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Boromir dismounted and turned his horse over to the care of one of Edoras’ stable hands. Even before he had entered the gates, he could feel a dark cloud casting a shadow over the Mark. The king’s sister had just died, and Boromir had come as an emissary of Gondor to pay his respects to the grieving family. Even if this were not an official visit, he wanted to be there for his friend Théodred and for Théoden King, who had been nothing but welcoming to him whenever he visited.
As he climbed the steps of Meduseld, he returned the door ward’s greeting and waited to be granted entry. He was tugging off his riding gloves when Théodred suddenly appeared.
“You made it.”
“I may not have grown up around horses like you have, but I’d like to think I’m a decent rider, even by your standards.” If his father had been there, he would have scolded him for being insensitive. But Boromir knew that Théodred appreciated the added humor.
“I only meant that winters here can be dangerous for travelers.” Théodred’s lips tightened into a thin line before he forced them to curve into a shaky smile. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course. I know how much you loved your aunt. She was like a mother to you.”
“My other aunts are already here. And my cousins…”
Boromir wondered if he was talking about Théodwyn’s children. He had never met them, since they were raised in Aldburg, but Théodred had mentioned them a few times. They had lost their father earlier in the year during an Orc raid. He was curious as to who would be taking care of them from now on, but it was not his place to ask.
As Théodred led him to the throne room, Boromir’s gaze wandered over the elders and courtiers who had formed several small circles, all of them speaking in hushed whispers to each other. According to Théodred, his aunt’s burial had already taken place in Aldburg. She was laid beside her husband, Éomund, with only the close family in attendance. This gathering was mostly for the Rohirrim nobility and the king’s éoreds, while the common people draped a black sheet over their doorways and sang mourning songs at sunset for three nights.
The pair found Théoden, who was speaking with Grimbold. After their conversation ended, Théoden turned to greet his guest from Gondor. Boromir took notice of the dark circles under his eyes, as well as some redness near his irises. Both bowed, and then Théodred stepped to the side to be out of the way.
“Westu hál, Théoden Cyning,” said Boromir.
“Ah, your Rohanese has improved since last time you were here,” Théoden said tiredly. Then he cleared his throat, and when he spoke, there was a lightness to his tone. “Baren bar lin. Le hannon a tholel.”
“Gerich naergon nín,” Boromir answered.
“Come and meet my sister-son and sister-daughter,” the king said as he beckoned Boromir to follow him. They went to one side of the dais where two young children sat huddled together, pointedly ignoring what was going on around them. “Here are Éomer and Éowyn. Children, please greet our guest. This is Boromir, son of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor.”
Neither one budged and seemed to move closer together, if it was possible. Théoden King sighed and rubbed at his eyes.
“I hope you can forgive them. They have been like this all afternoon.”
“I can imagine this is not easy on them. It was difficult when I went through it. They do not have to greet me if they choose not to.”
“Very well. I have other guests to greet. Théodred, please check if the meal is close to being ready.”
“Yes, Father.” Théodred touched Boromir’s arm. “Will you be alright if I leave you here for a moment?”
“I promise I will stay out of trouble.” Théodred managed a chuckle and lightly patted his shoulder in parting. Boromir watched him leave before turning back to the children. They were in the same position as before, although Boromir could see that the brother was scrutinizing him through his somewhat messy hair. Boromir raised his arms over his head and stretched, popping his back and knuckles. “Do you mind if I sit here? I have been riding for five days, and my feet are sore.”
Neither one answered, nor did they speak when he sat down on the steps. Éomer tried to scoot away from him, and his sister let out a whine at being jostled. Boromir watched them with a sad smile before looking forward. He leaned back on his hands and straightened his legs out in front of him.
“I know what you’re going through. I lost my mother when I was young, too.”
The silent siblings stayed silent. Boromir could practically feel Éomer vibrating with rage whenever an adult would come over and, upon seeing his expression, offer half-hearted condolences before searching for someone more important, like the prince or the king. Boromir assumed this was why it was taking so long for Théodred to return from his father’s errand.
“You know, I was protective of my little brother when our mother died, just as you are protecting your little sister. I was ten and he was five.” Éomer still didn’t speak, but his shoulders seemed to relax a bit. “It can feel lonely. Like no one understands how much you are hurting. But if you pick through all of the strangers and the insincerity, you will find the people who love you. Your uncle Théoden and Théodred love you very much, and they love your mother, too.”
“I wish they would leave us alone. We don’t need them.”
Boromir had to refrain from pinching himself. He speaks!
“Sometimes, it’s easy to think that you can make it in the world on your own when you are young. But as someone who sacrificed his childhood and took on too many responsibilities, I want you to know that it is alright to let people help you. One day, when you’ve grown, you will return to the home of your childhood. Until then, your uncle wants to make sure that you and your sister are taken care of. And one day, you will look back and wonder at how quickly the time passed, and you may wish that you could have some of it back.”
The boy’s silence spoke volumes. He had no interest in listening to the advice of some stranger, even if he was a friend of the family. Boromir’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile, and he was about to search the crowd for Théodred again when he felt like he was being watched. His gaze shifted to Éomer’s shoulder blade where a pair of blue eyes were watching him from underneath golden curls. He smiled at her, and he saw a slight crease of her eyes. A tiny hand emerged, and it pointed a finger at his hip.
“Were you looking at my horn?” Éomer flinched and moved so that his sister was completely hidden behind him. Boromir held up his hands. “I mean neither you nor your sister any harm.”
“I’m Éowyn. My name isn’t ‘your sister.’”
“Very well. I shall call you Éowyn, then.” He grasped the horn and lifted it. “Would you like to hold it?”
Éowyn nodded, causing her curls to bounce about her round face. Boromir slipped the strap over his head and held the horn out. Éomer glared at him. Éowyn reached a hand towards it. Boromir held up a finger and got up from the steps before sitting cross-legged in front of them on the floor. This allowed him to hand it to Éowyn without having to reach around Éomer, and it allowed Éomer to keep him in direct sight.
“Is it a drinking horn?” Éowyn asked as she held the wider end up to her eye and looked into it.
“No.”
“A hunting horn?”
“It was made by a hunter, my ancestor Vorondil. It was made from a wild Kine of Araw, who your people know as Béma.” The last part seemed to make Éomer perk up.
“Why would Béma let someone hunt his herd?” Boromir shrugged.
“I don’t have the answer, as it was a long time ago. This horn has been an heirloom for over a thousand years.”
“What’s an air loom?” asked Éowyn.
“It is an item that is kept in a family for a long time. It is usually handed down from parent to child.”
“Like Mōdor’s necklace. See?” She pulled out a slender gold chain that had been hidden under her dress. Part of the way down were a pair of dark blue stones, and in the center was a golden flower with five petals and another blue stone in the middle, cradled upon what looked like gold vines.
“It is a beautiful necklace, and a beautiful reminder of your mother.”
“It’s my good luck charm,” Éowyn said proudly as she let the necklace fall about her neck. “Is yours a good luck charm, too?”
Boromir hummed in thought. By now, Théodred had returned from the kitchen—and being interrupted multiple times by various elders and members of the King’s Riders—but he did not make his presence known, choosing instead to observe the conversation from afar. At least Éowyn seemed to be in higher spirits. Éomer, on the other hand, was at the risk of having permanent frown lines.
“I suppose it could be. It is said that the horn can be heard from anywhere within the ancient boundaries of Gondor, including here in Rohan.”
“You mean before the land was given to Eorl?” asked Éomer.
“That’s right. This horn is older than Rohan.”
“Wow, that’s so old,” said Éowyn. “That’s almost as old as Uncle Théoden.”
“Uncle Théoden isn’t that old,” Éomer grumbled. Théodred suppressed a laugh to avoid being noticed.
“Éomer is right. Your uncle is even younger than my father,” said Boromir, which seemed to be even more of a shock for Éowyn. After taking the horn back and slipping the strap over his head, he spoke again. “According to the family legend, should the horn be blown within the boundaries of ancient Gondor, its call will not go unheeded.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means that if I am ever in danger, I can blow the horn and help will come.”
At that moment, Théodred decided to make his presence known. He walked around behind Boromir and gently thumped him on the head. Boromir flinched and covered his head.
“If you are going to get yourself into danger and in need of rescuing, make sure you do it after the sun rises,” said Théodred as he sat on the steps next to Éomer.
“Bold of you to assume I would need you to rescue me. And I didn’t realize you were so concerned with your beauty sleep.” Théodred smirked and waved a hand dismissively.
“I don’t need any beauty rest. But the horses do. Why else do you think our horses look better than yours?”
Boromir glowered at his friend but refrained from speaking, and even had to sit on his hands to hold himself back from lunging at him and getting him into a headlock. He couldn’t risk causing a scene at a funeral and potentially jeopardizing a five-hundred-year-old alliance.
