The Greenwater

A/N: Just a short chapter here...with the holidays coming up and whatnot, I can't be certain how often I'll update, but pleez be patient with me!!!

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“Get up, you useless whelp!” Gamling’s shout sounded through Éomer’s room as he burst through the door.

The younger Horse Lord shot up instantly and looked to the window. The sky was just beginning to show the first signs of a new day. A hand fell to the spot beside him and he smiled to himself as he felt the smooth, warm skin of Théalyn’s back. He moved his body so that Gamling might not see her right away and he ran a hand back through his hair before speaking to the elder Horse Lord.

“And good morning to you, Gamling,” Éomer grunted, pulling the furs up further around his hips. “What has befallen that has made you barge in here so recklessly?”

Gamling scowled at the hoarse whisper Éomer spoke in and his eyes widened as he suddenly realized that his young charge might not be alone in his bed. Smirking, Gamling tiptoed backwards towards the door. “I’ll leave you two to…gather your wits.” He winked and made to turn.

“The least you could do is tell him why you’ve interrupted us,” a voice floated up from the side of Éomer’s bed that Gamling couldn’t see.

Gamling looked over his shoulder to see Théalyn sitting up, holding Éomer’s cloak to cover her nakedness. She used Éomer’s body for a shield and she caught Gamling’s eyes from over a broad shoulder.

The older Horse Lord cleared his throat and bowed shortly, but a look of distaste flickered on his features. “I’m sorry, My Lady,” he said roughly. He turned to Éomer once more, trying to ignore the presence of the Eraddnian. “Gandalf is leaving for Minas Tirith with the Halfling, Master Took.”

“What?” Théalyn asked with wide eyes as she knelt behind Éomer.

Gamling looked to the Eraddnian for a moment and then back to Éomer. “He’s looked into the Palantir that Gandalf found at Isenguard.” His face was drawn and his eyes grew dark. “Sauron thinks he possesses the One Ring.”

Théalyn closed her eyes briefly at the news and then looked to Éomer. The lines in his forehead and the frown on his lips told her that he was processing this information. Finally, he looked back to Gamling. “Has my uncle called council?”

Gamling nodded. “Aye. He has requested that…both of you attend.” He frowned and turned on his heel. Without another word he slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Éomer glanced over his shoulder to where Théalyn was perched. He smiled at her and tipped his head to kiss her. Her lips curved up under his and she bit his bottom lip sharply. He yelped and pulled back, staring at her with questioning eyes.

Théalyn was already climbing out of bed. Over her shoulder she spoke to him. “If you start now, we’ll never get to the Great Hall,” she teased as she wrapped Éomer’s cloak around her shoulders. She was about to stand when Éomer’s hands snagged the cloak and pulled it off of her.

“Let me see you,” he begged, whipping the green wool away and pushing it to the opposite side of the bed.

Raising an eyebrow, Théalyn glanced at Éomer out of the corner of her eye. “Haven’t had your fill yet, Master Horse Lord?”

He shook his head and grinned. “I will never have my fill of you, Théalyn.”

She turned her body fully to him then and reached her hand out and cupped his chin. Her thumb stroked his jaw for a moment and then traced his bottom lip. He caught the digit in his mouth and sucked gently, swirling his tongue around it. A moment later he released it and he took up the hand in his own. He kissed her palm and shifted back as she crawled to her knees and stretched forward, circling her arms about his shoulders.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” she asked with a half smile. She sighed as his arms wrapped around her waist. He pulled her to him and nuzzled her neck for a moment.

“I have never said anything to you that I did not mean,” he admitted. “I want to marry you.” He looked back up at her.

A tiny gasp escaped her as she saw how his eyes had softened in the morning light. They were green and gold and Théalyn swore she could see all of his emotions in those depths. He continued to speak.

“I watched you ride out of my life ten years ago. I would never have admitted it, but my heart broke that morning. If Théodred were alive today, he would tell you that I was in a mood for a week after.”

Théalyn bit her lip and she peeked at Éomer from under her lashes. “I cried the whole way home,” she said softly. She closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. “I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”

Éomer’s heart swelled and his hands cupped her face, tilting it towards his. He pressed his forehead to hers and she opened her eyes. “Then say yes and kiss me, Théalyn. I love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered hotly, even as emotion constricted her throat. “By the Valar, I do love you Éomer.” Her lips slid across his and she sighed. “Yes. We have your uncle’s blessing. I will marry you.”

Éomer raised a dark eyebrow at this information. “Oh, we do now, do we?” he asked, referring to his uncle’s blessing. He tucked his head into her neck and nibbled the flesh there, making her squirm and giggle. “And how do you know that?”

“That is where I went last night,” she stated, smiling as Éomer’s lips traced over her shoulder. “I wanted to know…” she closed her eyes as Éomer’s mouth traveled further down and latched onto her nipple, sucking it gently. She shivered and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Wanted to know that your asking was not in vain,” she said thickly.

“Mmm hmmm,” Éomer mused, not really interested in talking anymore.

“Éomer, really!” Théalyn said with mock astonishment. She swatted at his shoulder and shoved him off. “I have to ride a horse at some point today and I do not wish to be numb from the waist down!”

“Then I’ll be gentle,” he offered, pushing against Théalyn in an attempt to get her on her back.

She yelped then and tore out of his grasp, getting to her feet and twirling away from his searching hands. “Back!” She hissed as her foot danced over his forgotten sword belt. She laughed triumphantly and crouched down. “You have yet to show me that you can be gentle!” Drawing the blade from its sheath, she stood smoothly and stood before Éomer in her wrist gauntlets and nothing else but a smile.

He grinned at the tip of his sword as Théalyn waved it under his nose. Focusing on her face once more, he spoke. “I shall show you on our wedding night.” He moved like lightening then and caught Théalyn’s wrist, twisting it just enough so that she would drop the sword. Her eyes searched his and she grunted in surprise as Éomer unarmed her. His sword fell with a clatter.

“Well then,” the Horse Lord said softly. “Seems that I have you at a disadvantage now.” One eyebrow curled up in question and Théalyn screeched as Éomer lunged for her. She dodged out of the way but he was on his feet and chasing her in no time.

“Éomer! We have to be at council any minute now! Do you really want Gamling to come back in here?”

He shook his head. “I don’t like to share.”

Théalyn cocked her head to the side and somewhat frowned. “Éomer…my love…we can’t. Not right now. There are people in the hall that are expecting us. It will be obvious enough when we arrive together, but if we arrive late…”

“If we arrive late, then I will take the blame.”

Théalyn shook her head at Éomer’s interruption. “Then you can take the blame for being the only one late. I’m going now.”

Éomer scowled and pouted. To Théalyn he looked very much like the eleven year old boy she had first met. “Fine,” he said shortly, dropping Théalyn’s hands without a second thought. “But don’t think you’ve gotten off so easily.” He walked to the wardrobe on the far wall and swung the doors wide, perusing the array of tunics and breeches there. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Théalyn holding the broken laces of her bodice in one hand while the other clutched the fabric closed over her breasts.

“I don’t know how I’m going to explain this one to Éowyn,” Théalyn muttered as she pulled her breeches up. She looked back up to Éomer. “Get dressed,” she chuckled as she eyed his naked backside once more. “I’ll meet you at the kitchen doors.”

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“How nice of you to join us,” Gamling huffed as Éomer slid beside him against the wall outside of the Golden Hall.

“You’re lucky I came at all,” Éomer countered as he tugged at the sleeves of his over tunic.

Gamling turned to Éomer then and grabbed a hold of the front of his tunic, hauling the younger Horse Lord forward and looking him dead in the eye. “This is exactly why she is no good for you. Your brain isn’t where it’s supposed to be.”

Éomer’s blood boiled to the surface and he shoved Gamling hard, making the older man stumble backwards into a small group of Rohirrim. They stopped talking as Gamling crashed into them and voices protested as hands reached to steady the man. Gamling shook them off and stalked forward towards Éomer. The company outside of the hall had fallen silent. Eyes looked from Éomer to Gamling, and then back to Éomer, waiting for an explanation.

“You do not speak of her,” Éomer said coolly, his nostrils flared with anger.

“Then cast her from your mind!” Gamling roared. “You are the First Marshal now! There is a war coming, whelp. We need you here – your uncle needs you! Do not throw our chances of victory away on an orphaned, disobedient woman!”

Huffing in anger, Éomer wrenched Gamling’s hands from his clothing and grappled onto the older Horse Lord’s arms, turning him and slamming him back into the wall they had once leaned on. Éomer’s eyes nailed Gamling in place; they were cold and unwavering. His nostrils flared and he spoke evenly through clenched teeth:

“You know nothing of what that woman has been through!” Éomer took another breath and watched as Gamling’s once steady gaze faltered. The First Marshal continued. “She is the only one of her kind left fighting. She watched her family sail away; she is alone in this world and yet she fights for the future of men.”

“Éomer.”

The young Horse Lord turned at his name to find Théalyn standing at the end of the hall. She was dressed in the dark clothes of a Ranger and her cloak was pinned neatly at her throat. The flaxen waterfall that was her hair had been painstakingly braided once more and she looked very much ready for battle. Her sword rested at her hip but her hand hovered above it and flexed, itching to grasp the cool handle in the morning light.

She moved forward then and her soft, doe-skin boots were silent as she crossed the stone steps to where Gamling was shoved against the wall. Éomer moved aside and watched Théalyn approach the elder solider. Her gray eyes met Gamling’s blue ones and for a moment she said nothing, merely stared at the man with a stony face. A ghost of a smile passed over Théalyn’s mouth then and she arched an eyebrow at Gamling.

“You seem to think that I am not a warrior just because I am a woman.”

Gamling nodded and swallowed. He pushed himself from the wall and stood straight, but even at that he noticed that Théalyn was not much shorter than he. He steadied his breathing and waited for the Eraddnian to continue.

“My mother was fighting orcs while you were still in swaddling clothes.” She cocked her head to the side then. “I watched from my harness that was strapped to her back.” Her hand moved then and she drew her sword in a single, flawless motion. The metal sang in the stillness of the hall. Her eyes narrowed. “I was born with this sword in my hand, Gamling. It will take more than a soldier with a bruised ego to pry it from me.”

Gamling snorted then. “Is that a challenge?”

“Will it shut your lying mouth?”

A murmur of voices floated up from the surrounding crowd of Rohirrim and Gamling licked his lips and a cocky look spread across his features. He was about to answer when the double doors of the Great Hall suddenly swung open, revealing a young herald.

The youth’s eyes shifted nervously from Gamling to the woman holding the sword, and then to the Lord Éomer. “Th…the King is waiting, My Lord,” the herald addressed Éomer. He looked once more at Gamling and Théalyn and then turned on his heel and went back through the doors.

Gamling watched the herald leave before he turned back to Théalyn. “This is not over, Eraddnian. I will not forget your challenge.” His blue eyes flickered to Éomer. “I ask your leave, My Lord,” he said with a cool tone. “The King awaits the Rohirrim. We wait for our leader.”

Éomer’s jaw ticked with anger. He passed a look of apology to Théalyn before turning to his men. “Speak nothing of what has happened here. Gamling and Théalyn will work out their differences.” He glanced back over his shoulder to the two in question. “For the sake of Middle Earth, I hope that my words are not false.”

Gamling gave Éomer a short nod and Théalyn said nothing. The First Marshal took his place at the head of the Rohirrim. The company moved forward through the towering doorway and Gamling sidled in beside Théalyn before her feet crossed the threshold. He caught her elbow and hauled her back, away from the doorway. Swinging her around, he smiled broadly at her flashing gray eyes.

“Meet me at the steps of the beacon lookout an hour after lunch. Bring your sword – I hope for your sake it is as sharp as your tongue.”

Théalyn inclined her head in an informal bow. “I look forward to it, Lord Gamling.” She yanked free of Gamling’s hold and stepped through the doorway into the Golden Hall.

Éomer and the Rohirrim had taken their rightful place at the foot of the dais where Théoden’s throne sat. The King himself stood on the lower steps, conversing with Aragorn and Gandalf in hushed voices. He looked up briefly and saw Théalyn enter, and then he frowned as he saw a troubled look pass over her brow. He looked to Éomer who shifted uncomfortably and looked anywhere but at Théalyn. Something was amiss between the two. Gamling entered shortly after Théalyn, his mouth set in a grim line. Slowly, the King began to piece together what might have happened. He finished his words with Aragorn and the wizard and turned to the hall and the company therein.

Théalyn waited until Théoden had addressed the crowd before moving to the far side of the room to stand with Éowyn. The young woman smiled warmly at the Eraddnian and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in Théalyn’s ear.

“Uncle says that you and Éomer are to marry.”

Théalyn’s eyes were trained on Théoden but she heard Éowyn perfectly. She nodded once to answer the question and Éomer’s sister continued.

“Gamling seems agitated.”

“Hmm,” was all Théalyn could muster. She looked briefly at Éowyn. “I don’t think he likes me.”

“I don’t think he likes anyone.” Éowyn paused a moment and thought about it. “Except for maybe his horse.”

Théalyn grinned and looked back to Théoden to hear his speech.

“The battle for Middle Earth has been joined. Saruman the White has been defeated, but now our enemies attack from Mordor.”

“What of Gondor and the White City?” A voice from the crowd inquired. “They will be attacked first.”

Théalyn shifted on her feet as Minas Tirith was mentioned and an image of Denethor flashed in her mind. She flinched at the appearance of the Steward of Gondor and she turned her eyes to the stone floor, unaware that Gandalf watched her closely.

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