REALISATIONS
It was still quite early in the morning, but all of Edoras was humming with anticipation and activity. The city was making ready to celebrate the wedding of the king's second son to the daughter of a minor noble of one of the Gondorian vassal states. The young couple had met during Haldred's stay with his grandfather to learn the trade and traditions of his grandfather's seafaring nation.
Usually, as the bride was of Dol Amroth, the marriage would take place there according to the tradition, but Haldred had asked his wife-to-be – and pleaded with her family – to have the wedding take place at Edoras. As his father-in-law to be was a reasonable man (and perhaps also a bit overwhelmed by his daughter marrying into royalty), he had agreed to let the ceremony take at the place of birth of the groom. And as soon as the news spread of the forthcoming wedding, the city had been on the other end.
Eventually all the guest had arrived, including Haldred's siblings and their families. Luckily, their new families mostly also included their parents' good friends such as the King of Gondor, Elfwine being married to a princess of Gondor, and his sister Théodwyn to the Crown Prince of same country. Among the guests were also the families from Ithilien and Dol Amroth as well as two hobbits, a dwarf and an elf.
This morning, the king and his sons had escaped the ministrations of the womenfolk. Queen Lothíriel and her ladies were busy preparing everything for the grand feast – and the bride for the ceremony. Éomer knew better than to get in the way of the women. Vast experience both with his sister and his wife – and with his eldest daughter - had taught him this. Very early in the morning he had woken his youngest son Théodred, ordering to him to get his brothers – both the groom and the heir to the throne, Elfwine. Elfwine had in turn kicked his best friend Hama out of bed. Hama was Captain of the Royal Guard and thus also expected to accompany his king, when he left Edoras.
It was planned that even the rest of the young men of the family should have participated in the morning's activities. However, the young men had had a reunion at one of the mead halls last night and most of them had excused themselves, not particularly wanting to leave their beds this morning. Late nights, and the consumption of spirits had, however, never impeded neither Éomer nor his sons very much. Besides the king had never accepted weak excuses such as a hangover from his sons to abstain from neither duty nor leisure. Consequently only five riders rode out of the gates in the early morning sunlight.
"Eldarion is truly getting soft – or else Théodwyn must really have excelled her powers over the poor man," Elfwine snorted disdainfully. "He was never this tame before."
"Oh, do shut up, big brother," Théodred retorted with a wicked grin to Hama. "You should be the one to talk. We did see what time you left last night. Did you really think that you could slip away unnoticed? My guess is that you would not let your wife sleep alone. It was rather early, dear brother. Before you were always the last to leave! And Hal, did you need an early night in order to be prepared for tonight? I certainly do not hope that you left early to pay your lovely betrothed a forbidden visit?"
Haldred flushed violently and mumbled something, which sounded remarkably like a curse on his little brother, but he did not proffer anything more.
Théodred chuckled scornfully; he had expected more response.
Éomer barked with laughter. The two older brothers looked at the youngest and then at each other.
Elfwine answered for them both: "Ha," he snorted, "and what about you, little brother? You seemed pretty preoccupied when I left. A good question would be whether you slept alone last night?"
"That, brother dear, is none of your business!" Théodred retorted, blushing and hurrying to occupy himself with keeping his horse steady.
"Little brother," Elfwine retorted quickly, "if you meddle in my conjugal life, and speak of matters you know nothing of, you must be prepared to have a response."
Théodred scowled at his brother and opened his mouth to retort, but before he succeeded, Éomer decided to stop this line of discussion. "That is quite enough, Théodred, I believe that I shall not want to hear more at this particular point!" he growled, sending Haldred a quick smile. As usual, his second son kept out of the line of fire, letting his two more hot-tempered brothers have a go at each other.
Hama had also kept well out of the line of fire. Lord Éothain's eldest son knew his friends too well and did not want to make himself a subject for discussion. He smirked; he too had noticed that his friend had made himself scarce earlier than what had been his wont before and he was acutely aware which kind of temptations a young wife offered, although he was still unmarried. A half-smile formed on his lips as a thought came to him.
The ever astute Théodred caught the smile. "I did not see you either late in the evening, Hama. Do not tell me that my father's fearless captain of the guard too is losing his stamina? Or do you have other temptations as well, Hama? Do we know her?"
Hama jerked. He had actually been thinking of the young woman, who had been on his mind quite a lot lately. The others laughed, apparently it was written all over his face what he had been thinking about. Luckily his face could not tell the others who she was.
"And if I did, my Lords, I would be pleased if all of you would mind your own business. Of course, not including you, Sire, " he hastened to add as he cast a look at his sovereign. Éomer laughed. Hama was more or less like his own son; Éothain and he had been friends for neigh on fifty years ever since Éomer and his sister had arrived at Edoras when their parents died.
"Hama, I assure you that the love life of my captain is none of my business," Éomer grinned. "And let's not continue this conversation, I thought that we were out for a ride."
You would not say that, my Lord, if you knew who she was. Hama thought to himself as he spurred his horse on to keep up with the others.
Some ten years earlier;
Hama had finished his training session and was joining his friends, who were relaxing on the training grounds in the warm spring sun.
Born only one month apart, Hama and the Crown Prince of Rohan had been friends since infancy. At first it came natural as their mothers spent so much time together, but gradually the two boys had formed an almost unholy bond as they discovered that they were of the same mould, and with the same mind for mischief as their fathers before them.
Hama grinned at his friends, as he shred his damp shirt and dropped down beside Elfwine and his cousin Elboron, who was visiting the Royal family of Rohan together with his mother.
"Already exhausted, you two lazy gits – I mean – my Lords!"
"As respectful as always," Elfwine growled. Recently he had found that he had inherited his father's ability to growl – and glare, and he made frequent use of both abilities. Not that Hama usually was affected.
"Always, Highness," Hama grinned back.
"Bema, it is hot today, and it is not yet summer," he added as he took a swig from the water skin, which he had brought with him. He handed it to Elboron, who nodded his thanks.
A little voice behind them startled them.
"Why don't you go swimming then like Théodred and Halwyn? Mama is taking the boys to the river together with Aunt Éowyn, and I was supposed to go, too, but I would much rather go with you."
The voice belonged to Elfwine's youngest sister, Bronwen, who was sitting on the fence watching the three young men. Her favourite position, actually, when the riders were exercising, and she usually pleaded that they included her in their training sessions. A request, which was usually rejected.
The nine-year old was a tomboy of a girl, who besides hanging around the training grounds and trying to escape the more female part of her upbringing, would usually be found in the stables. Usually, as Éomer put it, she looked "as if her pony had dragged her through the worst mud pools around Edoras – and then thrown her in the manure pit." Today was no exception; most of her blonde hair had loosened from her braid, her face sported several mud smears and she was dressed in a torn and stained tunic, leggings and boots.
Elfwine turned and looked at his little sister; he might have known. Where Hama went, Bronwen would usually be found. He had teased his friend mercilessly, but Hama was not bothered. He had only older sisters and a younger brother and somehow liked the idolisation by his friend's little sister.
"Bron, you look an absolute fright; has mother seen you?" Elfwine asked his little sister with a frown. He could not help smiling as he was watching her, though; he adored her – but did not often let on. Bronwen just shrugged and sent him a glare, which could match her father's on a good day.
"And yes – we might go swimming, and no, we are not taking you!" he added as he saw his sister open her mouth to say something.
"You can go with mother and aunt Éowyn; you are too young to go swimming with grown men!" he cut her off.
Bronwen made a face at her brother and jumped down from the fence. "Just because you are all grown up, there is no need to be so horrid to me! Otherwise I shall tell papa that I saw you kissing Halwyn's sister the other night!" she shouted defiantly as she hurried up the hill before her brother could get to her.
Hama and Elboron buckled over as they saw the expression on Elfwine's face.
Hama recovered first. "Did you?" he inquired breathlessly.
"Did I what?" Elfwine shot back.
"Kiss Gerdred?" Hama's grin was wide and teasing.
"Well, yes – I kissed her, if you really must know."
"Is it serious?"
"No, absolutely not – but she looked so, well, kissable – and she did not oppose it. Besides it was only that one time." Elfwine looked incredulously at his friend.
"Watch it, my friend --- or you will end up with a wife, and a future queen of Rohan, before you know it. Her father is not the most tolerant of fathers; he watches over his daughters like a hawk. You might ask his other son-in-law about that! As far as I know, he kissed Gerdred's older sister only once – and then he was forced to marry her."
"A wife – most certainly not!" Elfwine looked as if somebody had struck him. No, Gerdred was not someone he would consider as future queen of Rohan. Before his inner eye he suddenly saw Celebrian of Gondor, and his gaze became unfocused. His cousin grinned; he knew who Elfwine had had in his thoughts since the harvest festival last year – and Hama knew, too.
Elfwine returned to reality. "No, you are probably right; I should stick to more – noncommittal – relationships." He sent Hama a grin. "I am sure that none of the wenches in the Horse & Dragon have dreams of becoming queen, and they are most certainly very generous with their favours – including kisses."
The two Rohirrim grinned cheekily at each other, and Elboron rose. He looked slightly abased by their talk, which a slight flush in his cheeks gave away. "Well, I will leave you two to your --- diversions. I have a letter that I want to write for mother to take home with her when she leaves for Ithilien."
He basked his cousin over the head, put on his shirt and jumped the fence to walk up the hill to Meduseld.
Elfwine watched his cousin's back moving up the hill. Then he turned to his friend. "Hama, we must definitely do something about the state of that boy; he is much too virtuous for his own good. I grant you that the letter he is writing is not for his father – it's for a girl, and I will be damned if I'll continue to leave him in this romantic haze; he must learn the realities of life."
Hama grinned. "Well, together we should be able to come up with something, and it shouldn't be too difficult to get allies to our cause, but don't you think that we should wait until your aunt leaves? I for one would not cherish having to deal with her. I'm not taking him to the Horse & Dragon until after she's left."
"No, you are right, my friend. It can wait until aunt Éowyn leaves. Then we have a couple of months to do the deed before he has to go back to Ithilien."
Elfwine got up and gave his friend a hand to pull him up. "I'm hungry; let's go to the kitchen and get something to eat."
"Good idea. Let me see you work your magic on the kitchen maids," Hama chuckled.
They both put on their shirts, but as none of them bothered to tie the laces, exposing quite muscular and sweaty chests, it did not stop the young scullery maid whom they met upon entering the kitchen area from sending Hama an appreciative look from under half-lowered lids. Elfwine chuckled.
"Obviously she is into redheads, friend."
"Some wenches do have better taste than to go for a wheat-head like you; how many times must I tell you that!" Hama grinned as he mockingly bowed and held the door open for the Crown Prince of Rohan and then followed him in.
The first they saw when they entered the kitchen was Bronwen, who had obviously been complaining to Fréalin, the former housekeeper of Meduseld. She had retired her position but was still very much part of the royal household and was the nearest thing the children of Éomer and Lothíriel had to a grandmother.
As she saw her older brother and his friend enter, Bronwen closed her mouth and sent them an indignant look.
"Why did you not go with mother and aunt Éowyn in stead of sitting here, complaining to Fréalin?" Elfwine asked his little sister, who answered with one of her famous glares.
"Because I did not want to," she said and stomped out of the kitchen. "Brat!" she shouted at him and as the door to the corridor slammed behind her, they overheard her swearing loudly using one of her father's more popular expressions.
"Obviously she is quite angry that her big brother does not want to take her swimming," Fréalin said dryly.
"I can tell, Fréalin," the heir of Rohan said sarcastically.
The old woman chuckled. The youngest daughter of the king and the eldest son were so much alike, and she knew that Bronwen liked hanging around her brother and his friend, perhaps even more so Hama than her brother, and she also knew that Elfwine on some occasions found it quite annoying.
"I love her dearly, you know that, Fréalin – but she is a right little pain in the arse at times,"
"Watch your language, young man!" the old woman retorted. She was not at all fazed by the fact that she was talking to the heir to the throne; she had changed his diaper too many times for that – and she had actually helped deliver him into this world.
Elfwine grinned; like his father he was very fond of Fréalin.
"And what can we do for you?" she asked sternly.
Hama smiled. She had known him always, too – in fact she had also been at his birth. "We know that it is not quite mealtime, but do you think that we might have something to eat? We're hungry."
Béordlin, the housekeeper, who had been watching from her place at the stove, smiled. "Of course you can; we cannot have our Crown Prince and his best friend expiring from starvation," she said sarcastically.
Two of the young kitchen maids giggled as they were watching the two young men, apparently not unaffected by their presence.
Béordlin followed their gaze and shook her head. "You two – make yourself useful and fetch some ham and bread – and some ale for the prince and his friend. Look lively now!"
As her eyes followed the girls, Fréalin muttered, "And you two might arrange your clothes and get a little decent, the girls are distracted enough as it is."
The two young men grinned and laced up their shirts before they sat down at the large table, which dominated the middle section of the kitchen, waiting for the maids to serve them. Béordlin and Fréalin exchanged an amused glance as they continued with their tasks.
Hama looked at his friend. "I actually feel a bit sorry for Bron, she is always caught in the middle between Théodred and his friends and us --- there are not many girls at her age in Edoras who like the same things as she does ..." Somehow he always ended up defending her, but he could not help being fond of the little brat.
Elfwine chuckled. "You are truly soft, you know – at least where that little pain in the backside is concerned. Watch it, or you will end up married to her one day. If she wasn't so much younger than you, I'd swear that you are in love with her!"
Hama gave him a shove. "Don't be daft! I'm not a child-snatcher."
As the young men were having their meal, the queen and her sister-in-law had returned from their excursion to the river. As they were leaving the stables, the queen recognised the form of her youngest daughter, sitting on the ladder leading up to the hayloft. The little girl looked like a thundercloud on a warm summer's day.
"She looks remarkably like Éomer when something has not gone his way – or somebody has watered down the ale," the Princess of Ithilien remarked dryly as she observed her niece.
"Indeed," Queen Lothíriel agreed. "What's wrong?" she inquired as she walked over to her daughter. Her daughter just sent her a dark glance.
Haldred chose this moment to appear. "Probably the fact that her two heroes do not want take her swimming, mama," he proffered.
Lothíriel nodded. "I am not surprised. Bron, you must understand that Elfwine and Hama are grown men now and they cannot always be expected to have a nine-year old girl dragging in their footsteps – however much you would want it."
Bronwen's big blue eyes clouded over and tears began streaming down her cheeks. "Mama, that's so unfair," she sobbed.
Haldred, Lothíriel's and Éomer's calm second son – tall, slim, dark-haired and grey-eyed like his grandfather and uncles – chuckled as he walked over to his little sister and lifted her over in his arms.
"You are the only good brother that I have," the nine-year old sobbed. "Why must you go away, Hal?"
"Because I have to learn things, too. Just like Elfwine. I just have to learn something, which can better be learned at Belfalas than here. But Elfwine is a good big brother, too, Bron. You two are just so alike – and therefore you always argue," the 16 year-old chuckled as he carried her out of the stables. "Now, come on, get your things – then we'll saddle my horse and ride to the river – and we shall take no one else along!"
"I love you, Hal," Bronwen cried as she held on to her brother.
Lothíriel smiled at the sight. "What in all of Middle Earth am I going to do without him?" she remarked to Éowyn. "He is my island of calm in the middle of this vast sea of hot-headed, loudmouthed Éorlingas," the queen sighed. "By Béma, how am I going to live through the year that he is gone?"
Hama smiled to himself, as he followed his king and his sons in through the gates of Edoras. He would never have imagined this all those years ago. And he was also glad that his friend did not know that his prediction of Hama falling in love with Bronwen had come true.
---ooo000ooo—
Meanwhile, at Meduseld Lothíriel and the other women were preparing the forthcoming celebrations and preparing the bride for the wedding. The housekeeper of Meduseld and Lothíriel's companions were also busy with the arrangements for the feast.
Théodwyn and some of the other young women were getting Haldred's betrothed, Iolia, ready. All the young women were giggling and chattering, while they were busying themselves with various tasks. The only exception was Bronwen, who was standing by the window looking out over the plains, her brow furrowed.
"What is the matter with her?" one of the young women accompanying the bride asked. "Is she sad about something."
Théodwyn chuckled. "No, sad she is not. On the contrary I think that she is angry because the men rode out without her."
Her twin sister Ciera nodded her agreement. "You are probably right."
"It would not be the first time. I have never known Bronwen to take kindly to her brothers – or Hama for that matter – leaving her behind when they went for a morning ride," Théodwyn said. The other women laughed.
Bronwen's brow furrowed and she glared fumingly at the others.
Queen Lothíriel caught her glare and shot a glance at her daughters. "Leave Bronwen be. We have better things to do today than to occupy ourselves with Bron's moods!" She went over to her daughter.
"You're nineteen now, Bronwen, and a grown woman. You cannot expect the men to take you along when they want to talk men talk. Knowing your father and brothers; what they had to discuss this morning, was probably not suited for your ears. Snap out of it, daughter," the queen commanded, "I need your hands and your clear head today. And stop behaving like a spoiled brat!"
Bronwen glared at her mother. She did that as well as her father, but the queen was not fazed. She was used to her daughter and her temper and had sometimes, as at this moment, been wildly annoyed about it, but had she seen the inner turmoil of her youngest daughter she might have had pity on her in stead.
Ever since she was a little girl, Hama had been her hero, mostly because he seemed more interested in her doings than her brothers did. Hama had only older sisters and a younger brother, and he had always been fond of the youngest and gutsy daughter of the king, treating her like a cherished little sister, bearing with her moods and teaching her a lot of things. Gradually as Bronwen became a young woman, the hero worshipping of her brother's friend had become a crush – and recently it had developed into love.
She had always been a tomboy, encouraged by a proud father, whose favourite daughter she was – because she was so like her aunt, the king's sister. From early on her favourite place had not been in the kitchen learning how to cook and in her mother's chamber learning how to sew – but in stead sitting on the fence watching the boys and men at weapons training or in the stables with the horses. Her father had more or less encouraged this, and her mother had not protested while she was still young.
The queen had, however, insisted that she had, in time, also had to occupy herself learning more female skills and she had eventually matured from a little, flaxen-haired brat into a beautiful young woman, whose hair had now transformed into various shades of blonde – now that it was no longer dirty all the time. She no longer spent her time sitting on the fence watching the men train, but when she occasionally did, still the person, whom her gaze sought was the tall, red-haired and blue-eyed son of Éothain and Mélia.
Hama had developed from a lean boy into a tall and muscular young man and now in his late twenties challenged the Crown Prince of Rohan for good looks. At the same time he had proven to have a good, level head on his shoulders and had rapidly risen to become a captain of the Royal Guard. And it was not only because he was Éothain's son; Éomer King would never stoop to nepotism, he had proven this time and again. He only promoted people because of their skills.
Bronwen was sensible and mature enough to distinguish infatuation from love. She was truly and utterly in love with her brother's best friend. She knew very well that he was older than her - nine years in fact – but age did not matter to her. Her father was also older than her mother, and she know several others, where the husband was several years older and that seemed not to make any difference.
So – what did age matter? The only thing that should matter was whether you loved each other. Only, Bronwen was far from sure that Hama felt the same as her. How could he love her? He was a grown man and perhaps preferred women who were more – mature. Like her brothers and the other young men, he had probably had several liaisons – and she knew very well what attractions the mead halls and bawdy houses of Edoras held to the single men. She had also seen how the women of the court reacted around the young captain. Several of them closer to his own age – and very pretty. How could he feel something for her? True, he had always treated her kindly – in fact mostly like a cherished little sister, she had to admit to herself, and that was probably how he still saw her.
Why was it that he had not married? It was not that he had not had the opportunities, and he certainly had the age. Her brother had already been married for several years – well, at least four. Could it be that he waited for someone? Could it be her? Then why had he never ... stop dreaming, girl! She reprimanded herself. Clueless fool; just a silly, girlish notion.
Lately, though, she had sensed something different in him.
The way he looked at her had changed; it was as if his eyes burned her – and at times she had caught him looking at her – searchingly, thoughtfully. Could it be that he had noticed her, that he had finally realised that she was not only his friend's little sister, but a woman? No, she could not be sure; she could be deluding herself.
A shove and a hiss from her older sister woke her up, demanding that she returned to the real world. She pulled herself together; she had better comply. They had plenty of work to do if they were to be ready by tonight. Her mother would not permit that the servants should do all the work. "What do you need me to do, mother?" she asked as she joined the other women.
---ooo000ooo---
The men had returned to Edoras. As they had always done, they took care of their horses themselves only handing them over to the grooms after removing the tackle. Éomer put his arm round his second-eldest son's shoulder. "Looking forward to tonight? Don't tell me you are nervous?" Haldred grinned, but the colour rose in his cheeks. "Do not pretend to be all innocent, my boy, you cannot fool your father! Remember – I have known you a long time and also have ears and eyes." Haldred could not help it, but blushed violently.
Éomer chuckled as he saw his son's embarrassment.
"Father, why do you always see it as your prime objective to embarrass your sons?" Elfwine stepped up on the other side of his younger brother.
"Because, my son, your mischief and escapades have threatened the peace of the best part of my married life – and whenever your mother is not around, it is my privilege to embarrass you as best I can. It is my revenge. And you will find out, how sweet revenge of this nature can be, as your litter grows older."
"Fair enough," Elfwine grinned. "Luckily my offspring are too young to do anything other than spoiling my sleep as yet." Celebrian and he had two-year old twin daughters and a couple of months ago his wife had given birth to a son, thus preserving the third line of Rohirrim kings.
Hama grinned. He envied his friend his young family; his sisters already had several children and he longed for a family of his own.
"I have some work to do," he said, addressing his sovereign, "so if it pleases you, My Lord, I will go to it now. Should I ask father to join you?"
"Aye, tell the old scoundrel that his king requires his presence," Éomer growled.
As Hama walked through the stable doors, he instinctively looked up towards the Golden Hall. A woman came out on the steps, looking out over the plains, drying her hands on her apron. She was dressed very plainly and her hair hung in a braid down to her waist, although some tresses had loosened in the strong wind always blowing around Edoras.
Hama held his breath; to him there was no sight more beautiful. His stomach clenched as it had on several occasions this past couple of years. The realisation that he had fallen in love with his best friend's youngest sister had come as a shock to him. She had been part of his life for as long as he could remember; she had followed Elfwine and him like a puppy more or less ever since she could walk; he and Elfwine had always been inseparable and Hama had spent a lot of time with the royal family ever since he was very young; after all his mother was Queen Lothíriel's closest companion, and Hama had always regarded Bronwen as a little sister.
Of course she had always been a little tomboy, always messy and dirty as she preferred rumbling with the boys; dolls had certainly never been among her preferred toys. Hama smiled as he remembered the grubby little girl, who had always hung over the fence, pleading with him and Elfwine to teach her the use of a sword and a bow – and to take her with them wherever they went. These past couple of years, however, she had become a beauty. She was tall for a girl, her hair was various shades of blond and her eyes grey-blue like those of her aunt and the late Théodred, son of Théoden King – or so his father had told him; Théodred had been in the ground long when the boys were born.
It had come upon him quite suddenly. One day she had passed him on the stairs on the way to the stables and she had sent him one of the smiles, which reminded him of a ray of sunlight on a grey and cloudy day; suddenly he had felt as if the air around him was void of oxygen and he could hardly breathe. Later other signs had warned him that his relationship with Bronwen was changing from that of an older brother cherishing a younger sister to a man desiring a woman. He felt warm all over when she looked at him, and he felt a familiar stirring when she was close to him – oh, yes, he definitely desired her as a woman.
Realizing that he was in love with Bronwen was both a joy, although painful, and a source of worry to Hama. After all he was nine years older than her and a grown man. Further he was not entirely sure that Éomer would accept him as a son-in-law especially not as Bronwen was the youngest of three daughters and absolutely the apple of her father's eye. He could not be sure either that Bronwen would want him; he knew that the young riders swarmed around her – and one of them might have caught her eye. He had seen how the younger men looked at the king's daughter.
And with Hama's reputation, which matched that of Elfwine, and although it was perfectly acceptable for young men to seek experience before they married, he was not entirely sure that the king would look favourably on this when the woman, Hama wanted to court, was his youngest daughter.
Hama had not realised that Elfwine had come out of the stables behind him and had seen him gazing towards the stairs of the Golden Hall where Bronwen stood. He recognized the feelings that were showing clearly on his friend's face and he realised that something was obviously happening between Hama and Bronwen; it looked inevitably as if the captain of the Royal Guard was in love – and with his little sister. He could tell the longing in his friend's eyes, recognizing the feelings for what they were; desire and passion.
Well, it did not come entirely as a surprise to him. Although he was her brother, Elfwine was not blind to the fact that his grubby little sister had, indeed, turned into a beautiful woman these past couple of years, and she was just the kind of woman that his friend had always been partial to; tall, blonde and spirited. He also knew that his sister had always favoured his friend, following him around as a puppy.
He grinned to himself; no doubt Hama would be successful – he knew his little sister, but he was more uncertain as to his father. Hama was certainly worthy of the king's daughter – but his father had to realise first that his youngest daughter was now a grown woman, and he was not quite sure that this fact would come easily to Éomer of Rohan.
As hard as it had been for his father to accept that his two older daughters were grown up and married, it would be extremely difficult for him to accept that Bronwen had now also reached that stage. It would be very interesting, indeed, to watch this development. Also because he knew how stubborn his sister could be; should she share Hama's feelings, she would stop at nothing to have their father consent. He grinned. He was looking forward to the battle of wills between his sister and his father.
Without letting his friend know that he had seen him and, indeed, had figured him out, he slipped away. He smiled; he had an idea, which was forming into a plan and he wanted to discuss it with his wife so that she could help him carry it out.
Hama tore himself away from looking at Bronwen and walked towards the clutch of small houses where he had his bachelor lodgings. He smiled to himself; perhaps he would get a chance tonight to dance with Bronwen – or just talk to her. Then he might find out how she felt about him – without being too obvious, of course. But he could stand no longer to keep his distance.
Bronwen had seen Hama standing outside the stables gazing up towards the Golden Hall – and her? He had been too far away for her to tell the expression on his face, but she had a feeling that it was her that he had been looking at. She saw him heading towards the barracks and her eyes followed him: tall, broad shouldered and with the red mane of hair flowing behind him in the strong wind. Like most Rohirrim, he wore his hair long and sported a neat and well-trimmed beard. She thought him the handsomest man in Edoras – indeed in all of Rohan.
Oh, if she could only get a chance of being alone with him this evening, or just dance with him. Then she could perhaps get across to him what she felt for him. With all the guests, and the newlyweds being the obvious centre of attention, her father's watchful eyes would perhaps not rest on her all the time and his attention would be otherwise occupied. She did not really know about her mother, but she hoped that with her family visiting Edoras, the queen would be elsewhere occupied as well.
Bronwen turned and went back to the hall, smiling to herself.
On the way, Hama met his father, First Marshal of Rohan, Lord Éothain. Éothain was the king's best friend and had been so ever since Éomer and his sister had come to Edoras to live following the death of their parents. He was well aware of his son's feelings for the young princess; Hama had confided in his father some time ago when Éothain had found his son sitting on the stairs outside their house, staring into nothingness, with a very sad expression on his face.
As this was not something, which Hama usually did, being as determined and resourceful as his mother – and always full of optimism and mirth, Éothain had been quite puzzled and had set about finding out the reason for this black mood; eventually he had succeeded hauling it out of his son. Hama obviously had needed to get it off his chest.
Éothain had agreed with his son that it could be a tough quest that Hama had set out on. Even if Bronwen did share his feelings, he knew Éomer extremely well and knew that his friend would not give in readily to any man courting his youngest daughter. Éothain had daughters of his own and knew how protective a man could be of his daughters. He clearly remembered the reaction of his own father-in-law when he had asked for Mélia's hand in marriage. He also remembered how Éomer had reacted when Rohan's youngest marshal and the younger of his twin daughters had revealed to the king their intentions of marrying. Éothain had always felt that an earthquake would be too mild a description of Éomer's reaction. On the other hand, Éomer was not an unreasonable man ... and Bronwen was his favourite, and that might still the storm.
"There you are; did you enjoy your ride?" he greeted his son.
"As always, father. I enjoy being with the king and his sons – it is just that I have any number of things to prepare before tonight."
"Yes, I suspect that you might have. There are a lot of things to do for the Royal Guard with so many guests here at Edoras – even though peace reigns in our lands now."
"Aye – that is true, but I am looking forward to the feast tonight. And I also need some time to make myself presentable."
"Hm," Éothain grunted, "well, yes I suppose that there is someone to whom you would like to look presentable." He chuckled and looked at his handsome son, and again it struck him how much he resembled his beautiful mother – at least in colouring: the red hair and the large, blue eyes that were only cold when he looked at an adversary.
Hama did not comment on this, but sent his father a grin, patted him on the shoulder and went to the quarters of the guard. He had some instructions to convey to his second-in-command before this evening's celebrations.
The day moved on rapidly, and eventually everything was ready for the night's celebrations. Anticipation began to creep in. The Crown Princess of Rohan was seen whispering with the housekeeper and the two women entered the great hall where tables were set up for tonight's feast. When they reappeared, both of them were smiling.
--ooo000ooo---
After a brief, informal but nevertheless very joyous ceremony where the young couple spoke their vows according to the tradition of the Éorlingas, and the citizens of Edoras had the chance of hailing their prince and new princess, the king and queen of Rohan led the young couple, the father of the bride and the other distinguished guests into the hall, where already the other guests and family had assembled. At the high table on the dais, the young couple was to be flanked on one side by the king and queen and on the other side by the father of the bride, Queen Arwen, and King Elessar. This seemed to be a great honour to the bride's father, who could hardly speak --- the rest of the assembly were quite casual about it, although the King and Queen of Gondor were not frequent visitors to Edoras, they were after all members of the family.
The sisters and brothers of the groom and their respective partners were seated at the other tables so that they could divide their attention between the other guests. Bronwen was headed towards the seat where she knew that she was to sit, sighing as she went, less than enthusiastic of her dinner companion. "Will it be that boring emissary from the South? Or perhaps that conceited git from Gondor?" she thought to herself. She felt a hand on her arm and a well-known voice saying: "I believe that I shall be having the honour of your company tonight, my Lady."
Hama! Was this mere coincidence, luck or ….? Bronwen hardly dared to look up, but eventually she lifted her eyes. Hama stood beside her holding out his arm to escort her to their seats. She was so astonished that she did not notice the smirk and the wink that her oldest brother exchanged with his wife. She put her hand daintily on Hama's arm and let him escort her to their seats.
Once they were seated, she found out that they were seated quite far from the main table and it would not be possible for her father to watch her. As it were, they were seated quite far from anybody, who might have something to say over them. It was most certainly not where her mother had told her she would be seated – and it was certainly not Hama, who had been supposed to be her dinner partner, she was sure of that.
She looked up and caught the eyes of her older brother. Elfwine! She might have known. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, but the wink and the smile that he sent her told her that he had had a hand in this arrangement. So he knew ...
She felt utterly confused. Just a couple of hours ago she would have given anything to be in this situation but now …. She was not at all sure, but as Hama led her to their seats and helped her getting seated at the table, she relaxed a little bit, rejoicing at the opportunity of being so close to him.
Hama had not dared even hoping that he would be so lucky as to be seated next to Bronwen. He had imagined that she would be the dinner partner of one of the young noblemen who escorted King Elessar. When the steward of Meduseld had told him where he was to be seated, he had scarcely dared believing his luck and had asked his mother how this had come about. Being Queen Lothíriel's most trusted companion he was sure that she would be able to tell him.
But his mother had only shrugged and smiled. "I only know that Celebrian asked Béordlin to make some last minute changes this afternoon, but I do not know what the changes were. However, I trust that you are not dissatisfied, my son."
Dissatisfied? No, but bloody nervous – and at the same time so happy that I can hardly believe it. Hama thought to himself. He just smiled at his mother. "No, mother. Indeed not."
Bronwen smiled shakily at Hama. She felt more shy and confused that she had done for a long time, and she did not know why. After all, it was Hama, her brother's best friend – and she had known him all of her life. But now everything seemed different, she felt as if he was a complete stranger, whom she had only just met. She looked up at him through lowered lashes. He looked incredibly handsome tonight. Although the preferred colours of the Rohirrim were usually gold and green, Hama this night wore a blue tunic with a silver belt, which matched his dark blue eyes and his hair shone as red gold in the light of the torches and candles. She looked more directly at him, and blushed as she realised that he was looking directly at her.
Hama smiled. The flush had brought colour to Bronwen's cheeks. Although, she was usually not pale. She spent a lot of time outdoors and had also from her mother inherited a natural golden skin, contrary to her aunt, who she reassembled very much. Éowyn had always been called the White Lady of Rohan, and was said to have been "pale as a morning in spring". Bronwen was not; she had always to Hama been like a bright summer's day.
Also this night. The youngest princess of Rohan was dressed in a light blue dress with silver embroideries. Her blonde hair hung loosely down to her waist only held with two silver clips. The sleeves were long and draping and the bodice of the dress tapered at the waist. Hama could not remember that he had ever seen her looking lovelier. Although, he thought her beautiful whatever she wore; riding outfit or official dress.
Bronwen blushed even more under his scrutinizing gaze. Then she picked up the courage to say, "What a lucky coincidence; I had never thought that I would have you for a dinner partner tonight. I was afraid that they would seat me beside either an old and boring nobleman – or otherwise an eligible bachelor from some southern county.
Hama smiled. "Yes, I think this a lucky coincidence, too. There is no one that I would rather sit beside at dinner."
"Really?" Bronwen asked with a big smile, although she still felt awkward from the way he looked at her. Those blue eyes could really be so warm and tender. She shivered slightly.
"Yes, really." Without thinking Hama put his hand over hers under the table, and Bronwen broke out in goose pimples all over. "I am truly happy that I was given this opportunity to be so close to you," he said. She flushed bright pink at these words.
From his seat, Elfwine noticed his sister's reaction. He grinned to himself. Oh, this is really going well. Before the evening is over, they will both have realised that they are meant for each other. Knowing Hama, he will not back down now. He caught his wife's eyes and smiled. Their little scheme had worked. He cast a look at his father; no, Éomer had not seen anything.
The evening went past in a daze for Bronwen. She hardly noticed what she ate, or drank. All she could think about was Hama's tall body beside her and the way he looked at her. She was certain now that he shared her feelings.
The music started, and the newly wed couple and the parents took the floor as the first. Hama bowed over her hand and asked her smilingly for a dance. They had danced before, but never at such a function. The more traditional dances, which were performed during festivals, did not require dancing closely. This time, when Hama put his arm around her waist, Bronwen shivered slightly. She could feel his warm, large hand through the thin fabric of her gown.
Hama had never felt anything like it; the feeling of having the woman that he loved in his arms almost made his head spin, just as he spun her around the dance floor. At one time he felt his king look at him, but it was only a passing glance before they moved to the other end of the dance floor.
Éomer had noticed his daughter and the captain. "Good thing to see that the little wildcat can enjoy something else besides riding and fencing," he remarked dryly. Lothíriel followed his gaze, and saw the young couple. She had noticed that Hama had been the dinner partner of their daughter, which was certainly not what she had originally planned. She had also noticed the look on her daughter's face. It had dawned on her that it was perhaps not a mistake, and when she saw the smirk on her eldest son's face, she realised that it was neither a mistake, nor a coincidence. Elfwine had most certainly been a party to the "mistake". As she now noticed the look on Hama's face, she realised what was happening between the young couple and made a mental note to speak to Elfwine about it. Obviously her husband was oblivious to what was going on.
"Béma, it is so hot in here," Bronwen remarked as they reached the far end of the hall, quite close to the doors leading out onto the terrace surrounding Meduseld.
"Would you like to have some fresh air," Hama inquired, "we could go out on the terrace?" Bronwen nodded, although she blushed at the thought that Hama would think that she had initiated this on purpose.
She began to explain, but Hama just took her hand. He led her out onto the terrace and they stood for a while looking out over the city of Edoras. Lights all over the city showed that the citizens were celebrating as well.
Bronwen leaned against one of the mighty pillars holding the roof of the Golden Hall. Hama looked at her; her face was flushed from the dancing and the heat in the room and tresses had loosened from the clips, which held her hair from her face. She was beautiful, and – Hama's breath caught in his throat.
He grabbed her shoulders and turned her so that she was facing him. He could feel her shiver, and he was quite sure that it was not from the chill in the air. She looked up at him, and as she did, Hama's arms went around her, drawing her even closer. She closed her eyes as if in anticipation, and Hama could not resist anymore, he kissed her – his friend's little sister, his sovereign's daughter, and it felt better than he had ever imagined.
As soon as he surfaced from the kiss and realised what he was doing, he let go of her. "Sorry," he exclaimed, "I did not mean to ..."
"But I did," Bronwen interrupted him, "I've been wanting you to kiss me – for ever. And I was beginning to think that you would never do it."
"I did not think that you would want me to," Hama said softly, as he caressed her cheek.
"Why shouldn't I want you to? I have loved you since I was a child, didn't you know?"
"I suspected as much, since you never left me out of your sight, but I had never imagined ..." Hama let go of her, but grabbed hold of her hand. "Come, let us go somewhere where we can talk. I trust that someone will find us out here."
Bronwen nodded. "I know where – mama's garden. It is not likely that anybody – at least not my father and mother – will come there tonight." She followed him down the stairs towards the back of the building. He knew as well as she did where the queen's garden was.
The queen's garden had actually been created by Bronwen's great-grandfather Thengel for his Gondorian queen, Morwen of Lossarnach, so that she should not miss the gardens of Minas Tirith too much. Later, Bronwen's mother had extended the gardens to include her herbs and healing plants – and roses, lots of roses.
There were benches hidden among the roses, and Bronwen led Hama to one of them under her mother's favourite white roses. The scent surrounded them as Hama sat down and pulled Bronwen onto his lap. He kissed her softly and she leaned her head against his.
They sat for a while without speaking, both still reeling from their newfound realisation. Hama broke the silence by putting a finger under Bronwen's chin, lifting her face against him. "Bron ... are you sure? I am so much older than you ... and ...I am your brother's friend and ..."
She put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "I have never had any doubts, Hama, except for not being sure whether you felt the same as me, but now that I know that you do ... there is no doubt in my mind." He took her hand and kissed her fingers, one by one. The scent of the roses and of Bronwen was intoxicating, his mind went absolutely blank, and he kissed her again, fervently. Only when he let go of her, he emerged back into reality.
"Bron – oh, Béma be merciful; what about your father. Do you think that he suspects? And do you think that he will consider me a valid suitor to his daughter?" Hama knew the temper of his sovereign better than most – except for the royal children.
Bronwen smiled. "I doubt that he knows, but I am sure that mama does --- and of course Elfwine. This was his doing, the seating arrangements. I caught his grin as he was watching us, and it was a most knowing grin. As for whether father will think you suitable, I am sure that he would not find any man worthy of me ... or indeed my sisters. I remember when Halthain sought Ciera's hand in marriage, although father knew him well, he could not imagine giving his daughter to him. In fact, had Eldarion not been Aragorn's son ..." Bronwen hesitated; she knew that it would not be easy. On the other hand, she was confident that with her older brother and her mother behind her, they had good chances of succeeding - eventually.
She freed herself gently and rose, reaching out a hand to pull up Hama. "We'd better get back to the hall, I am not sure what father will do if he finds out that I am missing and decides to send out a search party." Hama nodded, but pulled her close to steal another kiss before ascending towards the Golden Hall again.
Just before they reached the doors leading into the hall, he bent to kiss her again – and got so wound up in what he was doing that he did not hear someone chuckle behind them. But Bronwen did through the hazes that fogged her mind, and wrenching herself from Hama's embrace, she looked up and found her brother leaning casually against one of the pillars, a knowing smirk on his face.
"I thought that it was better that it was I, who caught you in the act than father," he grinned at his friend. Hama blushed so violently that the colour of his face matched that of his hair. "It has been many a day since I have seen you blush like that, in fact not since ...". The Crown Prince of Rohan was rudely interrupted by his friend.
"Not another word, 'Wine," Hama growled. "But – since it is obviously you that I can thank for this fortune, I shall leave it – for now. Tell me, does the king suspect anything?"
Elfwine shook his head. "No, father is too preoccupied by one of his usual disputes with Gimli to even have noticed that Bronwen is missing. But it won't be long before he does, I am sure of that. And, Bron – I suspect that mother has guessed what is going on; I exchanged a look with her during the feast – and the look on the queen's face led me to believe that she has guessed my part in this. I may have to face the queen's wrath," he chuckled.
Bronwen smiled at the two men. "I am not worried about mother – and I am fairly sure that Hama's parents will be behind us, too – but I am a little concerned about father's reaction. Not for my own sake, but for Hama's. What if papa, in his anger, decides to send him away – or dishonouring him."
Elfwine chuckled. "Well, in his anger he might threaten to– but he is not as bad as that; he will not send Hama away – and he is both fair and just, Bron. He will recognise that you love each other – eventually. However, I do not think that you should parade it in front of him right now. I will follow you inside, Bron – and then Hama can follow us after a while. And – Hama, resume your bachelor ways, drink a lot of ale, dance with Bronwen a couple of times – but don't forget the other ladies. Thus father will not suspect anything."
Hama nodded, but he looked crestfallen at Bronwen. "Believe me, Bron, it will not be easy for me."
Bronwen smiled and clasped his hand. "I know, my love, but we must keep up a charade – for a while."
Hama kissed her hand in response and Elfwine led his little sister into the hall. From her place beside Queen Arwen, he saw that their mother's eyes sought them. He shook his head imperceptibly and led his little sister onto the dance floor. He smiled at his wife who was engaged in a conversation with her father and his grandfather, Imrahil, thinking that his little sister and her man would need all the help they could get from him and his wife, if they were to keep this a secret – at least for some time.
Hama's eyes rested on Bronwen quite a lot that night; he was happy to know that she shared his feelings – but he was wary as to how his king would react. He was not afraid, though, and he was certain that they would find a way – eventually.
--ooo000ooo—
Everything had returned to normal – or as normal as things could be when you had to hide, sneak away and tell little white lies to be with the person you loved. Bronwen and Hama managed to spend time together, even though it meant that they had to sneak out in secret under everybody's noses.
In the end, most of Meduseld knew what was going on – except for the king, but as everybody loved Bronwen – and cherished the young captain, they kept their tongue.
At times it was fairly easy to meet. Bronwen had always gone riding with her brother and his friend, but more often than not, Elfwine excused himself, leaving his little sister to the company of his friend.
Celebrian was also party to the intrigue around the lovers and when she inscribed Bronwen's help with the children, for instance having her take them to the queen's garden, she made sure that the captain of the guard knew, as well.
Queen Lothíriel was not fooled; she had confronted her youngest daughter and Bronwen had confided in her mother. Lothíriel had advised them to let some time pass before they told Éomer, but she also advised them that they should do so eventually, as there was nothing, Éomer hated more than being lied to or kept in the dark about things.
The two young people could also meet in the shelter of Marshal Éothain's house; he and his wife had known for some time in which direction their son's attraction lay. Nobody saw anything suspicious in the fact that Bronwen came for a visit there --- after all, all of the king's children had run in and out of Éothain's house since they learned to walk.
--ooo000ooo—
And so time went by, the young couple had settled into their habit of being together when they could, somehow dreading the day they were actually found out, and still wanting to be found out so that they could be officially together.
Thus, a year later, one early morning, Bronwen was on her way to the stables. Her father and the Royal Guard had been away for several weeks, visiting the Northern villages and borders only arriving back quite late the previous day. She had a feeling that Hama would be in the stables, checking on his horse, and she was longing to see him. She did not expect that her father would be there; although he always went riding quite early in the morning, she presumed that the fact that he, too, had been away from their mother for quite some time, would lead him to spend some time with her this morning.
On the other hand, if indeed he came to the stables, her excuse would be that she meant to go riding with him.
As she entered the royal stables, where also the marshals and captains stabled their horses, she saw the bright red head of her beloved in the dim light. He was tending to his horse and had not seen her. So she crept up on him, leaned against the door of the pen and said huskily. "A typical Rider of Rohan, more occupied with tending to his horse than to seek out his lady love."
Astonished, Hama swung around. "Bron, I didn't ..." and he did not get further before she flung herself around his neck, her lips seeking his. "Oh, how I missed you," he murmured against her lips, pressing her against the wall, his hands roaming her body in the tightly fitting riding costume.
Thus occupied, they did not notice that Éomer King had entered the stables – that is, until they heard him roar.
In his life, Éomer had walked in on several couples using the stables as sanctuary for covert meetings, a fact which had always amused him. On several occasions he had actually used it himself, in the early days of his courtship with Lothíriel – and then as his eyes accustomed themselves to the dim light in the stables, he realised who he had actually walked in on. "Bronwen! What are you doing!" he roared.
The couple let go of each other, and then the king realised who the man was. "Hama – Captain, what are you doing with my daughter? Get your hands off her at once! Bronwen, let go of that man immediately and come with me!"
In his anger, he did not wait to check whether his daughter actually followed him as he stomped out of the stables up towards the Golden Hall.
--ooo000ooo—
After the initial shock and uproar, the king had eventually agreed to their betrothal. And when the Crown Prince and his family had returned from their visit to Minas Tirith, messengers were sent out to announce the wedding of the king's youngest daughter to the eldest son of his most trusted friend and marshal and to summon family and friends to participate in the event.
The evening before the wedding, Bronwen slipped into her father's study. Éomer was standing at the window, looking out over the city. He had his back to her and had obviously not noticed that she had entered the room. She looked at her father, although close to sixty, he was still a handsome man. His long, blond mane was only slightly touched by grey and his body, although more sturdy than in his youth, was still trimmed and fit.
She made a small sound and Éomer turned towards his daughter. "Oh, it's you, Bron. Getting nervous, are you?" He said with a smile.
"No, papa. Not exactly nervous, I just wanted to see you," Bronwen said.
The king gestured towards the window seat, "Come, lass, sit down and tell me what is on your mind."
They sat down and Éomer took his daughter's hand. "I know that you are not disappearing out of our lives," he began.
"No, hardly, papa. We are only moving 100 yards down the hill," Bronwen laughed, "and we will be seeing each other every day. It's not like Ciera." Ciera and her husband lived at Aldburg, at least a day's ride from Edoras.
"You know what I mean. From tomorrow, you will be Hama's wife, his responsibility and must live his life. I am only your father and should mind my own business."
Bronwen laughed. "As if ..., please papa. Nothing will change – except for the fact that I will be a married woman – and that is as it should be. I am happy, papa, believe me."
"I know that you are --- and Hama is a good man. I know that – I have known his father most of my life, and Hama is just like him. It is just difficult to face the fact that you are all grown up now, and not my little girl anymore."
"I knew that you would eventually prefer him to some southern lord – or some young pup, who would haul me away to the Westfold or worse - Gondor," Bronwen chuckled. "And I had to grow up sometime, didn't I?"
Éomer knew that his daughter was right; he would have hated to see her leave Edoras and travel to far away places. He grinned at her. "You know best that the reason for my reservations had to do with the fact that Hama is a man very much like me --- and I know how ...", he stopped himself before he said too much.
"Say no more, papa," his daughter giggled. "Mama has already given me that speech. Now I must go, I have a million things to. Thank you for the talk."
"Now, don't you try to sneak out and see your betrothed. You are not allowed until tomorrow." The king growled.
"Of course not, what do you take me for, papa. Uncle Amrothos has told me how you and mama were always abiding the rules .." Bronwen giggled as she withdrew from her father's presence.
"Remind me to talk to your uncle later ..." Éomer shook his head, but he could not help smiling.
Later that night, Lothíriel knocked on the door to the room where her daughter was presently residing, the room which all three girls had once shared. "This was once your aunt's room," she remarked as she entered. "I know, mama, and one day it will be the room of Elfwine's daughters," Bronwen replied. She was sitting on her bed, and the queen went and sat down beside her, taking her daughter's hand.
"I know that we have already talked about – well just about everything," the queen said, "and your sisters have probably filled in the rest, but is there anything you want to talk to me about, concerning tomorrow night?"
"No, mama. I am not nervous, I can hardly wait until tomorrow. I trust Hama and know that he will be gentle with me when the time comes. In fact," she added blushingly, "I am looking forward to our wedding night, the last couple of months have been sheer hell for both of us."
Lothíriel laughed. "Oh, my daughter. You are so much like your father – and your older sister for that matter. Just like you to say something like that." She kissed her daughter's cheek and got up. "Goodnight, my dearest daughter. Sleep well and dream of your man, tomorrow it will be a reality."
"Goodnight, mama," Bronwen replied with a big and happy smile.
The queen crossed the corridor to the chambers, she shared with her husband. As she entered, she remembered the first time, Éomer and she had entered this room, Éomer carrying his bride, and as she crossed the sitting room towards their bedroom and through the door saw her husband in bed waiting for her, she smiled. It still induced her with the same feeling when she looked at her husband. Even after all these years, he could still make her knees buckle. She understood her daughter.
"You are not asleep," she said, as she walked into the room untying the belt on her robe, slinging it over a chair.
"No, should I be?" her husband said, one eyebrow quizzically raised.
"You keep complaining that you are old and tired," Lothíriel said teasingly as she shook loose her hair and jumped into bed beside her husband.
"I'll show you old and tired," Éomer growled as he got hold of her and held her in a tight grip, nibbling on her neck. Lothíriel giggled. "And on the night before your youngest daughter's wedding, my Lord, remember your status and your age ..."
"Then you should not taunt me, wife," the king growled as he shut her mouth with a kiss.
--ooo000ooo—
Bronwen was already in bed when she heard a slight tap on her window. She giggled; she knew exactly who it was. She got up and opened the window – Hama heaved himself in his arms and swung in through the window to stand on the floor.
"You are not supposed to be here," Bronwen whispered.
"I know," Hama grinned, "but I decided that I would uphold the tradition of a Rohirrim bridegroom and steal a few minutes with my bride-to-be before the wedding. I won't stay for long, your brothers might be suspicious. I sneaked out under the pretence of having to relieve myself." He grinned. Bronwen knew well that her brothers, cousins and a couple of the other younger men had planned a night of ale-drinking before the wedding – in order to initiate the new bridegroom – or rather making sure that he had a hangover on the day of his wedding. She was, however, confident that her husband-to-be would hold his own against her brothers.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently. "I cannot really believe that come tomorrow, we shall never sleep apart. I have been looking forward to this day for a very long time – and I just wanted to say goodnight to you, breaking rules or not."
He kissed her a second time – a bit more forcefully, let her go reluctantly – and then disappeared out of the window. As she closed the window behind him, watching him leave, he turned and smiled at her.
Bronwen woke quite early the next morning; she smiled sleepily to herself as she remembered what day it was. It was strange to think that this was the last morning that she would awake in her own bed; from tonight she would be moving into her own house, together with the man she loved and from then on share his bed, in which she would also give birth to their children. She felt a flush rise in her cheeks as she envisaged what was going to happen.
"Bron, get a grip of yourself," she said to herself, as she lay back in the pillows. Her sisters and sisters-in-law had given her strict instructions that she was to stay in bed until they came and got her.
She must have fallen asleep again, because suddenly she was awoken by the cheerful voice of her oldest sister, Théodwyn. "Time to get up, little sister. It is a beautiful day and your groom awaits you!" Bronwen opened her eyes and saw her sisters, followed by the wives of her brothers.
"Now it is time to pamper the bride," Celebrian said. "The traditional bath has been prepared for you, and our mothers have contributed with all of their herbs and oils, making sure that you will be like a water nymph before we are through with you."
"But first we need to get some food down you, we would not have you faint from hunger tonight," Ciera, always the practical one, said. She put down the tray she had been carrying. "Béordlin has prepared a special breakfast for you and told me to make sure that you actually ate it," she said smilingly.
Bronwen got up and sat down at the table in the room in her nightgown. She looked at the tray. "It looks delicious," she said, and suddenly felt hungry. "I am hungry," she said, "although I was expecting not to be."
"Ha," her older sister said, "I am not surprised, you are like father and Théodred, you can always eat."
The others laughed and Bronwen poured some tea into a mug. "You are probably right, dear sister, and why waste good food?" She helped herself to a slice of newly baked bread and some honey, obviously enjoying herself.
After the breakfast, the other women led her into the adjacent room where a large tub with steaming water waited for her. A scent of wild roses filled the air. Théodwyn and Ciera helped their little sister get out of the nightgown and into the tub. Bronwen felt a little self-conscious being surrounded by so many other women when she was taking a bath, but she soon relaxed in the hot, soothing water.
"Lean back your head, little sister, and I will wash your hair," Ciera said, and Bronwen did so, obligingly.
After the bath, they made sure to dry her blonde, thick hair thoroughly and get her into a sheer shift, which she was to wear under her wedding dress.
The other women helped her get into the dress and when Bronwen saw herself in the mirror, she could hardly believe that she could really look that beautiful. As a proper daughter of Rohan, she was dressed in white, gold and green – the golden belt, which was the traditional garter of the Rohirrim ladies of royalty and the hair of the bride constituting the golden element.
Queen Lothíriel entered the room and Bronwen turned towards her mother. "Will I do, mama?" she asked.
Lothíriel smiled at her daughter. "You look beautiful, Bron. You will do. Your father is waiting to take you to the hall," she added, as she kissed her daughter.
A short tap on the door confirmed her words. The door opened and the King of Rohan entered. On his head the crown and around his shoulders his long cape with the insignia of Rohan. "Are you ready, daughter?" he asked, his voice husky from emotion. She nodded. Éomer took her hand and let his lips brush the knuckles.
"You are beautiful, Bron. I am proud of you." She smiled at her father, tears welling in her eyes.
And thus the king led his youngest daughter into the hall where the groom waited. Tall and manly he looked, the young captain of the Royal Guard in the green, gold and white of Rohan, he as well. As he took the hand of his bride, a smile lit up his features, and the look in their eyes told the people gathered to witness the ceremony, that this was, indeed, a match well made. Obviously, there was much love between these two.
After the ceremony binding the two young people together, the inevitable Rohirric feast followed, and much later in the evening after many speeches, toast after toast, and the traditional dances, the young couple finally had time to sit down together. Bronwen leaned her head against her husband's shoulder and sighed.
He bent his head and kissed her forehead. "What is it, my love?"
"I so wish that we could escape this – and finally be alone .." Bronwen whispered.
"So do I," Hama smiled, "so do I – but I need a plan – to escape this crowd."
The bride's two older brothers closed in on them. "Oh, really. What now?" Bronwen sighed.
"Nothing, dearest sister," Elfwine grinned. "Haldred and I just thought ... well, that you and your husband would perhaps like to escape now. I know how you must be feeling by now. I remember that I could not wait ..."
"We know that well, dear brother, we were there," Haldred interrupted grinningly. "Come, we have a plan. The girls will create a diversion and we will sneak you out of here ..."
And so they did. Théodwyn, Iolia and Ciera managed to get most of the room, young as old, involved in a traditional dance and under cover of this commotion, getting all the people onto the floor and arranged in the proper line up, Elfwine and Haldred led the newlyweds by an escape route to their new home – a house some hundred yards down the hill from the Golden Hall.
When they reached the front door without being followed, Elfwine kissed his little sister's cheek and slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Now, enjoy yourselves, you two ... and remember, it will never be the same after the wedding night." He grinned. "And, Hama – if you need advice from an expert, now is the time to get it."
Haldred shook his head. "Don't mind him, he's probably had too much ale." He grabbed hold of his older brother and started hauling him up the hill. "Don't worry, we'll keep everybody away." He, too, grinned at them. "Good night – and, ... no, I won't say anything ..." he said as he followed his brother.
Hama took his wife in his arms. "Luckily I have known those two longer than I care to remember." He kissed her. "And I have so longed to be alone with you."
He scooped her up in his arms. "And now to bed, wife."
"A true Rohirrim." Bronwen giggled as she let herself be carried into the house. She had spent the last couple of months decorating the house together with her mother and Hama's mother, but it looked somehow differently now.
Only a couple of candles lit up their bedroom. Somebody – Bronwen presumed that it was her sisters – had laid down the bed and set a tray with wine, fruit and cakes on the table in the room. A fire was burning in the fireplace and the scent of several flowers filled the room.
Hama let her down. He kissed her again, this time softly and languidly. His voice was husky, as he said "Do you want some privacy to get ready for bed, my love?"
She shook her head. "No, I want you here, close to me." She put her arms around his neck and moulded herself against him.
Hama shivered. He was experienced, as she was not, and he had voiced this concern, although slightly hesitantly, to his best friend. Elfwine, although the older brother of the bride-to-be, had assured Hama that it would be alright. He had felt the same concern when marrying Celebrian.
And as Hama felt his young wife mould against him and felt her kisses, the anxiety melted away and he just gave into the sensation, as he started untying the laces on her dress.
--ooo000ooo—
Back in the hall, Elfwine caught his father's eyes. He nodded imperceptibly and smiled. Éomer shook his head. So that what all this dancing had been about. He might have known that his sons would have something up their sleeves to ease the departure of the newlyweds. He grinned. Well, they would not be his sons if they had not. He went up to his wife who was watching their youngest son as he manoeuvred one of his cousins round the dance floor. He put his arm around her.
"So, wife, only one to go. And I trust that it will be some time before this one will settle down."
Lothíriel looked at her husband. "Aye, husband. Indeed I think that you are right, although you never know with that boy. Have they left?" she asked.
"Aye, that was why Théodwyn went to so much trouble to start the dancing – and having everybody, even Aragorn, participating. It was simple battle strategy thought out – presumably by our second son – to allow the bride and groom to escape to their marital bliss." He paused for a moment. "This, indeed, sounds strange to say such a thing as it is our youngest daughter, I am talking about."
Lothíriel pulled at him. "Come, let us get some fresh air, I think that you need that."
They went out onto the terrace, overlooking the city. Éomer put his arm around his wife and she leaned against him. "Let us hope that they will be as happy as we have been," she said.
"Have been," Éomer quipped. "I certainly hope that we still are, my Lady."
She basked at him. "Ah, you know what I mean, you old lug."
He crushed her against him. "Aye, I do know. And I am certain that they will. He is a good man – and she will make sure that they are – happy, I mean. She is so like her mother – in so many ways. Not that it will be a smooth road that they are heading out on ..."
"No, she is too much her father's daughter for that," Lothíriel smiled.
They remained standing there for a while looking out over the city, until Lothíriel reminded her husband that they still had a lot of guests to attend to and that everything would probably be alright in the house down the hill and that they did not need to keep watch.
"Keep watch, no such thing ..." Éomer said with a grin, "I just wanted to see whether they had turned out the lights ..."
"Really, Éomer." Lothíriel could not help laughing as she pulled her lord and master into the hall to join their friends and guests.
In the small house down the hill, Hama and Bronwen was lost to the world – and Hama's concerns proved needless, as he heard Bronwen's breathless, "Oh, this was – ohh ...
The End
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