Birthday Gifts

"There is a messenger from Gondor here, my lord." The king's secretary bowed as Eomer looked up, his face lighting up with interest. Anything to get him away from all the paperwork spread out across the table before him.

"Send him in," he said, shoving the large pile of reports away from him with obvious pleasure.

The secretary hesitated. "He says the nature of his message entails that you must meet him outside, my lord king."

"Why? What is it?"

"I know not, my lord."

Eomer jumped to his feet. "Then let us go see to this message." He strode out of the Golden Hall and down the stone staircase to find a tall, dark-haired man waiting, accompanied by a small pony cart. If not for the obviously new livery that he wore, emblazoned with the White Tree, Eomer would have written the man off as a common laborer or farmer.

"My lord." The man quickly bowed low and Eomer acknowledged him with a nod and gestured for him to rise.

"What message do you bring me from Gondor that must be given outside my hall?" Eomer stood frowning, his arms crossed before him as the messenger unrolled a small scroll of parchment.

"His Majesty, King Elessar of Gondor, wishes to announce the birth of a son, on January 26."

The King of the Mark looked over at the guards who had accompanied him from the hall, then back to the courier. "This is not news. We received this information more than two months ago."

The messenger looked up from his scroll and cleared his throat nervously. "There is more, my lord." He hastily continued. "In celebration of this arrival of a son, this gift comes as a personal thanks to Eomer, son of Eomund, King of Rohan, who saved the life of King Elessar." With a clumsy flourish, the messenger rolled up the scroll and turned to lift a rather large wooden slotted crate down from the back of the pony cart. He placed it on the ground before Eomer and stepped back, raising his eyes expectantly to those of the king.

Eomer looked at him. "Well, open it," he growled, sending the man scrambling to the back of the cart to find a pry bar. A few quick thrusts and the end of the crate fell open, revealing two large fluffy balls, who immediately untangled themselves and looked around them curiously. Eomer's face split into a grin. "What is this?" he asked, kneeling down to examine the puppies.

"They are Dalian dragonhounds, my lord." The pride in the man's voice was evident.

"Dragonhounds?" Eomer already had the black puppy in his hands, holding him back as he frantically tried to lick the king's face. The smaller brindle one was sniffing his boots cautiously. "I have never heard of them."

"They are an old and very valuable breed, my lord, bred by only a few men in the mountain of Erebor near the city of Dale." Forgetting his nervousness before the king, the man knelt down beside Eomer and stood the brindle puppy before him. "See the legs? Here in the back? This dog will stand nearly four feet tall when she is grown. They can keep up with a horse on a day's quick march. And the coat?" He reached over and twisted Eomer's fingers through the thick wiry black hair of the puppy. "It not only turns a hard rain, but is also so dense that few things can bite through it."

"Do they really hunt dragons?" Eomer asked the question teasingly but his laughter faded when the man answered him soberly.

"Yes, my lord. The black one's grandsire had three cold-drake kills." He looked at the king. "Of course, you have to hunt them when they are small, you know. Once they are bigger than a yearling colt, they are too much for the dogs."

Eomer stared at the man with new respect. "You have hunted dragons?"

"Yes, my lord. As a young man. There are not so many any more."

The king looked down at the new arrivals, one now biting at the leg of his breeches. "King Elessar sends these to me as a gift?"

"Yes, my lord." The messenger nodded. "And my own services, my lord, for the course of one year. I bred these dogs myself, and would be happy to train them for you." He reached inside his tunic and pulled out a small piece of parchment. "The king sends you a personal note, my lord." He handed the parchment over and Eomer unfolded it.

Eomer-

If not for you there would be no king and no heir. I am assured these dogs are most ferocious and faithful and thought that hunting dragons might appeal to you. Please take them in place of that which was lost last year in preserving my life.

Aragorn

Eomer grinned as the brindle puppy suddenly growled and crawled over his boots to attack the black one. "A male and a female, I assume?"

"Yes, my lord."

The King of the Mark stood up and clapped the messenger on the shoulder. "Welcome to Meduseld, um-"

"Noloran, my lord."

"Welcome to Meduseld, Noloran."

"Thank you, my lord."

Eomer bent over and picked up the black puppy. "Do they have names?" Noloran shook his head and Eomer looked the puppy over thoughtfully. When the puppy found he couldn't reach Eomer's face he settled for squirming around to lick the hands that held him, whining softly. Eomer set him back down on the ground and the pup gave a sharp bark and attacked the king's boot laces, growling passionately. Immediately Eomer said "Your name is Orc." Reaching down for the brindle puppy he held her up before him, laughing when she snapped at his nose playfully. "And you, you will be called Princess, after my sister, who is also always trying to bite my nose off." He looked quickly at the guards behind him. "You are never to reveal that to Lady Eowyn." The men grinned and hastily nodded their heads.

"My lord?" Eomer turned with a sigh to find his secretary had followed him from the hall. "The reports…"

The King of the Mark hesitated, then flashed a sly smile at his new houndsmaster. "Perhaps I can finish them later, after I have seen the new dogs settled."

"My lord." Noloran was no fool and had seen and understood the king's look. "It is very important that their master spend a great deal of time with them at first. The bonds they form are strongest then."

Eomer gave the secretary an apologetic shrug. "I fear I must take care of this business before I can finish reports."

"But-" the secretary was left standing alone on the stone steps as Eomer and his men gathered the puppies and the rest of Noloran's things from the cart and headed into the Golden Hall.

"And he named that dog after ME!" Eowyn's fury was still evident, even after many days and countless miles. Faramir willed himself not to smile and stole a quick glance over at Elladan, noting that while the Elf appeared to be listening seriously and nodding his head slightly in agreement, the corners of his mouth were twitching slightly.

"You don't know for certain he meant you," said Faramir mildly, looking over at Eowyn with his best diplomatic face. "Perhaps he just likes the idea of calling the dog Princess. You know how he is."

"Oh, yes, I know how he is." Eowyn was fuming. Upon first discovering the name of Eomer's brindle puppy when she arrived at Meduseld, Eowyn had been incensed. Her brother's red-faced denial had not been very compelling, nor had the shame-faced grinning of his guards when the pup's name had been called. However after giving Eomer the silent treatment for the first two days of her and Faramir's week-long visit, she had allowed him to work his way back into her good graces and apparently had forgotten all about the dog until a chance remark by her husband earlier this morning had brought the memory back full force and she had been enraged all over again.

"Perhaps he meant it as a compliment," ventured Elrohir, lifting his eyebrows toward Faramir, who only closed his eyes and shook his head at the Elf, knowing this suggestion would be met with more anger and annoyance.

"A compliment!!" Eowyn's voice rose several notes higher. "What kind of a compliment would that be, to have a dog named for you?" She was nearly purple with anger and Faramir looked around them desperately for something to draw her thoughts away from Eomer and his dogs. He saw nothing, however, just the same rocks and trees that they had been seeing for days, ever since their departure from the empty beauty of Lorien. Eowyn's tirade faded from his ears as he thought back to the silent magnificence of the Golden Wood, nearly empty now that most of the Silvan Elves had gone west.

Although Faramir had initially resisted Aragorn's gift to him and Eowyn of an extended holiday, the king had urged him to go along with Elladan and Elrohir when they returned to the Last Homely House and enjoy the hospitality of his foster brothers and finally Faramir had accepted. The Elvish twins had arrived at Minas Tirith only a day after Eldarion's birth and had enjoyed a long visit before finally announcing their return to Rivendell. Since the departure of the group from the city several weeks ago, every mile brought some new sight, some fabled place that before had only been a name in a story, told by the fireside on quiet nights, now brought to life before Faramir's eyes. Even Eowyn had been having an enjoyable time until this morning's unfortunate comment had reminded her of Eomer's supposed treachery.

"…And you're not even listening!" Eowyn's voice cut into Faramir's thoughts.

"What?" He looked at her blankly and she frowned and groaned with disgust. Faramir smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, my love." He leaned over as he rode beside her and looked into her eyes. "I was just thinking how lovely you are and how much I am enjoying just being together." She tried to keep the frown fixed in place but he deliberately widened his eyes and smiled at her and soon the frown had transformed into a grudging smile.

"You and your smooth talk." She couldn't keep the pleased tone from her voice. She leaned towards him and gave him a quick kiss. "I'm enjoying it, too," she whispered. As reluctant as she had been at first to leave all the children behind at Minas Tirith with Nan and Arwen, once they had started off Eowyn had abandoned all worries and cares to enjoy herself fully. Aragorn had promised her her choice from among the Elvish horses at his foster father's house as a gift, but simply galloping across the Plains of Rohan with Faramir beside her had made the trip worthwhile to her. She smiled at him again, this time it was full and sincere. "I love you." He smiled back and kissed her again.

"My lord, Lady Eowyn." Elladan had stopped his horse and was gesturing before him. "Welcome to Rivendell."

Faramir stared in wonder and amazement. Below them lay the legendary house of Elrond, nestled in a deep valley beside the River Bruinen, the clear water flowing swiftly beneath an arched bridge of stone. The mist hanging among the trees and eaves of the house gave it a dreamlike quality and for a moment Faramir felt lost, suddenly immersed in an ancient story. This house was where Aragorn had grown up, where the Fellowship had set out on their journey; the mythical place Boromir had searched for and found. He looked over at Eowyn, reaching out to take her hand and she gave him a wide smile.

"It's beautiful," she said.

With a gentle nudge to the horses, they started down the path, each step taking them closer to Imladris, storied home of Elrond Half-Elven, the Last Homely House East of the Sea, a refuge, a place where hope had been nurtured, where time and memory met and stood still as the ages passed. The sound of a bell came floating up through the mist to the top of the gorge and although he had never been there before, Faramir felt as if he were being called home.

END

Once Again – A Gazillion thanks to Raksha for beta'ing and suggestions. If I could give you a Dalian Dragonhound, I certainly would!