even as she tilted her head to the right and exposed the white column of her ivory neck.

“I would not dream of being so presumptuous,” Legolas said humbly, resting his other hand on the princess’s slim waist and pulling her closer. Behind them Echuir snorted again, watching the pair with a keen eye.

“Where did you and Éomer disappear off to anyway?” she asked curiously, the growing relationship between her childhood companion and the King of Rohan not entirely clear in her mind.

“Éomer wished to show me a place that holds some meaning for him,” Legolas answered somewhat vaguely.

Aduial waited for her friend to continue but when he did not she let out an exasperated sigh and placed a hand on his forest green tunic. “What are your intentions towards this human?”

The Princess’s direct question made the Elven King laugh. “Rûnia,” he said with a chuckle. “Never one to beat around the bush as the humans like to say.”

“There is no point ‘beating around the bush,’” Aduial answered swiftly, “when one’s companion is equally adept at the sport. We would be beating the bush to death before anything of consequence is revealed. Furthermore,” she continued her voice rising slightly, “it is not in our nature to beat bushes. We are Elves!”

“Indeed,” Legolas agreed with a glint in his eye.

Aduial glared at him, her annoyance at being left in the tiresome company of Lord Caedmon returning full force. “Éomer?” she prompted, now crossing her arms in a gesture of impatience.

“Éomer,” the Elven King repeated soberly.

In truth, the Rohan King had taken him to a place of great meaning. It had been no more than a shady spot of circular trees mirroring a similar rock formation on the ground, reminding Legolas of another crown of trees in fair Lothlórien that also held a special meaning for him, though the trees of Rohan could not compare to the majestic mellryn of the Golden Wood. It had taken a great deal of courage for Éomer to share this place with Legolas and to reveal what had once transpired there. Though the Man had been vague about the details, the Elf had easily read between the lines and understood what had once been offered there, what had been at stake and what had been lost.

“Is he another conquest for your bed?” Aduial asked bluntly.

“You make it seem as though I keep score,” Legolas reprimanded with an arched eyebrow.

Aduial held back the cutting reply that had almost spilled from her lips. She was not being fair to her longtime friend and part-time lover, knowing first hand how thoughtful and discreet Legolas was in all his affairs, be they in the bedroom or not.

“What I meant to say,” she began again, “is that you have a penchant for taking mortals to your bed that I have never understood. You were even foolish enough to lose your heart to one of them.”

“It is fortunate then,” Legolas replied, “that I cannot lose what has already been lost.”

Aduial shook her head and sighed. “They are very different men,” she said. “He is not accustomed to our ways. Are you blind to the constraints of his society?”

“Every society,” Legolas explained, “is a system of mobility and constraint. What differs from culture to culture is the ratio of that system. Even the most rigid societies must allow for some movement, just as the most liberal cultures still have limits to what is acceptable. Do you not find it interesting,” Legolas queried, dropping his voice slightly, “that what is forbidden openly may pass undetected behind closed doors? After all, there must be a way to escape from the confines that are imposed on the individual by others.”

“And I suppose,” Aduial responded, a touch of sarcasm lacing her tone, “that you will be the agent of Éomer’s ‘escape?’”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“You must be careful, Legolas,” Aduial said seriously. “Éomer is a good man, but a wild spirit caged too long will not allow itself to be confined once it is set free. Your actions may do more harm than good.”

For a moment, a hint of doubt flickered through the Elven King’s clear blue eyes but he brushed it aside and fixed his companion with a penetrating gaze. “And what has been *your* role in my escapade?”

“My role?” Aduial repeated innocently.

“A few nights ago,” Legolas continued, “you knew that I was occupied with the Rohan King, and yet you came to look for me in his study. What were your intentions then?”

“I intended to remind you of a filthy promise that you had made to me earlier that day,” Aduial said wickedly, “and to see to it that no King of Men was going to prevent you from keeping your word.”

“A determined princess is a force to be reckoned with,” Legolas conceded with his own sly smile, “but did you know that we had an audience that night?”

“I was aware of his presence,” Aduial replied off-handedly.

“And you continued your actions?”

“Did you honestly expect me to stop?” she asked in surprise. “What good would that have done? You would have been dissatisfied, I would have been dissatisfied and Éomer,” she said, lingering on the Man’s name, “probably would have been the most dissatisfied of all.”

“Your idea of torture is exquisite,” Legolas praised, “but are you aware that we have an audience now?”

Aduial smoothed the folds of her gown, turning to her left and discreetly surveying the party that she had departed with lowered eyes. They were still seated on the picnic grounds in small groups, Éomer in between Lothíriel and his third cousin. The Princess of Dol Amroth was the paradigm of patience, suffering through Caedmon’s company with complete grace. The King of Rohan, on the other hand, did not appear to be following their conversation and instead had his eyes focused on the Elven couple who stood in the distance under the shade of a patch of trees where the horses were resting.

“So it seems,” Aduial answered when she straightened again, aware that Legolas still had his hand on her waist. There was a devious look in her eye as she snaked her arm behind his back and pulled them closer together. “What is your plan of action, my Lord?”

“Since you do not wish to be my co-conspirator,” Legolas said, now wrapping his arm around Aduial’s waist, “it is only fair to ask how *you* wish to handle the situation.”

“That is very generous of you,” Aduial replied. “Despite our audience, or perhaps in spite of our audience,” she said mischievously, “I believe a recompense is in order for abandoning me earlier.”

“And what kind of recompense do you have in mind?”

“A kiss,” the Princess said demurely, “will do for now.”

“Then it is a recompense I gladly pay,” Legolas said, brushing Aduial’s red hair behind the tip of a pointed ear and then tracing its contours until his hand came to rest on the smooth curve of her neck, finally bending down to kiss her.

~*~*~*~

Éomer picked up one of the rolls from the breadbasket and ripped it savagely in half. His cousin’s company was even more tiresome than usual but the King knew that his agitation was not caused by Caedmon alone. Above all, he was annoyed at himself. What had possessed him to show Legolas his old special place? What kind of message would that send the Elf? And now he had just witnessed a particularly affectionate scene between the two Elven nobles. It made his blood boil that they could be so publicly intimate with one another and he . . . took a large bite of his bread and began to chew. He watched as Legolas and Aduial approached their group, sharing in some secret as they walked arm in arm. It was at that moment that Éomecidecided he would have to find a way to spend some time with Legolas alone. It was not enough that Aduial would be leaving the following day; he needed to find a way to remove himself from his duties just for a little while. Or he might end up doing something rash.

The afternoon passed uneventfully and once the company felt that their lunch had been sufficiently digested, most of them took to their horses, this time with Caedmon in the lead for some games. Still feeling sullen, Éomer sat out the fun much to Déor’s supreme annoyance while Legolas and Echuir headed what eventually became a pseudo Elvish team. After a while though, Legolas joined his friend on the picnic grounds, letting Echuir roam the fields. The Elven stallion had grown tired of the games without Déor to compete with, although Caedmon’s mount, a highly spirited dark brown gelding with a personality as arrogant as his master’s, proved to be quite fierce in these supposedly harmless games. Legolas left them in the care of Aduial, who was a skilled rider herself, and her equally mischievous gray steed. Smiling as he settled beside his friend, Legolas lay down on the soft grass, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. Éomer glanced at the resting figure beside him and tried to curb his irritation. Even the Elf’s grace was maddening him this afternoon. Whereas a man would have thrown himself down on the ground to rest, Legolas had elegantly stretched himself on the earthen floor, all long limbs and careless grace like a fresh young colt. After a moment’s silence the Elf spoke.

“The afternoon light will soon fade,” he said, “and it is a three-hour ride back to Edoras. We shall have to depart soon.”

“I do not wish to return,” Éomer replied through gritted teeth.

Instead of asking ‘why’ as the Man expected, the Elf propped himself on one arm and said, “And where do you wish to go instead?”

Truthfully, Éomer had not given a destination much thought, and for a man as orderly and regimented as him that was most unusual. Anywhere, he wanted to say aloud but instead he said, “Would you come with me?”

Before Legolas could answer, Lothíriel rode up to the pair and said a little breathlessly, “As the diplomatic emissary of the group, I believe it is my place to inform you,” she said looking at the Rohan King, “that things are starting to get a little out of hand.” She glanced behind her where Aduial and Lossendir were attempting to box Caedmon in between them, thus preventing him from being able to maneuver, but Caedmon’s gelding managed to break free and the race was on again.

“It would be best,” Lothíriel continued, “if you put a stop to things. Not to mention that it is getting rather late,” she added, “and we should probably return to Edoras.”

“Precisely what I was just saying,” Legolas agreed, standing up and motioning for Lossendir and Aduial to join them.

Grudgingly, Éomer got to his feet as well and when the group had finally gathered around him he said, “Friends, it has been a most enjoyable afternoon. While I realize that some of you may still be locked in competition,” here he nodded in the direction of the Elven Princess and his cousin, “perhaps a temporary truce is called for? Furthermore, as the Lady Lothíriel has informed me, it is time to head back to Edoras.” Amid the nods and murmurs of assent, the Rohan King’s voice rang out again. “However,” Éomer continued, “Legolas and I shall *not* be returning with you.” Beside him the Elf did not flinch at this half-expected announcement. “We have decided to surprise Gimli with a visit to the Glittering Caves.”

“My Lord,” the Captain of the Guard interrupted, “it is still nearly a full day’s journey to the Glittering Caves.”

“Perhaps on an ordinary steed,” Éomer conceded, “but on our stallions in full flight we would arrive at the Glittering Caves shortly after nightfall.”

The Captain of the Guard looked unconvinced. He did not doubt the swiftness of the stallions, but believed it would be unwise to let his liege travel to the Glittering Caves unescorted.

Reading his Captain’s mind, Éomer walked towards him and placed a hand on the neck of his steed. “Heardred,” he said in their own tongue, “these lands are well-protected. Legolas and I will be quite safe. No foul creatures would be able to catch us, and neither would your fine mount be able to keep pace with us. Return to Edoras and see to it that no harm comes to the two Princesses. You may send an escort to the Glittering Caves first thing in the morning to ease your mind.”

Heardred nodded in acquiescence and though he would have preferred that his liege return to Edoras with him and set out in the morning for the Glittering Caves, he held his tongue. He had seen his lord in this determined manner before and knew that nothing would sway him.

Éomer then went to Aduial, who was massaging the neck of her gray steed, easing the tense muscles that she found there.

“Lady Aduial,” he said sincerely, “please forgive my behavior this afternoon and my absence for your departure tomorrow. I hope you have enjoyed your short stay in our land and you will always be welcome to return any time you wish.”

“Lord Éomer,” Aduial replied with a warm smile, “there is nothing to forgive. You have been the most generous of hosts, reflecting only the best qualities of your people. It is I who should thank you,” she added, “for taking me in so unexpectedly. And I believe,” she continued in a lower, almost conspiratorial tone, “that Legolas will be able to help you in whatever matter was troubling you today.”

The Man detected an underlying meaning in the Princess’s words that he did not understand and he looked at her strangely as he nodded his head in recognition of her words.

When everyone was prepared to depart, the two Kings called for their stallions. Déor was the first to appear, restless and eager to be off, not having participated in the afternoon games. But when Echuir did nopearpear as was expected, Legolas grew uneasy. He let out the haunting whistle that Éomer had heard the night he had first encountered the black stallion and then waited patiently for the familiar sound of pounding hooves. Legolas’ keen eyes scanned the rolling fields until he saw in the distance the Elven stallion galloping towards them from the left plain, and unless he was mistaken, there was a figure on the animal’s back.

The company watched as the stallion drew near, curious to see who the unknown rider was. As Echuir came to a halt before his Elven master, Lord Caedmon exploded.

“Wilhelm!” he cried. “Where have you been? And what do you think you are doing with that beast?”

Legolas did not know the relationship between Caedmon and the young lad who he estimated was between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, but he was immediately aware of something that the Man was oblivious to, and that was Echuir had allowed a complete stranger on his back.

Wilhelm slid off Echuir’s sleek back and bowed before the nobleman, apologizing as he did so. Caedmon did not appear to be appeased but before he could say anything – Legolas intervened.

“Who are you?” he asked the young man.

“My name is Wilhelm, son of Weostan,” the boy replied.

“He is my squire,” Caedmon added derisively, “who has been neglecting his duties.”

Wilhelm bowed his head again, but Legolas got the impression that it was not to show his anger disguised as an act of penitence. The Elf ignored the irate Lord and continued to question the young man.

“How old are you, Wilhelm?”

“Seventeen.”

“And how did you come across this stallion?”

“He approached me,” the boy explained, surprised at his own answer. “I was by the stream refilling the water skins when he came to have a drink. He nudged me with his muzzle as though he wished to show me something. I was not thinking when I mounted him. Please forgive me. I did not mean to steal him.”

Legolas almost laughed aloud at the thought. As if Echuir would let anyone ‘steal’ him. Caedmon had remained silent during the boy’s explanation, understanding for the first time what the implications of the boy’s words were. He glanced sideways at his cousin who was also looking at the squire with a strange light in his eyes.

“You are forgiven,” the Elven King told the lad. “Echuir is quite particular when it comes to making friends.”

“Off with you now,” Caedmon said harshly. “We are returning to Edoras and you have not yet packed.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Wilhelm said respectfully before running off to collect his belongings.

Legolas watched the boy go with a thoughtful eye. “nusunusual choice, Echuir,” he whispered in their dialect. “Let us see what the boy has to offer.”

tbc...