Title: Is It True?
Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel
Summary: The Son of the Hall keeps a firm watch over the Hall’s most recent guests from the South, on the banks of the Brandywine – and has a somewhat sobering conversation with his king.
Rating: PG for mentions of death.
A/N: For Shirebound, for wee hobbits everywhere, and for Dreamflower 😊 For the Purple Path “Things that go bump in the night”, too – at least, very loosely.
“Uncle Éomer?”
The King of the Mark had been dozing lightly in the shade, keeping out of heat of the day, while his son Elfwine fished in the Brandywine. It was a surprise, then, to be drawn out of his rest by fourteen-year-old Periadoc Brandybuck, Son of the Hall. The teenaged lad greeted him with a stern look – and a dish of perch with mushrooms!
“Oh – thank you, lad.” Éomer replied warily, taking the dish. “Have I missed luncheon, then?” The amount of light filtering through the leaves had changed considerably; the Sun was setting and the Moon coming into view – how long had he been sleeping?
“It’s dinner time,” Periadoc said sternly, fixing his father’s liege with a withering glare. “Da says you Big Folk don’t need as many meals as us, but Mum won’t believe it. And you may be king and all, begging your pardon, but you’re still younger than Da and he’ll have plenty to say if you don’t eat.” He paused and tacked on a hasty “My lord,” though his glower was still rather impressive.
Éomer stifled a laugh. Meriadoc the Magnificent was a fearsome foe indeed, here on his own land, and his heir was shaping up to be the same.“Your Da is quite right, Perry-lad, and I do apologise. I was quite tired after our ride. Where Elfwine finds the energy to fish I can’t imagine!” He began tucking into the food at Perry’s insistence, while the lad watched intently to be sure the King finished it all.
“Well, Da was going to wake you, but Mum said to let you be. Though I heard her ask what your own da and mum would think of you skipping meals,” he added. “Da didn’t answer her. Didn’t he meet them? Wasn’t your Da the king?”
Indeed, Éomer himself had taken on a rather closed expression. “No,” he said briefly. “My sister and I were brought up by our uncle, Théoden King, after our parents died.”
Periadoc gasped. “Oh! Like Uncle Frodo,” he said softly. “That’s so sad.” His anger vanished, and he patted Éomer’s arm. “And then your uncle, too, and you and Lady Éowyn just tweens, Da says. Even younger than Uncle Pippin – is that true? It doesn’t seem right.”
Éomer nodded. “Yes, younger than Pippin, though we were both accounted full-grown by the measure of our folk. Still, I will not deny it has been difficult.” He smiled sadly, staring out across the River toward the Shire. “Still, Perry, think no more of it. I have my Lothiriel, and our children. I will always miss my parents – all three of them,” he added, and Perry understood, “but I will not let their deaths burden me – especially not here in the land of the holbytla, with my small brother and his kin here to look after me.”
Perry nodded firmly. “Yes, my lord! We’ll take very good care of you. And here’s some of Ma’s own wild berry crumble, you don’t want to miss that!”
No, Éomer certainly did not! Thoughts of the past aside, he turned his thoughts to Mistress Estella’s delicious cooking. |
