Part 133 of the Elfwine Chronicles. The Elfwine Chronicles are a series of one-shots built around the family group of Eomer, Lothiriel and Elfwine. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes.

A/N: This idea came to me during Sunday School, though the lesson wasn't particularly related. I guess you never know when one thing will trigger a totally different thought.

Needful

(October, 21 IV)

Elfwine had always loved his mother's garden. Perhaps that was partly due to his associating it with her, but also that he had often spent time playing here while she worked with the soil and plants. In any event, he found it a peaceful, restful place to ponder life and, presently, love.

For a year that had seemed to be in a downward spiral of despair, now he could not remember a better year of his life. Though he was missing a hand, Dariel of Gondor had accepted his suit of marriage, and her parents had readily consented. Only a few more months and he could claim her as his bride. In some ways, that was a daunting prospect. He had always struggled with concern over how well he might do in his father's stead as king one day; he desperately wanted to emulate his parents in marriage. He had seen enough of life to know that not all men and women showed such love and respect for their partner. He knew that some men believed marriage denoted ownership of the woman, and that she was his to command. He saw neither of these practices with his mother and father, and he had no intention of their being part of his own marriage. Like his father, he would make every effort to cherish his wife all the days of his life – he made this silent vow to himself, though he thought Dariel understood that was his view on the matter.

In the twilight, something darted among the bushes nearby, and Elfwine instantly threw off his musings and became alert. Though there were guards around Meduseld, and Edoras was largely a safe place for all, it was not impossible some danger had slipped onto their doorstep. Automatically his hand dropped to the dagger at his hip. He was still learning to fight left-handed, so he would be at a disadvantage, but few could match his determination and persistence.

The figure moved again, bolting toward the nearest door into Meduseld, but now a last shaft of the fading light struck it, and he could tell that it was his younger brother, Theomund. Puzzled as to why his brother was so secretively returning home, he called out, "Theomund? What are you doing?"

His brother froze at the sound of Elfwine's voice. For an instant, he just stood there unmoving, his back to his older brother, and then with a sigh, he turned and moved cautiously toward him. Stopping in shadows, some distance away, Theomund answered, "I...I am just going in to wash for supper."

Elfwine could tell it was a purposely vague response, and he was suspicious of Theomund's behavior – why was he keeping his distance?

"Come here, where I can see you," Elfwine instructed, and after a moment, Theomund swiped at his nose and did as he was told.

As he stepped into the light, Elfwine immediately saw the reason for his reticence. His clothes were torn and dirty, his hair tousled and bearing a few clinging leaves, and his nose was still oozing blood. It was difficult to tell in this light, but he rather expected his brother's left eye was going to be black also.

"What happened to you?" Elfwine asked quietly, trying to reassure Theomund with his calm. It was unlike Theomund to get into fights. He was so mild-mannered and agreeable that at times it seemed nearly impossible to anger him. Something of great import must have occurred to lead to this dishevelled appearance.

Theomund sighed and moved to sit beside Elfwine. For several moments he was silent, collecting his thoughts, then explained, "I...I did not mean to get in a fight, but..." He stopped and swiped at his nose again, the trickling blood making it tickle.

Elfwine laid an arm about his brother's shoulders and asked, "What happened? Tell me."

Slowly, Theomund nodded and then explained about Flodlith, son of Isenfolme, the smithy. Elfwine knew the lad. He had been born 'touched' and, though he was a few years older than Theomund, he was still very much a child. Sometimes, when there were no adults around, the boys would make fun of him. Theomund had happened upon three of them, who had Flodlith cornered, and were taunting and tormenting him. He had readily seen that the boy was confused and terrified. Unheeding of being outnumbered and outmatched, Theomund had pitched into them. After spending so much time with the blacksmith, he was stronger than many lads twice his size, and he used that strength to good effect. He got in enough good licks to make his point.

"I...I told them if they bothered Flodlith anymore they would answer to me! I know Mother will be upset about me fighting, but...but I do not care! I cannot let them frighten him that way. Elfwine, he was so scared he was shaking, and he was crying. I got him calmed down and walked him home, but...but it made me angry," Theomund softly finished, staring sorrowfully at the horizon.

A slow smile slid over Elfwine's face, and he pulled his brother to him, pressing a kiss to his head. "You did the right thing, little brother. Mother will not be upset when she knows why you did it. And next time, you may tell them they will also answer to ME if they do such a thing, for I am instructing you to tell me about it. We will not tolerate such things among our people. Father would not like it and neither do I."

They sat in brotherly companionship for a few more minutes as the last of the sun disappeared behind the mountains. At length, Elfwine rose, pulling Theomund with him. "Come, let us get you washed and get something to eat." They began to move toward the Golden Hall, but then Elfwine paused and turned to face Theomund, catching his shoulders. Looking him straight in the eye he said firmly, "I am proud of you, Theomund. I know you do not care for fighting in general, but it is good that you will fight when it is needed, for those things that are important. You will be a fine man one day, and I am proud to have you for my brother."

Theomund beamed, a grin taking over his previously sober countenance. Unable to speak, he just nodded his thanks and the two continued inside for their evening meal.

THE END

2/25/07

Elfwine is 20, Theodwyn is 13, Theomund 11 and Morwen 7. Theodred won't be born for another 2 years.

Flodlith - "gentle stream"; Isenfolme - "iron hand"

Super secret extra background for those of you who actually read my notes: I had mentioned in other Chronicles that Theomund began hanging around the blacksmith shop when he was about 8, and in Artistic Design I indicated he had bought a blacksmith shop and adjacent building when he was 20 years old. With that in mind, what I am assuming here is that the blacksmith he was hanging around at 8 was Isenfolme, who already had a son named Flodlith born three years before Theomund. Presumably, Isenfolme was the son of a blacksmith and inherited the shop from his father, who was killed at Helm's Deep during the War. Isenfolme and his wife had previously had a child – a daughter who was stillborn. His wife was in her early forties when Flodlith was born, and discovered to be mentally handicapped. The couple was a bit beyond further attempts for children, and reluctant to try under the circumstances, so Flodlith remained their only child, but not really in a position to inherit and take over the blacksmith shop from his father. Consequently, Isenfolme sold the shop to Theomund, who was like a son to him, with the agreement that he could continue working there for wages as long as he wished. Flodlith was often at the shop with his father, so Theomund became well acquainted with him, considering him almost like a brother.

End note: It is best that you read the Elfwine Chronicles in the order they were written. The more of them that I wrote, the more likely I was to make reference to one of the previous ones and something that happened there. If you want to read them in order, go to the top of this page and click on my name (Deandra). That will take you to my profile page. Scroll down and you will find all the stories I have written. The Elfwine Chronicles are in order from bottom to top since ffn shows them in the order they were posted. A few were posted out of number order, but you can read them in posting order or number order since those few won't be affected in the story content.