LOVE! Rohirrim Style

08 - Spring hath sprung a leak in my leaky widgets

LOVE! Rohirrim Style

Chapter 08

Spring hath sprung a leak in my leaky widgets.

“Great Ilúvatar!” Imrahil scanned the bill from the dressmaker. “What is in the material of this gown?”

The clerk shrugged. “Mithril?” 

*** 

There were trunks lined up in the courtyard of Edoras. Éomer strode among them like a man seeing a three-headed dog. “What is all this?”

Gamling followed behind, munching contentedly on an aging apple. “Probably my lady-wife’s luggage. Better get used to it.”

“USED TO IT? Why should I get used to your wife’s need to bring everything but the kitchen washtub anytime she travels?”

“Éomer, King!” Both men jumped as Beornia came around the corner. “What a ridiculous statement to make! The kitchen washtub indeed! Besides, this is just the beginning. There are cooking utensils and cook stoves and servants and bedding…” she disappeared into Meduseld, the door swinging shut behind her with a bang.

“SERVANTS??? TENTS???? We will be until the next year’s harvest getting to Dol Amroth!”

“Sire!” Aefre came from the door that Beornia had just gone through. “This is not a muster or a battle éored! You are going to retrieve your bride! Your éoreds wives and in many cases, families are attending. And then we will be returning with your bride and, I suspect, any servants she decides to retain! Surely you do not wish for her to sleep on the ground like one of your riders?” She strode through rows of baskets, counting and making note. “Béma on his great Steed! Men have no business or brain in their heads when it comes to such things.” Her voice trailed off as she went down the stairs. “They think all they have to do is show up bathed and their hair braided…” 

Gamling continued to crunch his apple, completely nonplussed by the entire exchange.

“Gamling!”

Gamling looked up, teeth still sunk to the core of the fruit. “Hmmm?”

Éomer stood, arms akimbo. “Are you not going to say anything?”

Gamling finished his bite before looking to the left and then right, looking to see if an orc or – worse - another woman would creep into the courtyard. Seeing none, he looked back at the king, as if addressing his own wife. “Why?”

“Why? WHY?” Éomer was completely red in the face and even the guards at the doors were watching behind covert eyes. “She’s YOUR wife! Put your foot down! Tell her to come back and take this...this…” he gestured to the crates, “ this… stuff back into the Great Hall and put it away!” Éomer stepped toe to toe with his elder Marshal and put his fist to his chest. “Be the Rider!” 

Gamling exhaled before tossing the apple core to the side and off into the dirt. “Sire, I would follow you into battle and die for Rohan in your service, but…” he clicked his tongue and rubbed his sternum where the King had thumped him, “I would like to continue sleeping in her bed and have no desire to spend the rest of my married life sleeping with Dréogan.” 

There was a bang as Eadignes and Willan came through the Great Hall doors, Eadignes chattering up a blue streak. “… need to prepare the horses and all saddle bags; of course Lady Aefre has-“

“Eadignes! Willan!” Éomer’s grin was ear to ear and he spread his hands as if welcoming long, lost friends. “Just who we need!” He gestured to the trunks. “It has been decided these are unnecessary and should be returned to the hall. If you could take them in and see they are put away, I will personally oversee your wedding!”