Eomer watched as King Aragorn and his troops filed slowly down the single road from Meduseld. The king's banner fluttered and snapped in the breeze and the sun danced off the dazzling display of couched lances and burnished armor. Upon his right rode Prince Faramir and Eomer ground his teeth. Though they did a fine job of concealing their relationship, Eomer was able to see the signs. Of course he would, for hadn't he and Theodred ridden out together many times, side by side, touching but not quite touching? Had they not shared secret, covetous glances when they thought no one else would notice? He hated Aragorn and Faramir. He hated them for having what he did not. He hated them for finding peace in the aftermath of so much destruction. Where, in all of Middle-earth was he to find such peace with a land torn asunder by war to govern and people who would face a harsh, bitter winter, without him to guide them?
"My lord?"
Shock flooded Eomer and he turned wild eyes on the one man who, in only a matter of weeks, had become the bane of his life. "Prince Imrahil. You..are not with Lord Aragorn." He glanced out of the corner of his eye and realized that he hadn't even noticed that Dol Amroth's standard was not among those flying beside Aragorn's.
"No, my lord, I requested permission to remain behind. I had need to speak with you and hoped I could prevail upon your hospitality a while longer."
"But Aragorn—"
"Has a lot of work to do in Gondor, my lord, as have you here in Rohan."
"And do you not have something to keep you occupied in Dol Amroth?"
Imrahil inclined his head and his dark brown hair slid forward, casting his long face into shadow. Sunlight glinted off the few gray streaks in his hair, strangely accentuating and shading the brown locks. "So I have, my lord. But, there are things here, too, that could be done. I would offer my services."
"Aragorn is your liege lord, prince. I have too much to do to entertain guests."
"I do not seek entertainment, Lord Eomer," Imrahil's voice was steady and low, but there remained an unmistakable edge, like a battered old sword hiding its true value. "I have access to things, things that Rohan will need in the coming months if she is to survive. I know that is what is foremost on your mind—for it is on the mind of many now that the war is over and Sauron's threat has been forever removed from Middle earth. You have lost manpower and horses in too large a number. Whole villages were destroyed and people have no place to live. You will need much."
"You say to me things that I know already. Do you think that I do not feel for the widows and orphans who are crowding the city? Do you not think that I care for their welfare? I am all too aware of the problems I face; I am aware that winter will be like a starving wolf on the doorsteps of my people."
"All the more reason for you to listen to my proposals, King of the Mark."
Eomer stared in to Imrahil's gray eyes and realized that the prince meant no harm and he felt ashamed for his outburst. "Come, let us go inside and I will hear what you have to say."
Side by side, they mounted the stone steps, worn by countless years of hundreds of booted feet, and entered the Golden Hall. The trestle tables were pushed to the far corners of the room and women and men moved rapidly too and fro, carrying in those treasures which had been removed for safe keeping. Once more, the tapestries hung on the walls and the banners of the kings and marshals of Rohan were returned to their places.
Eomer took his place in the chair that once belonged to his uncle and motioned for Imrahil to sit in the seat normally reserved for an advisor. As such, he had no advisor yet, but he knew 'ere long, he would have to find someone to help him. "So, prince, you believe you have some aid to offer to Rohan?"
Imrahil studied Eomer, gauging his mood. "Like Rohan, Dol Amroth has also suffered, though not on such a grand scale. I lost many good knights and, equally important, good horse flesh. Rohan steeds are matched only by elven horses, but as you know, those are rare beasts and, now that the elves are leaving, will become even more scarce in years to come. What we do not lack is grain and timber, for ships come from many parts of the world bearing goods for trade. I would propose, therefore, an agreement between us: horses for grain and timber or any other of the necessities that Rohan needs."
Eomer rubbed a spot on the arm of his chair with his thumb. What Prince Imrahil said was true. The time for spring planting was gone and what crops there had been were destroyed by the Wild Men and Orcs. "We, too, lost horses, Prince Imrahil, and right now I do not know how many of them I have to spare."
"You know exactly how many of your herds still roam the plains, Lord Eomer," Imrahil countered. "Your uncle did not leave Rohan unprotected and unwatched while he answered Gondor's call. Though you brought many horses with you to Gondor, you left a larger number behind. The men charged with keeping the borders safe, guarding the backs of the combined armies, gathered those horses still roaming freely and have them penned somewhere. I am not asking that you give me the best of your herds, only enough to replace those that I lost."
Eomer's lips curved upwards. Imrahil was shrewd, he had to admit. "I stand corrected, prince. But, the Rohirrim are ever loathe to part with their horses. They are the most valuable things we possess."
Imrahil watched Eomer's thumb as it caressed the carved wood, worn smooth by so many generations of kings. "You will be reduced to eating them if you are not careful."
Blood rushed to Eomer's face and he gripped the chair arms hard as he leaned towards Imrahil. "What are you really after, Imrahil of Dol Amroth? Why have you remained behind rather than returning to Gondor with Aragorn?"
Relaxing in his seat, Imrahil allowed Eomer's anger to wash over him as water over stone. He knew the frustrations ran deeply in the hot-tempered man and that his youth warred with experience and position. He could afford to be patient with Eomer just a little longer. "To help, Lord Eomer, that is all. You are alone, my lord. Your uncle is gone; your cousin is gone. Hama, a man your uncle trusted and valued, is not here to aid you. There are none to give you advice and guide you."
"I will not be the puppet of Dol Amroth," hissed Eomer. "We have always been free and I will not bankrupt my people to you."
"I do not seek Rohan's bankruptcy. Why can't you see that I am trying to help you? Why is it that you bristle at every suggestion that I make? Why do I make you so uncomfortable, Lord Eomer?"
Because you understand too much. Your eyes see through to my heart. Eomer thought, but did not say. "I will think on your proposal."
"Also, there is my daughter, Lothiriel, who would make you a fine wife, when you are ready.And I have sons that might be a good match for Lady Eowyn, if she is of a mind. I would ask your permission to send for them. Or, you may come to Dol Amroth, if you like, and examine the goods that I propose to trade."
"I will give you my answer in two days," Eomer rose, intending to remove himself from the hall. He felt confined, trapped, and needed to get out to the fresh air.
Imrahil rose and bowed from the waist. "Thank you for hearing me out, Lord Eomer."
Eomer inclined his head just enough to suit propriety and started for the doors, his footsteps ringing on the stone floor.
"My lord?"
Eomer held his tongue and waited with his head cocked to one side.
"You will not find the answers that you seek there."
Eomer stormed through the open doors without another word.
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