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Wingwoman
By Theolyn
Day
Training Camp
All her life, she'd wanted nothing but this. Her muscles screamed with effort as she parried a blow to her midsection. Eyes bleary with exhaustion, she focused upon her opponent, watching, reacting, moving without thinking. She did not hear the clash of her sword upon that of her enemy. She did not smell the scent of her own bitter sweat, nor the faint tang of blood from her wounds. She did not notice when the battles around her stilled one by one. She only knew that with each step of this dance she was one step closer to her destiny. This, battle, the next, it did not matter. She kept her dream firmly in her sights, and fought every step as if the balance of her future depended on it.
So great was her focus, so complete her commitment to the battle, that she did not even notice the passage of her sovereign. She did not sense his wise blue eyes upon her, or hear his whispered word to her captain, "Enough."
Morning
The white city
Two days later, Lillywyn rose before dawn. She knew something of the Elven magicks, and had used them to heal the deepest of her wounds. Her muscles however, were not so forgiving, and, as usual, they protested being wrenched from their rest. So it was gently that she stretched them, moving with lithe grace about the small space of her quarters. One by one she addressed each of her body's complaints, until her joints felt loose and limber, and she could once again feel each muscle answer her command. Today, she would don the silks and satins of the court, and, disguised as a lady-in-waiting, embark upon her service to the crown. She was finally a woman of the wings; and her life, from this day forth, would be forever changed.
Lillywyn left her quarters just as the sun was cresting the horizon, and was only mildly surprised to see the great lady Eowyn waiting for her in the shadows. For five years, Eowyn had been her captain and her mentor. For five years, she had been a friend. And yet, as she stood waiting quietly, Lillywyn was uncomfortably aware that this woman was the same woman who had disguised herself as a man to ride onto the battlefields of Pelleanor. Here was the great legend who had, with her sword, ended the evilest of the Nazgul. Her joints had stiffened, and the gold had given to gray in her hair, but Eowyn was still lovely, in the way of trees in autumn, and from her eyes shone a compassion that had been hard-earned indeed.
Though Lilly had trained under Eowyn's gaze for long years, never had their talk strayed from the matter at hand. And so it was shocking to Lilly when Eowyn took her hand, and spoke, not of battlecraft, or of lessons or training, but of more personal matters.
"I knew your mother, Lilly. She was a wonderful warrior. So proud to be on the battlefield, so proud to serve her liege. You remind me of her, you know. Not in form or face, but in bearing. And in Heart." Eowyn's eyes were distant now, focusing on an object just out of Lilly's line of sight.
"I was with her on her last day, you know, when all was chaos and the end was so very certain. And I saw her make her choice. When the moment came, and she took the arrow meant for her king, she did so with dignity, and a courage that has become rare as our times have grown easy with peace.
"I have long considered it my duty to train you as she would have." At this the silken tones of her voice cracked a bit, and then steadied. "She was a friend, Lilly. Do not forget in your passion for your duty that you have need of a friend or two. And know that come what may, you are welcomed at my hearth until my heart's last beating." At that Eowyn lifted her powdered lips to Lilly's cheek. "I could not be prouder of you, if you were my own child. Go forth in light, my daughter."
Without further words, the lady Eowyn slipped once again into shadows, and was gone.
Morning
The Great Hall of Gondor
Ellessar. Though he was well into his second century, he was hale and hearty, the blood of the Dunedain running strong with youth through his veins, mocking the shadow of gray that streaked his hair. To Lilly, he looked just as he had in her childhood, when, newly orphaned, Lillywyn had fancied the King as a father to her. He was safe, he was strong, and seemed as permanent as the throne before which she now bowed.
But though the years had passed, and though she had spoken with him on occasion during her training, neither familiarity nor the passage of time had dulled the deep well of love she felt for this man. He was everything that she believed in, and to serve him, his family, his country, was the honor she had hoped for her entire life.
As if reading her thoughts, Ellessar chuckled, a wry smile playing beneath his greying beard, "Good Morning to you, Dawn Lilly. I welcome you to the hall of your service. Your tutors speak well of your wit, and I myself have seen your skill with the sword. I have watched your training with fist and axe and arrow. And, of course, I knew your mother well."
His face darkened for a moment, and Lillywyn imagined that she saw several lifetimes of grief in his eyes. But the moment ended, and he regarded her closely.
"You have her nose, I'd say. But you're quite a bit taller than she was, with darker hair and eyes. You are leaner, as well, more delicate. One might even say that in this light, Lilly, you have the look of a ranger. How old are you now?"
"I am two and twenty, my liege. And yes, I'm told that my sire was of your kin, one who passed through the kingdom during the rebuilding. My mother told me he was light of foot and swift of sword, and that they danced joyfully for several weeks before he slipped away again like a cat into the night."
"Humm," Aragorn said, thoughtfully rubbing his beard, "that does indeed sound like my kinsmen, though we do not easily as a rule conceive children. Did your mother mention your sire's name to you?"
"No, my liege." Lilly smiled ruefully, "I think she liked to pretend that I sprung from her without a man's intervention."
Aragorn chuckled. "That does indeed sound like Teolyn. What a strange and wonderful woman she was. I am doubly pleased to have her daughter in my service. She would be proud indeed to know of the path you have chosen. In her memory, may you walk it with great happiness.
"Few are those who understand what it is that you undertake today, and fewer still those who will give you the credit that you deserve. While I have been taught by long experience never to underestimate the sword in a woman's hand, no matter how delicate its appearance, there are many who will overlook you, at their peril. Thus, you are the final defense of my family, a pledge that I trust you will keep always. " Saying this he pulled his sword from its scabbard, and with no other warning hurtled it down, stopping a mere hairsbreadth from Lillywin's head.
Lillywin did not draw her sword in defense, nor did she move, she simply stood, her eyes a well of emotion, and gazed upon her king.
"You are my liege," Lilly uttered, her face passive and still, "If it is your will that I should die, then happily will I go to distant shores. But if it is your will that I should live, then I shall do so in your service, and to the end of my days."
Ellessar, his handsome face as still as marble, lowered his blade, and said to Lillywyn, "Then give me your oath."
And so Lillywyn, daughter of Teolyn, kneeled before him, and took her oath, just as her mother had, to place no duty above her duty to the throne, to spare no life in the fulfillment of her trust, and to loyally serve her sovereigns to the ends of her days.
And Ellessar, his hands still steady and strong, looked at her gravely, gave her thanks, gripped her shoulder, and called her friend.
It was the proudest moment of her life.
The days at her post were many, and for Lillywyn they were joyous. The wingwomen were a small society, but they were carefully chosen to handle the rigors of their full lives. Their bodies were kept battle-ready through daily practice at arms. Their minds sharpened by studies of literature and song. They studied Elven magic, as well as human healing, and learned the secrets of the herbs of the countryside. They lived simply, but their freedoms were, to Lillywyn, compensation enough. And most importantly, there was the sacred trust, the time spent in the company of the King and Queen. For though the times were sweet, and the fields ripe with food and bounty, discontent as always simmered in evil hearts, and many were the occasions when someone sought to end the life of the King of Men.
When her turn came to sit in attendance on the King, Lillywyn observed silently. He kept his own council, though he always had a warm word or a kind glance for those in his service. It often seemed to Lillywyn that though the crown sat easily upon his head, Ellessar was never at rest in the great hall. He was ever happier in the fields of his country, or riding through the mountains than he was with matters of state in his hall of marble. But abroad he was no longer in Lillywyn's care, so she treasured the moments when her liege endured the requirements of his office upon the throne.
When her turn came to sit with the Queen, it was a different venture. Though she too liked to wander the countryside, and never so much as in the company of her love, Arwen was also quite at ease in the quarters of her home, and it was there that she was most often under Lillywyn's watch. It seemed to Lillywyn that the Queen had great interest in her, and at length, she had told the Queen quite the story of her dreams, her lineage, and the mere 22 years of her life.
What a woman of millennium could find of interest in her brief lifespan was baffling to Lilly. And yet, she sensed the interest of her Queen was deep and true, and she loved her all the more for it.
Queen Arwen, for her part, told many stories from her thousands of life-years. It was as if she took comfort in the friendship herself. She even shared that which she hid from her beloved, the long grief she held for her departed people, and her never-ending ache for her Ada. And so, between the wingwoman and her Queen over swift months grew the warm familiarity of kin, and a warm affection that many would call love.
At length the word traveled over plain and mountain that the mighty king Eomer of Rohan had succumbed to the forces of age and infirmity. This sadness was to be mourned, but he had lived a proud life, and would be eagerly welcomed among the ranks of his departed fathers.
And while there was grief, there was also great joy, as Eomer's eldest son, Eowyl, long captain of the riddenmark and friend of the house of Ellesar, was to ascend to the throne. He was of good age for the task, skilled, and well regarded, and the people were joyous to once again have a king hale and hearty.
And so, as was the custom of the time, the monarchs of every nation set forth for the coronation, and among them the host of Gondor. The night before departure, it was Lilly's turn to be at waiting with her queen.
"You are," Lillywn said, as she struggled to unbutton her lady's dress, "as fidgety as a child this evening." These delicate tasks of dressing and undressing were traditionally seen to by a lady's maid, but Arwen preferred Lilly's company, and so Lilly did her best to see this smallest part of her duty done. "What, dearest Lady if I may ask, is it that has you so?"
"Why, we ride for Rohan, Lilly," she said, with longing in her voice. "Long since has my son Eldarion been fostered in the house of Eomer. He has been there for a score of years, and though I know it to be a good custom for a future king, I find that my heart has ached for him without end. I long to see his face with my own eyes. I fear that he has passed into manhood since ere I saw him. Are you not done with those dratted buttons?"
"Ah hah," came a booming and joyful voice behind them as Ellesar strode into the room. "Here is my beautiful lady…are we ready for the morning? Thrilling for open sky and travel? Ready for adventure, and fresh air and freedom? Ready to see a certain young prince of Gondor?"
And Lilly felt the fabric torn from her fingers as Arwen with a cry of glee rushed the length of the room and into her lover's arms. "How fast can you ride, man-child, for my horse shall be fast on the planes indeed."
The king laughed as he pulled her into his arms, "As fast" he said, burying his hands in her endless brown hair, "as the moon beams across the plane. We leave at first light." And with those words, the King of Men dropped his lips to his wife's in an embrace so soft and loving that Lilly's heart ached at the sight. When they parted, the Queen laughed and whispered to her lover, and the two of them joined hands, and walked united into their chambers.
As the door closed behind them, Lillywyn said softly "And I will ride, my lady, as swiftly as you ride, for I would not be parted from you or from my lord." And though her words were formal, there was true emotion behind them.
Evening
Edoras
The party arrived at the city well past the fall of eventide on the sixth day. As always when traveling, the royal party were simply dressed, with decoys riding before them in royal garb. It was simply too difficult to defend at a distance against a well-placed arrow otherwise. So Lillywyn had ridden in the simple skirts of her youth, with none of the silks and satins of her recent life. And though she loved the task of journeying across mountain and plain, she was weary of grime, and looked forward to removing it from her hair and hands.
When the decoys were taken to a lavish apartment, and the true Queen and King were settled in a more secure location, and hawk-eyed Wyllith had taken their charge, Lillywin decided to forgo the small washbasin in her shared quarters, and head instead to the river to wash the travel from her face and hair. It was a warm night, and she hoped to find the river unoccupied so that she might strip to the skin and feel once again, fully clean. She knew it was a mildly foolish errand, but nonetheless, the river called to her, and strapping on a small dagger at her waist, she slipped into the night.
She descended from the city, and passed the guards of the mark. One of them asked her her business, but seeing the clip of her rank at her cloak, quickly gave her leave. And so, she stretched her legs into a lope, and headed for the faint sound of water.
She had just sighted the river when she noted two men at the water's edge. Her sharp eyes took their measure even at a distance. Young, relaxed, and careless, two young men sitting with their boots off. They were dressed in the vestments of nobility, and had a bottle of wine between them, but their swords were sheathed, and their attention was deep in their own conversation. Still, Lilly gave them a wide berth as she made for a more secluded spot.
But apparently, the berth was not quite wide enough, for she caught the attention of one of the men. She heard his jogging steps approaching , and so stopped, and turned to face him.
"And where do you go, pretty lady in the moonlight?" He huffed, for he was barely able to keep body weaving about on his legs. But despite his imbibement, or perhaps because of it, the lechery of his gaze was clear. Lilly all but groaned at the inconvenience this would undoubtedly cause.
She glanced at the drunk's companion. He was the older of the two, and he approached slowly. Lilly noted that though his body was relaxed, and his sword arm casual, his eyes were sharp indeed. That one, she thought, was not harmless at all, and certainly warranted a wary step. For though women in the court were treated with respect, a maiden wandering outside the city walls at night would best use great care and caution.
She kept her voice courteous, all the while shifting into a better stance for defensive movement. "I go to the river, milords" she said, widening the distance between them, "as it is free to all people. Prey let me pass unhindered."
"Ah," slurred the drunken one, "passage is free, yes, but not safe terrain for a small swallow such as you." He abruptly moved closer to her, and grasped a meaty hand upon her arm. "I shall happily escort you to the river."
"You will find, my lord, that this swallow," she said, sweeping his unsteady legs out from beneath him, and moving a quick dagger to his side, "is not without talons."
A merry burst of laughter came from the man's companion, and the sound of it, more than the dagger in her hand, lightened Lilly's heart. It was an honest, pleasant sound, with neither trace of alcohol nor lascivious intent to mar its purity. "Do not gut Marcus, my lady," the man called, "though I have no doubt that in some respect he deserves it. While I can see that you can safeguard your own passage, I do think he only meant to protect you from harm. He is a fool, yes, and he greatly appreciates a comely woman, but he is harmless, I assure you."
His feline eyes scanned Lilly and she felt fully measured, just as if he taken her weight in a glance. It was not a comforting feeling, but it was an interesting one, and Lilly found herself wondering about the man before her. He stepped out of the shadows, and the light hit upon his handsome form. "You, lady she-hawk," he said, smiling wrily, "are far from harmless, and I shall give you a wide berth lest you upend me for misbehavior."
And though Lilly greatly doubted that this one would fall so easily prey to her skills, she appreciated the twinkling amusement in his eyes, and favored him with a smile. She released his friend, said, "Then I and my talons shall give safe passage to your friend here," she said, releasing the drunkard and stepping quickly out of his groping range "and we shall both go about our own tasks. Good Eventide."
"Good Eventide to you oh taloned-one, and I hope our paths cross again in calmer circumstances." Lilly nodded her head, then turned and ran on into the night.
"Good thing you do not smile like that often, pretty lady," Eldarion said unto the darkness, "for that is a weapon farm more deadly than the knife at your waist. Come there, Marcus, let us get you home before you lose the contents of your stomach on our new King's front lawn."
Day
Edoras
The coronation festivities began the following day with a tournament at arms. Though the competition was spirited, matches were fought with dull blades to keep the competitive from marring the joy of the day.
Lillywyn had chosen to compete in the swordplay, and had fought well, defeating soldier after soldier. As the day progressed, her opponents got ever better, until at last there were only two dozen fighters left on the battlefield, and she the only woman.
The courtyard was encircled by revelers and those already defeated. In the tradition of the day, those vanquished by Lilly's sword formed a cadre at her side, cheering on her progress as she approached her next opponent. He came, with his cadre. He was wearing not only the colors of Rohan, but also the sigil of the king's champion. And though his helmet obscured most of his features, there was no mistaking the feral blue eyes.
"Well, taloned-one. We meet again."
Lillywyn could not help herself from laughing. It was the older of the two companions from the night before. How strange that in a tournament of hundreds, they would meet sword to sword.
"Yes, and this time, I don't have your drunken friend to practice upon. Will you feel my blade, do you think?"
The blue eyes laughed, and his rich warm voice said "I hope so, my lady, I hope so."
And so, the crowd formed a circle, and Lilly and Eldarion faced off. It was a good fight, and a long one, the longest of their round. They were evenly matched, and first one would gain the upper hand, and then the other, but never far enough to disarm the other.
But the long journey had done Lillywyn no favors, and at length her strength began to weaken, and a moment's misstep gave her opponent his opening, and he stripped her of his weapon, and landed her unceremoniously on the ground.
Great cheers went out from his side of the crowd, and applause from hers, for the match had been a good one.
Eldarion reached a hand down to his opponent. "Are you injured, my lady?"
"Only a bruising of my ego, I'm afraid," Lillywyn said, reaching his hand. As she grasped it, she hooked her ankle behind his, and gave him arm a quick push. The result was to dump him rather ignominiously into the mud by her side. "Now I feel much better thank you."
A great roar of appreciation went up from the crowd. Eldarion looked up from his sprawl at the dirty warrior beside him. Her laughing brown eyes met his, and he couldn't stop himself from joining in the merriment. When Lilly gained her feet, and offered him her hand, he thought of returning the favor, but thought the better of it, instead accepting her aid.
Lilly raised an eyebrow, and, as if reading his mind, said. "Good choice. Now champion-man, win this tourney so that my ego will be further salved."
Evening
Edoras
That evening, Lillywyn did not ease her tired body into bed. Instead, she took an ewer of water, and carefully washed the day's dust from her face and legs. There were welts on each of her thighs, which would be bruises by morning, but on the whole, she had escaped the tournament with minimal damage. Her duties had been short on substance, and long on merriment. In short, it had been a good day.
With slow hands she rubbed herbed oil over her skin, feeling the tender places, inhaling the pungent scent of rosemary. Such a strange and wonderful place the city was now. There were delegations from every land, and the plentiful food and drink had put everyone in good spirits. Though she maintained a careful vigilance, she'd found no hint of danger in the crowds, no intrigue that concerned her. In such noble company, her King and Queen had garnered no great share of the attention, and for that she was grateful.
She ran her strong hands through her hair, releasing it from the tight circlets of her braids. In a fight, it was a thick, blinding curtain. But in the moonlight, it was glorious, gleaming down her back like new copper. It had been many months since she had worn it down in public. But she would not be fighting tonight. It was only as she reached for a clean dress from her carrisack that she realized what she was doing. She was not preparing herself for further duty, nor for a night's rest. She was preparing herself as a woman prepares for a man.
The thought was somewhat of a shock to her. She was not a maiden, but she had never considered herself a passionate creature, preferring instead to keep her own company. But here she was, undeniably preparing herself to meet her cat-eyed warrior. With mere days left in their stay, he would soon be only a memory for her, a fond encounter in a distant land. She realized that she did not want to waste the opportunity.
Many were the wingwomen who took lovers; it was an accepted part of the culture. As a rule, they did so discretely, using their knowledge of herb lore to avoid illness, and untimely conception. And when the latter was unsuccessful, a wingwoman's child was easily fostered, so it was no grave consequence to seek pleasure in the arms of a kind stranger.
But there were, Lillywyn knew, greater dangers to taking a lover, dangers that were not so easily remedied. Woe was the wingwoman who allowed her heart to love. For once love entered her life, she must, by force, renounce her charge, for nothing was to exceed the precedence of one's duty to king and country. But she and her party were set to depart in less than a week, and so, she reasoned, her heart would remain safe and untouched.
So thinking, she slipped her cloak over her shoulders, and headed out beyond the city gates.
Night
Edoras
Eldarion sat in his spot beneath the ramparts and waited. Waiting was an art for him, he was trained in it from birth. For him, there would be no coronation in his youth. If all went well, his father would wear the crown for another hundred years, and though he did not begrudge that, it was an awkward life to be so long the heir.
But tonight his thoughts were not of kingship, nor of the throne. Tonight his thoughts were back on the practice field, and the strange moment when he realized his female opponent, while no match for his strength or the length of his arm, was his equal at craft and skill. And though he had won in the end, it had not been easy, and the smallest inattention on his part would have lost the day.
He thought too of her face after the match. More attractive than any khole or rouge was the dust on her cheeks and the sparkle of her eyes. Her practice jerken and warrior's pants were more alluring than the heaviest brocade. Even her clunky boots held more mystique than a lady's slippered foot. And she had dumped him on his rear. He laughed out loud at the memory. Had she known how arousing he would find her irreverence, he had no doubt that she would never have so indulged herself.
He sat, at the ramparts, by the path to the river, and savored the details of the day. Perhaps, he hoped, she would tire of the banquet, and would pass this way again.
And that is how Lillywyn found him, a warm smile playing upon his face, thinking about her.
"Ho there," she called, startling him from his revelry. "Has the tournament winner nothing better to do than loiter outside the walls of his city? Should he not be inside with his King at the winner's feast?"
"Oh, there you are, she-hawk." Eldarion smiled lazily at her. His body appeared relaxed, but for it having gone very still.
"There will be many feasts ahead of me, I'm sure, and Eowyl will not begrudge me the freedoms of the night. He knows that I far prefer the view here at the riverpath to the silks and satins in the court. And how is your ego feeling this eventide?"
Lilly laughed and rubbed at her backside. "Bruised a bit, but it will mend, my lord, it will mend. It has been a long time since someone bested me at games."
"I would believe that, milady. You have great skill with the blade. But it's good to lose, from time to time, for all of us. It keeps us from complacency. And it was a very near thing, you know, my closest match of the day."
Lilly smiled. "I know. I may yet ask you for a rematch. When I am not travel weary, we shall see who will first lose their sword. But glad I am indeed that you won the day."
He stood, and offered her his arm. She linked hers with his, and they set off for the river. When, at length one of them spoke, it was Eldarion who broke the silence.
"So, taloned-one, what is it that brings you outside the city tonight. Why are you not at the feasting, or at the very least sleeping the weariness from your bones? Are you searching for another drunkard to skewer?"
Lilly chuckled, and kept her eyes on the path ahead of them. "I hope you'll forgive me if I speak clearly, for I know nothing of the games of court. I came here tonight looking for you, my lord. I had hope that I would find you out here, and that I might bring my weariness to you rather than my cold bed. " She flushed at her own words, but her voice did not falter. "Was I wrong to seek you out?"
Eldarion was surprised at how touching he found her directness. He was a comely man, and would someday be king, so this was hardly the first time a woman had boldly sought his affections. But this was, he felt, somehow different. This was no courtly sophisticate, no woman of free virtue. This woman was a shieldmaiden, a warrior, a woman who had chosen the way of the sword as her path. She did not know him as king. But she came to him anyway, seeking warmth in the arms of one she saw as her equal and friend.
He could not deny the appeal that she had for him. He knew himself better than to try such subterfuge. But he did know that this joining was most likely not a wise one. One of them would surely leave this embrace hurt, and for the first time in his life, he was not entirely sure which one of them. But his body had ideas of its own, and as he was contemplating his decision, his arms drew her closer, and his face came to rest on her shoulder. Her long, muscled body yielded, molding easily to his, and her hair smelled warmly of chamomile and rosemary.
"No, my she-hawk, you were not wrong to seek me out. For I have been here, thinking of you, and hoping that you would come to me."
Her hands cupped each side of his face, and she drew him closer. Eldarion halted her, and said, with his last rational thought, "My lady, are you sure about what you offer me? For I can give you no oaths."
She looked at him and her warm eyes smiled. "I can give no oaths as well. And I ask none of you. I ask only to spend the night in your arms."
She pressed her soft lips to his, and every protest in his mind fled away. "Then come, let us not lose a moment of this night."
Morning
Edoras
"So tell me, little bird, to where did you fly last night?"
Shocked, Lilly looked up from her work and straight into the wise eyes of her queen.
"What do you mean my lady?"
Arwen laughed. "Don't 'my lady' me, Lilly. Word has reached my ears that you have not slept in your quarters for three days now. And I am not so old that I have forgotten the look of a maid who has been well tended in the night. Now come on, and tell me who has stolen my favorite bird from her bower."
Lilly moved quickly from shock to embarrassment to delight. If there was anyone with whom she could share this, it was her Queen. And so, she took Arwen's outstretched hands, and, dancing a little, pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Well," laughed Arwen warmly, "I see that my intuition is not mistaken. Who is he?"
"He's the champion of Rohan. He bested me on the battlefield, and though he is fierce as a dragon, he has a laugh that is rare and pure and that makes me forget my fear. And he's gorgeous. With dark hair and eyes as blue as yours. Every night when I go to look for him, he is waiting for me, as if he can hear my approach from a mile away. He touches me with confidence and tenderness. And we laugh when we love, my Queen, great gales of laughter that make me forget the hard ground beneath us. "
Lillywyn, in her chatter, did not notice the bemused expression upon the face of her Queen. For the Queen knew very well who it was that had bested her wingwoman on the battlefield, just as she knew how it was that Lillywyn's lover had eyes as blue as her own. The thought of her Lilly at her son's side both amused and delighted her.
"A son of Rohan, is he? And what name has this son of Rohan given you?"
Lillywyn had the grace to look abashed, "we have not exchanged names. Nor did my mother exchange names with my sire…it's the wingwoman's way. We're not allowed to give our hearts away, you know that."
Arwen, looked at her wingwoman's bright, glowing face and wondered how long it would take for her to realize that she had done just that.
"My lady?" she asked, quizzically.
"Oh, never mind me right now. Tell me more about this son of Rohan."
Morning, three days later
Edoras
Arwen came up behind her son, and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
"Eldarion, are you so sad that we are leaving? Your friend the King is glad indeed to have your support behind his new throne."
Eldarion leaned his cheek upon his mother's hand. It was so soft, so warm, and it smelled of deepest comfort to him. And so he spoke.
"I am. But that's not the sorrow that you sense mother. It's a woman Atta. A shieldmaiden, and a good one I might add. Almost my equal with the sword. She's as sharp as her own blade, as eager to match wits as to cross arms. And she's beautiful, luminous as a spring dawn. She came to me three days ago, and we have spent every spare moment together since. And when we're apart, well, I can't seem to banish her from my thoughts. She doesn't even know who I am mother. She did not choose Eldarion, future king of Gondor. She has chosen a simple soldier, a champion of Gondor to be hers."
Arwen briefly considered illuminating her son on just who this maiden was, but quickly dismissed the idea. This convoluted drama belonged to the two of them, it must be they who solved it. So, she hugged her man-son and gave him her honest, but edited, response. "My son, this is wonderous news. You know how I long for a daughter in our home. Why not speak to her, and see where this new love may lead you?"
"Mother, if I were a soldier or a farmer, I would beg for her hand in an instant. But she deserves a life of partnership, not a life enslaved to the worries of the throne. And moreover, she needs a man who will grow old with her, not one who will still be youthful when she has passed to gray. She deserves to be loved by a man of her own kind."
Arwen studied her son's face, and felt grief that he should so burden himself. Though she knew she must not interfere, she could not stop herself from small commentary. "Oh, Dari, Is it such a terrible fate for love to bloom in unexpected places?"
Eldarion pulled away from her, and began to pace about the room like a caged animal. So like his father in his youth, Arwen thought, full of passion and uncontrolled fire. She sighed, knowing that life itself would bank that flame with the passage of years.
"You ARE mortal, my son, and though your life will be long, an end to it will come. Yes, the shadow of the throne is a long one, and you will dwell in it for all of your days. Will you then eschew love, and spend all of your long life alone?"
Eldarion made a brief bow, said "That, my mother, is my choice to make" and left the room.
Eldarion approached the river with a heavy heart. For four beautiful days he'd found happiness here, in the meager little tent they had set up by the riverside. For four days he'd been not the future king of Gondor, not a prince among men, not a Numenorian, but a man. A simple man entwined with a beautiful, strong woman, basking in pleasure, and companionship, and affection. And now he was going to end this idyll. Tonight he would say his goodbyes, cruelly if must be. Tonight he would set his she-hawk free.
He had arrived earlier than their meeting time, hoping to pull his thoughts together before she joined him, but it seems that she had had similar ideas. She greeted him at the door, clothed only in her hair and a smile, and she pulled him to her before he could give her any words.
At length, when they were sated, and her head rested heavy on his chest, he considered speaking to her. But he wanted to savor this moment just a little longer. He wanted to feel this way for one moment more. But as he delayed, his hawk sighed, shifted from their nest, and began to don her clothes.
When she had dressed, she turned to him, her eyes heavy with sadness, and spoke.
"Our affair is at an end. My destiny lies in service to my kingdom, and my loyalty cannot be divided. So though I will treasure these days we have been together, I must make my parting swift. You are a good fighter, and a good man, Champion of Rohan. I wish you blessings, and great joy. Goodbye, my friend."
With that, she left.
Eldarion sat, in stunned silence. He had never envisioned that it would be he that would be left behind.
The white city, 20 years later.
It was just past dawn, and Lillywyn had long been in the stables. She had checked her lady's horse for soundness, and was now engaged in currying her own mount, an amiable gelding named Gosling. As she moved the brittle comb through the tangle at the base of his tail, Lillywyn contemplated how swift the passage of time had been.
While the other wingwomen had retired one by one from service, Lillywyn's parentage had given her a much longer career, and for five years now she had been senior among those who guarded the king and queen. She had the scars to prove it, of course. The horrible wound from the barbarian who had snuck into the palace at dead of night. The burn from the barn fire 3 years ago, when she'd run in to release the royal mounts, and had earned a fierce scolding from the Queen for her trouble. But she was still hearty, still champion among the women at swordplay, and she looked forward to spending the remainder of her long youth engaged in the same work.
She still loved her charge, loved the royal family, loved the variety and the routine of it all. But hardly a week went by, even now, when she didn't dream of her Champion. Never a delegation from Gondor came that she didn't search for those keen cat eyes in the throng. She knew it was just as well. He'd stolen her heart in only a few days. She could not afford the conflict of interest his return might bring. And she knew that though the years had paused for her, he would be a older man now, retired, and probably living well in the arms of his family.
With a pat, she sent her mount cantering into a paddock, only to see her hard work destroyed in an instant as Gosling rolled eagerly in the dust. Oh, well, such was the way with horses.
Back in the palace, everyone and everything was being readied for the return of the crown prince. He had lived abroad for 50 years, learning the ways of each of the kingdoms of man, and was now to return home. Word was that Eldarion was a masterful warrior, but more importantly, that he had the goodness of his parents, and the patience of a true leader. Lilly was eager to meet the man who would one day wear Gondor's crown. But today was her day to rest, and the Queen had recommended that she allow one of the younger girls the pleasure of meeting Eldarion's arrival. There had been no shortage of volunteers, for rumor had it that he was as beautiful as the king, and much was made of his reputation with women.
Same Day
Osgiliath
Eldarion's ship docked at noon. There was an official delegation present to escort him home, but the streets were thronged with the people of Gondor, all hoping for a glimpse of their favorite son.
His mother was there, radiant as dawn, and his heart leapt into his throat. He threw his legs over the side of the vessel, and in three giant strides, closed the distance between them. With a happy laugh, he threw his around her, and lifted her easily into an arc of skirts through the air. He had returned her to her feet, and endured a hair-ruffling that was surely beneath his station, when he noticed that his mother was surrounded by three young women. Her wingwomen, he realized. The legendary secret society that pledged their lives to his family. He looked at each of them with interest.
It was no secret in the court that the prince had a special fondness for women of the sword. But try though he might, he was never able to replicate his experience with the She-Hawk in Gondor. Nonetheless, his taste since her had shifted away from satins and petticoats to long muscular limbs and training jerkins.
In the months after their parting, he had grieved the loss of her as he'd grieved nothing previously. At length, time had healed the wound over, but the mark of it was there, in the form of a deep longing every time he saw a strong, agile woman.
The next day
Queen Arwen's Quarters
For several weeks, Arwen and Lilly had been studying the work of Glanin, daughter of Goss. It was typical Dwarvish poetry, dense, dark, and laden with metallurgic references, but it had a surprisingly emotional core that had kept both their interest. And so, they took turns reading the work aloud, alternately laughing at the construction, and reveling in the content.
They had paused their studies when a sharp knock sounded at the door.
The Queen, having utterly exhausted her determination not to interfere, had invited her son to these quarters specifically so that Lilly and Eldarion could meet again in relative privacy. For Arwen had not forgotten the time her two children had spent together, and she suspected that neither had they. That she was rather impatient to have grandchildren about may have added to her decision to intervene, but she liked to believe that was a small component. Far more important to her was that these two should find each other again, and this time, not easily surrender what was so very precious. For the Queen knew from long experience that the path to love, while not easy, was well worth the time and effort involved.
The door opened, and a beautiful man strode in.
Lilly struggled to force air into her suddenly empty lungs. She did not need to cast around in her memory for why this man's face looked familiar. It had changed, but only slightly, less even than had her own in the intervening years. He was the champion of Rohan, the lover she'd never quite forgotten. Her body recognized him in an instant, and reacted to his presence as if the intervening years had not occurred. He stood before her, completely dressed, and yet she saw him as she had left him, hair tousled, eyes drowsy with satisfaction, body long and muscled and unclothed.
Eldarion, for his part looked at the wingwoman with puzzlement. He, too recognized his long-remembered lover. His heart hammered for a bit before he realized that this woman was too unchanged to be the same who left him in their riverside tent. Twenty years had passed; his hawk would now be a woman of middle age. The woman in front of him could be no more than thirty. And yet, she looked so like his she-hawk, that he could only assume that this was her daughter in front of him. Joy and crushing sorrow flooded through him in a fierce flood. A daughter…her life had indeed gone on without him. As it should, he instructed himself, as it should.
His mother was the first to break the tense silence. "Son, this is the chief of my wingwoman, Lillywyn, daughter of Teolyn. Lilly, this is my son Eldarion, heir to the throne of Gondor, and long champion of the Kingdom of Rohan."
Eldarion smoothed a polite smile upon his features and greeted Lilly with a regal nod. If there was one lesson that he had learned well in his years in the courts of man, it was to hide emotions beneath a placid exterior. And so, he took her hand, and showed no reaction when his skin reacted to the touch as it would to a fire. "Lady Lillywyn," he said quietly, "I am honored."
"As am I, my lord." For her part, Lilly was unable and unwilling to hide her shock. Her voice came out rusty, as if she hadn't used it in a day. She clamped her lips shut against the flood of words that tried to spill out. Still, before she could stop herself, the truth slipped out and into the open. "My lord, it is so very good to see you again."
"Have we met, my lady?" Eldarion cleared his throat his eyes moving nervously to his mother's. "I have not been to this Kingdom in many years."
Embarrassed to have acknowledged a meeting that he had so obviously forgotten Lillywyn flushed bitterly. "My mistake, Lord Eldarion. My mistake."
Arwen, unable to watch this painful scene unfold further, intervened to spare further awkwardness.
"Oh, for Frith's sake. You both met, I believe, in Gondor for King Eowyl's coronation, many years ago. You fought against one another in the tournament of arms, and unless I'm mistaken, you each left a part of your heart in the other's care. Perhaps now you remember the meeting?"
Eldarion took a step back, pulling his hand away from the fire. "But that was twenty years ago. Surely this is not the same woman I met then?"
The sight of Eldarion's discomfiture, and the reason for it, drove the cold and anxiety from Lillywyn's heart. She took a step closer, and dropped into a deep curtsey. "I too carry the blood of the Dunedin, Lord Eldarion, though I carry not so much of it as you. And please, allow me to offer my apologies, for my behavior then. I did not know with whom I danced, those many years ago."
Eldarion's face flushed, and his eyes grew devoid of emotion. Being judged as a future king, and not as a man was a deep seated wound in his heart. "And what, dear lady, would you have done differently, if you had known that I was heir to the throne of Gondor?"
Lillywyn, who read the play of emotion on his face far more easily than dwarvish poetry, couldn't help but grin at him. "Why I wouldn't have eased my ego by dumping you upon your backside after the tournament. Or have you forgotten?"
Eldarion barked an unexpected laugh, and instantly the mirth wiped all traces of tension from his shoulders. "Oh, I've forgotten nothing, Lady Lillywyn. Not. A. Thing."
Lillywyn, without a backwards glance, ran into his arms.
The announcement of Crown Prince Eldarion's betrothal to the Captain of the Queen's wingwomen was received with great joy in the kingdom of Gondor, and even greater joy by the King and Queen.
It was a short engagement, for, as Dari and Lilly would later tell their children, they'd already waited 20 years for each other…anything more would have been excessive.