Éomer Imagine: Hearts Fire.

Éomer Imagine: Hearts Fire. Part Twenty-Two

Théoden occupied the front of the considerable banquet hall, casually outfitted from the hasty retreat back into Edoras. A throng of villagers and militants had pushed to get within view of their king, bustling about and jostling to find a decent seat upon the pews that had hurriedly been laid out for the impromptu ceremony of mourning. Attendants swayed around with an exceptional speed to make certain that everyone had a goblet or drinking vessel, waiting eagerly for the dramatic moment of the royal toast. Soon enough most bodies had filled the benches, and yet more stood in lines right down the steps outside. Éomer and Eowyn suddenly appeared at the side of the hall and walked over to stand tall behind their uncles' throne, smiling sombrely at the crowds. Eowyn moved to stand on the steps before Theoden, taking a bejewelled goblet from a tray and bending to offer it to him. 

The room now stood in silence.

"Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country-" Théoden started, suddenly growing impassioned as he took the chalice from his niece with a dejected puff of his chest. He had planned a lengthy and intense speech, choosing to go in depth about the frightful battle that had taken place so that all knew the sacrifice that had occurred for them to return home. But instead, he became silent. Glancing around the lobby with tears swimming around his eyes at the loss.

"Hail the victorious dead!" Théoden thundered and offered his cup to the heavens with an almighty drive of his arm.

"Hail!" The chamber screamed back at him, all following his movement and lifting their containers towards the ceiling. They then all drank deep, allowing the watered-down wine to hit their stomachs and sitting in thought for several minutes before Eowyn stood before the king and faced them all, grinning from ear to ear. 

"The feast is about to begin, move the benches back!"

The atmosphere appeared to change almost immediately, the servants rushing around the space to speedily move fittings and furniture, preparing long oaken tables full of rich and dense bowls of food for the memorial banquet. Helpers began to roll out fresh barrels of ale from the basement, uncorking them before commencing to sing as people tossed around tankards to fill under the stream of frothy alcohol. Éomer was one of the first to be served another drink, and he drank it down with haste, busy looking around the room and then winking at a certain maid when he saw that she was looking for him too. The young Lord then shuffled off with a group of the riders, who had grabbed at him to join Gimli as the dwarf sat down at a table in an attempt to start a drinking game.

"So the rules are, gentlemen..." Éomer grinned, indicating to his assistant to fetch more tankards. "No pauses, no spills-"

"-And no regurgitation!" Gimli giggled, narrowing his eyes at Legolas as the elf gracefully sat opposite his friend on a rickety table at the back of the hall. 

"So, it is a drinking game?-" Legolas questioned, looking ready for the challenge. "-We drink until..."

"Last one standing!" Gimli laughed, already wiping his chin from draining a drink.

"Drink to victory!" One of the riders called out, slamming down more tankards.

Over on the opposite side of the hall, (Y/N) had placed herself down at an unsteady table away from the turbulent celebrations, choosing to sit with her mother and the princess Eowyn. Yolina beamed at her daughter and rested her head upon her slender hands, gazing at (Y/N) proudly. "How are you, my dear?" 

"I am good Mama, but how are you? Are you recovering well?" The maid also smiled a greeting to her friend, who pulled her stool in closer to the other women, to hear them over the roaring fiddle players who had struck up their instruments with delight.