Edoras in the year 239 of the Fourth Age was not much different from the time of Čomer King. Nearly 116 years after the death of Elessar, Gondor and Rohan have only strengthened their alliances and close kinship.
The peoples of Rohan have kept prosperous during the reign of King Elfwine (63 F.A-82 F.A) and continuing on into the rule of his third son Eňfan I, who in turn left the kingdom to grow and flourish during his rule (82 F.A-145 F.A). After the death of the beloved King, his only son Eámon came into rule. During his time, the Wild Men attacks had almost come to a halt, and the savages were driven South of Gondor into Harad. It wasn’t until the death of the King (182 F.A) that Corsairs from Umbar began to raid and waste their lands again-who had begun to gather strength once more when the news of the death of Elessar had reached their ears-joining with Haradrim-Wild Men forces to try and destroy the strong blood-line of Čomer. Eňfan I had led an excursion to drive out the main company of Haradrim-Corsair in the Eastfold when his entire band was obliterated, leaving the Kingdom of invaded Rohan to his, then 16-year-old son, Edměr in the year 192 F.A.
King Edměr the Young had proven himself just as strong as his forefathers, and had driven the Haradrim-Wild Men armies out of both Rohan and Gondor within a matter of two years. Eventually, in 201 F.A, Edměr obliterated an entire battalion of Corsairs, pushing them back to Umbar. There they remained in the quiet. In the years afterwards, he took the Lady Thrissen of Belfalas as his bride in the year 209 F.A. Together, they bore Prince Eňfan II in the winter of 211 F.A, and Princess Triswyn during the spring of 221 F.A; living in a time of peace and prosperity…
Edměr, son of Eámon, Lord of the Riddermark and King of Rohan sat on his large wooden throne. His meaty hands thumped the wooden horses-serving as arm rests-in his boredom. He stroked his golden beard, which was cleanly shaven and trimmed.
Five of his close advisors surrounded both of the sides of the throne, droning about expenses and restoration of a village that accidentally burned down somewhere in the Westfold. He only pretended to listen, already anticipating the outcome of such an event. He pulled slightly at his dark under-tunic; the heat in Meduseld was constricting, or was it just him? His bronzed crown felt heavy, and the horses that were melded into it seemed to come to life in his head, pounding their hooves like a heavy thunderstorm. But he never revealed his discomfort.
The King’s dark evergreen eyes stared intently at the door; an underlying concern wreathed his pupils, but it was disguised by his unusually kind gaze. His ears tuned in, trying to listen to the sound of the outside, which waited beyond the large wooden doors of the Golden Hall.
Finally, Edměr’s ear twitched with the sound of light footsteps going up stone stairs, followed by two lighter steps, and the heavy thud of leather boots. The King sat up, the first movement he’d made in over an hour. This had caught the attention of his personal guard, and they stood at attention, grabbing the hilts of their swords.
“My Lord?” One of his councilman-Trinian, the Queen’s brother-turned to the King.
Edměr put his large fore-finger to his pale lips, and the hall was silent.
After a long moment of white noise, the large wooden doors opened slowly. Two guards came forth, and behind then a tall woman in deep blue robes-lined with silver and lighter tones of blue-strode forth, tugging a small child alongside her. Both mother and child had dark red-orange hair that shimmered in the torchlight.
Queen Thrissen brought along an air of anger with her as she walked into the hall, her temper had obviously been flared way before she entered, and her bright blue eyes pierced the hearts of the councilmen so that they cringed, and they could not meet her gaze.
Their son, Eňfan, stood close behind his mother, bearing a smug look towards his sister, trying not to laugh at her utter ridiculousness. His blond hair went to his shoulder, shining in the light like Golden Fleece. Even at the age of fifteen, he had the bearings of a great warrior and slight stubble had begun to grow around his chin.
Edměr was relieved to see his daughter, even if she was the victim of her mother’s temper. The Princess had been missing for hours, and the King was just happy to see she was safe. Edměr stood up to his full height, a full foot above the rest, just as his forefathers before him.
He tried not to smile as he walked to his family, noticing his daughter’s disheveled hair tangling around her head like a nest, and her dirt ridden face, covering her light freckles and shy smile. Her tiny thumb was placed firmly in her mouth, and she stared up at her father as he came up to her mother.
“And what was our little Princess doing out of bed?” He knelt down, still taller than his five-year-old daughter as he went on his knees. His kind eyes softened when she stared at him with equally green eyes, shrugging as her answer to his question.
Queen Thrissen shot at her husband, “She was outside the wall, again.”
Offsetting his wife’s flaring temper, Edměr looked upon his daughter kindly, “Triswyn, you should know that you should not go anywhere without your mother.”
The Princess nodded, still sucking on her thumb.
“She was playing amongst the graves, Edměr.” Thrissen scolded, “And when I asked why, she told me she wanted to see the Man again.”
Edměr was unnerved, but didn’t show it, he cleared his throat and looked at Triswyn, “Now, Princess, what has Mother said about strangers?”
His daughter took her thumb out of her mouth, “That they must befriend you before they befriend me.” Triswyn said quietly.
“Aye,” Edměr nodded, “So why did you disobey?”
Triswyn put her thumb back in her mouth and shrugged.
Thrissen sighed furiously, “This is the fourth time this past week, Edměr.” She pointed out.
“I’m aware.” Edměr said.
He then looked at his son, “Eňfan, lad. Take your sister to her room, and make sure she stays in bed.” He said gently.
“Yes, Papa.” Eňfan bowed, and then took his sister's tiny hand.
Triswyn took her thumb out of her mouth as they walked, “Eňfan,” She stared, “Tell me the story about the Hobbits again.”
Their voices echoed lightly and inaudibly as they left the hall.
Thrissen stared at her husband, eyes still fiery with anger. But Edměr spoke before she did, “My, love.” He stood up and took her delicate shoulders, admiring her beautiful flushed face, and rosy cheeks, “Go to our chambers and run yourself a bath. I won’t be long.”
His Queen sighed, staring at her husband with her deep blue eyes, and then she turned around and didn’t speak another word as she walked away from the hall, leaving a path of anger and frustration in her wake.
A few hours later, once all of the affairs in the Westfold were arranged, Edměr retired quietly to his chambers.
Thrissen sat on their bed, weaving her fingers in her long red hair. Her plump pink lips were set in a firm line and she avoided her husband’s gaze.
“It seems I have neglected to ask you of your day.” Edměr brought his maroon velvet tunic over his head, leaving just the black under tunic. He sat before his wife’s covered feet and looked upon her with a loving gaze.
The Queen finally looked at her husband, instantly softened by his tender tone, and the feel of his surprisingly gentle hands under the covers as they rubbed her thin legs. She began to reveal a rare smile, one she only ever let Edměr see.
“There’s my lovely Thriss.” Edměr said gently, “Now, tell me of the events that transpired with our little rebel today.”
He stood up to change into his night clothes, listening intently to his wife as she ranted.
“I just don’t know what to think any more about her,” Thrissen began, still brushing her hair with her fingers, “This isn’t normal for a child to want to explore tombs. And the fact that she tells me every time I catch her-which probably doesn’t amount to the actual number of times she’s been out there-she tells me of a man that stands by one of the graves, just standing. And she feels compelled to help him. Her words not mine.” She sighed for the millionth time that day.
“Well,” Edměr lay down beside Thrissen, “It seems to me that she just has a child’s curiosity, and imagination, at that. A child’s curiosity is an untamable thing, best let it flourish now then later.” He climbed under the covers, “Eventually, she’ll grow out of it, and become the most beautiful and charming Princess in all of Middle Earth.”
“I do hope you’re right.” Thrissen looked at her husband with worried eyes, “I’m afraid she’ll turn out like you.”
“Is that so?” Edměr asked, raising his brow.
“Oh indeed.” Thrissen lay herself down as if to sleep.
Edměr nodded slowly, and then swiftly burrowed under the blankets to tickle his wife’s stomach with his lips.
“Edměr!” Thrissen giggled uncontrollably.
He climbed on top of her, “If she turns out like me, then we’ll at least know she’ll make her husband a happy man.” He bent to kiss his wife’s neck.
“You are a dirty man Edměr, Eámon’s son.” Thrissen chuckled, “A dirty man indeed.”
“Eňfan,” Little Princess Triswyn yawned, still trying to stay up to listen to her brother tell her stories, “Tell me again about the dwarves in Erebor. And how Smaug’s scales glistened like they themselves were made of fire and gold.” She pulled the covers close to her chest, looking up at her older brother.
Eňfan chuckled, “Tris, you already know that one from the first word to the last.” He kissed her cheek, “Now it’s time for bed, before mother kills us both.”
“She won’t.” Triswyn argued, sitting up and jumping on her brother’s back, “I’ll fight her off.” Then she got on all fours and jumped on the floor, bearing her pearly white teeth, “I’m a Warg, I’ll protect you, Eňfan.” Then she growled.
Eňfan burst out laughing, his sister was a trouble-maker, but her cute looks always softened every punishment given. Then he shook his head and picked her up. He set her gently under her blankets, embroidered in red horses running across a black field.
“Now, Tris,” Eňfan brushed her hair out of her newly washed face, “Go to sleep tonight, and I promise I will tell you about the Lady Galadriel.”
Triswyn pouted, “That’s a girly story.”
Eňfan sighed, “Then I will tell you about Lady Čowyn. That you haven’t heard before.”
“What did she do?” Triswyn’s curiosity piqued.
“That’s for tomorrow, dear sister.” Eňfan smiled gently. His face was full of the gentleness that his father held.
Triswyn yawned again, and her evergreen eyes fluttered, “I suppose.”
“Good.” Eňfan kissed her forehead, “Now sleep, Triswyn. And dream of the bright green grasses of the Shire. I will be waiting for you at the river, and we’ll go to the sea to watch the last of the elves go out to the Undying Lands.”
The Princess only nodded, and drifted into a peaceful sleep, dreaming exactly what her brother had told her.