Before the caravan for Théoden's funeral set out from Minas Tirith, I had formed a rhythm of serving as an adviser to the king in the morning, and serving as the chief handmaiden of the queen in the afternoon. My brothers had been sent back to Dol Amroth to prepare for their weddings, all of which would take place in early October, starting two days after my birthday. There was much work to be done—we were going to host the court of Gondor for at least a week to celebrate all three marriages and my twentieth birthday. None of the ladies with whom I had made friends returned to their homes. All of them were to be the first of Arwen's handmaidens until she could establish her own choices once all of the weddings were over, for my brothers' were just the first of several.
Aragorn had chosen Father, Faramir, and I to attend him in his journey to Edoras, and so the city was left to the care of Lord Húrin until we returned. And so over a month after Aragorn's wedding I found myself at Edoras. This morning we were to bury Théoden, and Éomer was to be crowned king that night. I was sharing a room with two other unwed women, but they were both gone from the room now. For the past three days I had feasted and slept in the Golden Hall, and I could not stop myself from wondering what my life would be like if Théodred, not Éomer, was to be the new king. Would I be trothplighted by now? Would Théoden's funeral be a precursor to my marriage? Then again, if Théodred had come to Minas Tirith I probably would have married him before he went to the Gates, no matter what he said. I had brought many clothes of mourning, and wore the finest of them all to say goodbye to the previous king of Rohan.
"It is time, daughter." I had not heard my Father come to the door, but there he was, waiting for me.
"Of course," I said, coming to his side.
We followed the burial train that wormed its way from the Golden Hall down through Edoras and out the gates. They buried him in the last in a line of mounds, now totalling eight, on the eastern side of the Barrowfield, surrounded with his weapons and some of his belongings.
Some of his Riders began to circle the mourners, singing a song about the life of their deceased king. Beside me, my brothers and father did not understand the words so I quietly translated for them, recounting the events of the Hornburg and Pelennor from the view of our northern brothers. Their song resonated within me, their voices deep and capturing how the hope came out from the darkest moment.
At long last, the funeral rite ended and we all returned to the Golden Hall to crown the new king. The Slayer of the Black Captain, and my soon-to-be cousin came before the crowd and held a goblet high towards her brother. Another man who I did not know stood near them, and listed the Kings of Rohan.
"Erol the Young; and Brego builder of the Hall; and Aldor brother of Baldor the hapless; and Fréa, and Fréawine, and Goldwine, and Déor, and Gram; and Helm who lay hid in Helm's Deep when the Mark was overrun; and so ended the nine mounds of the west-side, for in that time the line was broken, and after came the mounds of the east-side: Fréalaf, Helm's sister-son, and Léofa, and Walda, and Folca, and Folcwine, and Fengel and Thengel, and Théoden the latest." Éomer took the cup from Éowyn and drank the whole of it at once. At Éowyn's word, the rest of us stood up and toasted the new king, yelling: "Hail Éomer-King!" and "Hail the King of the Mark!"
After that, he was officially crowned and the feast began. The food was a welcome change from the delicacies of the Gondorian court, and my family loved eating the huge pieces of meat and the creamy potatoes. As people finished their food, Éomer stood up from his seat and the hall quieted down. "Much like all gatherings since we defeated the Enemy, there is good tidings in our somber meetings. Though we are gathered to burying Théoden-King, there is an important announcement which I wish to make. My most honored guests, hear now that Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and Prince of Ithilien, asks that Éowyn Lady of Rohan should be his wife, and she grants it full willing. Therefore they shall be trothplighted before you all."
Faramir and Éowyn stood up together, and clasped hands. Everyone in the hall cheered and toasted to the two of them, and I was relieved that they had finally announced their trothplighting. Éomer made some comment about the cementing of the friendship between our two countries, but I missed it as Amrothos had a bit of a choking fit at that moment. "Stop it!" I hissed at him. "You make it seem like we don't support our cousin!" On his other side, Erchirion began to stifle a laugh.
The next morning, I came out of the room and looked about for my lord. "Siege," I turned at Éomer's voice, and he clapped me on the shoulder. "It would appear that there is no rest for the weary; come, we are to meet about trade," he said.
"Before my breakfast? How terrible," I said, overplaying my disappointment.
"Well my friend," he said, "I shall send for some bread and cheese for you. Come!" Éomer led me through different hallways and we came upon what must have been the king's study to find Aragorn, Faramir, Elfhelm, two other Rohirric men I did not know, and my father. True to his word, Éomer had a servant bring us some food and once that was eaten we set about our task.
Just as the hour for lunch approached, Aragorn turned to Faramir. "When shall you marry the lady Éowyn?" he asked.
"As soon as possible," Faramir answered, "though we do not know when that shall be."
"I can offer you my home, nephew," Father told him. "In October; I am sure it wouldn't be difficult to squeeze in another wedding besides the three of my sons."
Éomer let out a whistle. "My, Siege, you have been busy. Congratulate them for me, Imrahil."
"And so I shall if you do not come to their weddings yourself!" Father said, laughing.
"Would you really have me, Uncle?" Faramir asked.
"Of course!" Father replied. "I could hardly love you more than if you were my son, rather than my nephew. And we all know how pleased your aunt Irviniel would be to only have to travel once to see all four of her nephews wed."
"Very well!" Faramir said. "I shall confirm it with Éowyn, but I believe that she will heartily agree. We will wed in October, at Dol Amroth."
"Éomer, my friend," Aragorn began, turning our attention to them, "though I hate to impose, could I ask that Lothíriel stay with you until then? She could help Éowyn prepare for her wedding and stay to finish the work on estimates for the gems you are thinking about mining in Helm's deep.
"You wish to send in your best negotiator then!" Éomer cried in mock annoyance. "Do you intend for any good to come to the Mark?"
"I intend the best for both our lands," Aragorn said in mock severity. "And that is why I shall entrust this task to no one else, so long as it pleases Siege."
"It would please me greatly, my lord," I said as seriously as I could muster.
Éomer let out a great sigh. "I shall agree only because of the Oath of Erol, Aragorn." Roars of laughter erupted from the table. In a few days time, everyone except me was preparing to leave. I took little notice of the travel news, except once when I was helping Éowyn with her Bride's Blanket the night before the scheduled departure.
"Lothíriel," she asked slowly, "I have had an odd request, and I thought to ask you about it."
"Oh? Please do so," I said at once.
"Lady Gwaidaerin, your friend as I understand it, has asked to remain behind with us and travel to Dol Amroth in our party," she said.
That took me by surprise. "Did she give any reason for it?" I asked.
"No, but…" Éowyn hesitated for a moment. "I have seen her often in the company of Elfhelm. I am not certain what is passing between them, but…I cannot help but wonder."
"Well, whatever her reason she is a wonderful girl, and I count her as a true friend. You will like her, too, I am sure," I said.
Éowyn nodded. "Then I shall give her permission to stay, and we shall see if Aragorn gives her permission as well." Aragorn ended up freely assenting, so long as I promised to act as a guardian for her in the absence of her family. I vowed before my king to keep her safe, and the matter was settled. Once the others departed, the Golden Hall settled down to its routine and the feasts ended, though I was secretly pleased at the change. From the conversations I heard murmured throughout Edoras, the destruction had been hard on the West-Mark and many were worried about the upcoming winter.
But the thought of the task ahead of me weighed on my mind. After some time, Éomer informed me that he planned on making a trip to Helm's Deep within the fortnight to survey the preliminary efforts to re-establish the mining, and I seized the opportunity. "May I accompany you, my lord? I want to assure my king that your descriptions of the caves are accurate," I teased.
He laughed. "Very well! You shall come with us, but know that I intend to make a quick trip of it," he said.
I nodded. "That should work for me…only," and I hesitated. Éomer saw the change in me, and the smile fell slowly from his face. "I would ask that you take me to the Fords of Isen—where your cousin died." Whatever he was expecting, that was clearly not it. "I have someone I want to grieve for, and I want to do it in a new river."
"Lothíriel…" and now he, too, struggled to speak. "There is someone I also wish to grieve for as well. I shall take you to the Fords." He did not say who it was he wanted to grieve, but in that moment I felt as if I understood him nonetheless—he probably lost someone that he loved. I gave him the best smile I could muster, and we parted ways.
By the time of our departure arrived, Éowyn and Gwaidaerin had formed a friendship and the young girl was only too happy to help Éowyn prepare the Bride's Blanket while I was gone. "Besides," Gwaidaerin said cheerfully to Éowyn and me as I prepared to leave, "I have helped to make so many! After the one we made for our queen, we have helped to make each others'. For out of the eight of us, five are now trothplighted, and we worked on theirs during the fortnight before the King's wedding and King Éomer's arrival. We shall make yours as beautiful as any of theirs!"
Éomer and I set out from Edoras on a bright, clear morning. We moved with a small company of men, and travelled through the Mark quickly. We arrived late in the night to the Fords of Isen, and Éomer and I agreed to begin the ceremony the next morning. At sunrise, there was no brilliant sky to greet us; gray clouds obscured the east, and dotted the west. He led me to the Ford where a burial mound was, surrounded by spears. On one of the spears, a traditional Rohirric helmet rested. "This is it," Éomer said. I merely nodded.
We both took out our swords and gave them to his guard. With a torch in his hand and the bag of Weeping Flowers in mine, we waded into the river. I spoke the opening words in Sindarin without amending them, and then repeated it for Éomer in his native tongue. "We still remember, we who dwell / In this far land beneath the trees / The lights of our brothers who were lost." I lit the first candle and sent it down the river.
I took out the one with a taller candle than most of the others, but did not light it. "Éomer, my friend," I told him. "You no doubt wonder why I am the only of my family to speak Rohirric." He nodded. "It is time that I told someone, and as my truest friend in Rohan I want to entrust my secret to you. You must never reveal this to anyone," I said.
"And in turn, my friend," he said, "I shall tell you my secret, and you shall not reveal it to anyone."
"Agreed," I said, nodding. "I came here to light a candle for the one I loved. Unlike remembering friends and family, when a person comes to the river and lights a candle for the one they loved they are supposed to tell their story, and so shall I now tell you." I lit the candle, and held it in my hands. "Théodred, son of Théoden." Éomer looked greatly surprised, but said nothing.
"I was sixteen. My company and I chased a large pack of wargs across the White Mountains and down onto the northern slopes in Rohan. As we engaged the wargs, an éodred rode out and fought our enemy as well. There was a moment when we were fighting that I looked up and saw a man come to the aid of one of my injured men. He moved with such grace, and after the battle when he removed his helmet I saw his yellow hair and deep brown eyes and something in me called out to him. He must have heard it, for he turned to me and we were apart from everyone else. He came up and we exchanged first names. I was so nervous that I did not say anything smooth or courteous—I told him that I liked his yellow hair, and he told me that he liked my gray eyes. I will never forget his smile—as if I were the only person he ever wanted to see. I told him that we came over the White Mountains, and he told me that one day he would cross them himself to come marry me.
"We wrote to each other every day for two and a half years, though we couldn't send that many messages back and forth. He told me of the worries he had and what he hoped would happen in his homeland. I told him about my military campaigns and the antics of my family. I told Father, and he began negotiations for me for the two of us to wed. Théodred had hoped for some time next spring, and I told him that if he waited any longer I would kidnap him to Dol Amroth to make what we felt official. There was an age difference, but it didn't matter in the least. We both knew…we knew that we were meant for each other.
"And when we heard the Horns of the North my hope abounded. Théodred had come! I waited until my father let us ride forth and I fought with a fury to find him. And when you were hailed as king…I felt as if my world was destroyed. There we were in the midst of Pelennor and I learned that my love had been ripped from me, though how or when I knew naught. And when we grieved together in the Anduin and you said his name, I thought that my grief would flow with yours downriver, but it didn't. Now that I am standing here, I feel like I have been living a delusion. I haven't seen him in three years, so I have only loved him from afar. I could almost fool myself into thinking that he was not really gone, and that he was riding through his homeland, missing me as much as I missed him. For months, I have pushed and pushed my grief away, distracting myself with the rebuilding of Gondor and my attempts to gain friends, but it has all been for nothing. The one that I loved is gone. He died here and was laid to rest months ago, and in Arda I shall not see him again."
I let the candle go, and then held my face in my hands, weeping. All of the pain started to wash out as I accepted how deeply I felt the loss of Théodred. Éomer put a hand on my hair, and then drew me in for an embrace. A few minutes later, I managed to calm down somewhat and looked up to him. "And now you, my friend," I said, passing the bag of Weeping Flowers to him. He pulled out the other tall candle, and lit it on the torch.
"Holenrif, daughter of Wídfrod," he said gravely. "I first noticed her four years ago when she was a servant in Aldburg. We barely spoke initially, but as time permitted I would speak to her more and more. We fell in love, slowly, wonderfully. The only other who knew of it was Éothain, my closest friend. He was worried that she would not be enough. As the third Marshal and the nephew to the king, it was expected that I should marry a noblewoman and have the match please my king. I couldn't want that, though. I wanted Holenrif. But it didn't matter! The darkness clung to our land. It didn't matter if I was in love with a servant or a noble—I needed to work for the Mark. The last time I saw her we…we made our feelings known.
"At the fields of Cormallen, I decided that as king, I did not have to please anyone but myself. I would marry Holenrif, and allow myself to be loved by the one I loved. When I returned, though, I discovered that I had been too late. She died in April…from childbirth," he said slowly, and stole a glance to look at me. I said nothing. "It was my child, though I never saw the babe. He died, along with Holenrif…I lost them both before I even really had them. I don't know what to do, and I can scarcely breathe when I think that all of the years of my life now shall not be spent with her," he said, and I noticed that he was almost trembling.
He let go of the candle. "I know the Mark needs a queen, but I cannot imagine binding myself to anyone else. Waking up, morning after morning, reaching for the one I love and finding someone else where she should be. I don't know what to do."
My heart weighed heavily in my chest. I almost felt as if time stood still—here, in a land far from my home at the grave of the one I loved, I stood with his cousin and my friend. The second time we were united in grief, and this time all the more intimately. The ones we loved…taken from us. It was far from what we deserved, and yet we could still stand. Except for that night before Aragorn's wedding, this was the only time that I had allowed myself to show how hurt I felt and I almost thought that my pain and loneliness would overwhelm me. But as I stood in the river, mourning with Éomer I knew that I was not the only one who kept running around, pretending like everything was fine while actually feeling immense amounts of grief. He, too, had lost a cousin that was like a brother, an uncle, and the one he loved. Now we were left to shoulder their responsibilities and move on, caring for the people for whom they died.
Éomer turned from looking downstream to hold my gaze, and in it, I saw that we were feeling the same way. We both exhaled, and after a moment I moved to complete the ceremony. This was our moment to grieve with someone who understood, but soon this would pass and we would have to exit the river and take up our facades again. I took out a Weeping Flower and lit it, speaking the words of closing first in Sindarin and then in Rohirric. "To all my other brothers and sisters who have gone before me." The candle passed out of my hands.
"To all my other brothers and sisters who have gone before me," Éomer repeated, passing a candle into the water.
I lit the last candle for myself, and placed it in the water. "Lothíriel of Dol Amroth," I said, releasing the pain I felt. I would never be Lothíriel, wife of Théodred. I would have to wait to see him again, but for the first time I felt as if I could bear to live so long without him.
"Éomer, son of Éomund," he said, and together we cast off the Weeping Flowers. I waited to see if he would sing again, and I was not disappointed. He sang of love and loss and moving on with life. I knew that this was as cathartic for him as it was for me.
We started to exit the river and once we resumed the journey to Helm's Deep, I asked the question that had been on my mind since I arrived at Rohan: "Théodred told me that he was named a godfather. What happened to that child?"
Éomer looked surprised. "His godson? That was Fastred's son. Fastred died at Pelennor, but I would imagine that his widow lives at the Hornburg. If you want, we can stop by and you can meet the child."
"I would like that," I said calmly. "He should have been my husband's godson, so naturally I am curious about him."
He nodded. "Naturally."
When we arrived at Helm's Deep, however, we could not find the widow of Fastred. Over the next few days, he made some inquiries and eventually found that the wife had died leaving the child at the home of a widow who had taken in several children orphaned by war. "We must go and see him," I said to Éomer as we exited the Glittering Caves.
"You sound determined," he said, almost laughing at me.
"Then you should know that it wasn't a request, my friend. Let's go," I replied, feigning annoyance. We headed over to the homes that had sprung up within the walls, and wandered through the streets until someone directed us to the widow's house. We stood at the threshold, and he knocked on the door.
"I'm at the stove, but just come in!" rang out the answer. I raised an eyebrow to Éomer and we went inside. A woman in her mid-forties was stirring a pot over her fire, while four kids were running around playing some kind of game. A small child was sitting on a high chair, playing with some cooked beans. He looked up at me with big, brown eyes under a mop of yellow hair. A smile broke out on his face, and I felt stricken with a love that I could not comprehend. Tears came down my face, and I stepped forward to brush my hand over his hair. He gave a laughed, and reached his arms out to me. Just as I knew I loved Théodred from the moment I saw him, I knew that I would love this child.
"Lothíriel!" Éomer said, and when I finally looked to him I took it that he had called my name several times. "Are you quite alright?"
"Whose child is this?" I asked, turning my attention to the woman, but knowing the answer already.
"Fastred and Hafeorde's son. I've been taking care of him since they died," she said.
I turned back to the child. "Let me…" I wasn't sure how to say what I felt. "I have seen enough sorrow, and I think it is time for something truly happy to come into my life. I offer myself as his mother, so that I may adopt him and make him my heir."
"Perhaps you are thinking rashly?" Éomer said at once.
"No, Éomer. I shall not make you a promise that I would not keep," I told him honestly.
"Lothíriel, this isn't some kind of stray you can pick up on the side of the road. This is a baby you are talking about," he said, looking at me like I was crazy.
But I was having none of it. "Of course I understand that. I know what I am saying and I mean it with my entire heart."
"What would your father say?" he pressed, changing tactics.
"I am the Princess Royal," I replied. "I have power over who enters the family, and I have already reached adulthood. But even so he will support me…" The child reached up and started playing with my fingers. "He will understand."
"If you are a capable lady," the woman interjected suddenly. Éomer and I looked up with a start, having forgotten her. "Then I think his parents would be glad to know someone was looking out for their son." She and I held each other's gazes for a moment, and it seemed as if I had passed some test of hers.
"Then take of Rohan this child," Éomer said slowly, looking like he could not believe what was happening. His gaze suddenly softened. "Love him fiercely enough for the ones he has lost."
"And so I shall, my friend," I promised. I turned back to the woman, "What is his name?"
"What is your name?" she asked me.
"Lothíriel, Daughter of Imrahil," I replied.
The woman nodded. "And he shall be Grimhelm, Lothírielson once you adopt him."
"Little Grimhelm," I repeated. "What a perfect name."
"Well Lothíriel, my name is Scrynbrim. Let me show you to his things…" she said, coming away from the stove and setting about business. I was not prepared for much of anything she launched into explaining, but I did my best to keep up. During the next two days I spent all of my time with her, trying to learn more about what it took to care for an infant. Luckily, he was around seven months old so he would be completely weaned within a few months. As it was, Éomer found a young woman named Lagewen who agreed to come on for a few months as a wet-nurse for the boy, and so with her and my new son we returned to Edoras, and I busied myself with preparations for Éowyn's wedding and spending time with Grimhelm. I wrote to my father telling him what happened, and a messenger was sent to Minas Tirith. For a moment I felt a twinge of doubt, but I cast it aside.
I made my formal declarations of the child to Éomer in the Golden Hall, saying that I claimed the child as a ward to my own house. Gwaidaerin took the whole thing in stride, and though initially Éowyn regarded me with some suspicion, she readily accepted it eventually. Something told me that Éomer had spoken with her.
In the last week of September, we set out from Edoras to Harrowdale, from where we would take the Dimholt road and go into Belfalas. When we arrived at Dunharrow, its lord Ealdor greeted us. "Welcome, Éomer-King!" he said, hurrying to greet us. "Lady Éowyn," he said, embracing her as well. He spied Lady Gwaidaerin, and flourished a bow to her. "And you must be Lady Lothíriel. Your reputation precedes you," he said.
Everyone held back a laugh, and she turned bright red. "Nay, my friend," Éomer said, with a hint of a laugh. "You look upon Lady Gwaidaerin, whose father is the Warden of the Keys for Mundburg. This," he said gesturing to me as I dismounted carefully with Grimhelm. "Is Lothíriel, Princess of Dol Amroth."
Ealdor looked surprised, and somewhat embarrassed, but then laughed. "My apologies, my ladies! I was over-eager to great the beautiful Gondorian ladies!"
"All shall be forgiven, my lord," I said walking forward, "If you would take us to your hall. I am simply famished!"
He nodded with a broad smile, "And so I shall! Let me see you and the little one settled in," he said, offering me his arm.
"Pardon my rudeness, but until I feel more secure in my new role I shall still carry him with both hands, my lord," I said.
"Not at all!" he replied laughing, but then his mood became somber for a moment. "I have wanted to meet you for some time, my lady. My son Isenmod told me that that you fought at Pelennor. I wish that I could have seen it for myself."
I looked to him as we followed him into his hall. Servants bustled about, trying to get his hall ready for dinner. Éomer had told me that Lord Ealdor had lost his fighting arm when he was a young man, and had never been able to fight again. When Rohan marched for Minas Tirith, Ealdor had to stay behind and send off his father and son in his stead. His father, a friend of Théoden's, fell at Pelennor leaving Ealdor as the Lord of Dunharrow. "I am sorry, my lord," I replied. "Éomer told me that your father, Lord Dunhere, fell at Pelennor, along with many of your men. His sacrifice was not in vain."
We quickly passed out of the main rooms and came towards the bedrooms. Ealdor stopped at one of the doors. "I have never truly taken comfort in people dying for a cause," he said slowly. "Dying for a cause does not soften the blow for those they leave behind. But no matter!" Ealdor put on a smile again, and though I felt the acute pain of loss that he did, I smiled as well. "Please take your time; I shall wait for you in the Hall, and we shall feast to your arrival," he said kindly.
We thanked him, and Lagewen and I went inside. There was a large bed and a crib, and after the two of us held a short conference, we agreed that she would spend the night with me. Upon re-entering his dining hall, we learned that his son was riding throughout the valley with his éodred, and so we would not be able to meet him. Nonetheless, dinner that night was a merry affair. As it turned out, Ealdor had a passion for cheese of all things, and after I had sampled some that was made in his lands I immediately set to establish a trade agreement. Exotic cheese from our new allies would be a great success in Gondor.
Éomer had planned for us to travel through the Dimholt road too see how viable it would be as a permanent trade route, and so we set out the next day. After hearing all of the tales I would have thought it to be a terrifying place, but other than the fact that it was a tunnel there was very little to be concerned about. We headed south through the Morthond Vale, and boarded a boat at Lefnost that took us straight to Dol Amroth. Upon docking at the harbor, I rode ahead with Lagewen and Grimhelm so that I could be there to greet the party when they arrived at my home.
When the men at the gates recognized me, they blew trumpets and heralded my arrival—I was home. We hurried straight to the courtyard of the palace and as I dismounted my father and brothers came running. "Little one!" Father cried, sweeping me into an embrace. "Is it true you have brought me a grandchild?" he asked.
I nodded, and reached up to take Grimhelm from Lagewen. "Father, this is Grimhelm, my son."
My brothers stood, mouths ajar, and said nothing. Father took the child from me, and held him with a tender smile. "And so my first grandchild shall look nothing like me," he said, laughing. "We shall all love him, and regard him not like our own, but as our own."
And that was it—Father supported me and so all would accept Grimhelm as mine. No more questions would be asked. He was my son. Faramir appeared, and smiled at the sight of us. "You shall have four uncles, little one," he said, "But I shall be your favorite!"
"Nay!" Elphir cried, "I shall be your favorite!"
As Amrothos and Erchirion made to protest, I held up my hand. "You have all your lives to argue about favorites," I informed them, "but now he must rest and I must make myself presentable. Rohan shall be here in an hour." The courtyard cleared, and Lagewen and I hurried to get the three of us clean and presentable. When I walked into my old chambers, I saw that things were not quite as I had left them. The crib I had slept in as a child was there, along with all manners of toys for a young babe. Without even seeing the child, or knowing more than I put in my letter, Father had whole-heartedly put for his energy to support me. I blinked back tears, and moved about trying to ready myself.
After my rapid bath I put on one of my better feasting dresses and looked to Grimhelm. A servant was just finishing giving him a sponge bath, and so I helped to dry him off. "My lady," the servant said, "The Prince had clothes for the little lord put in here, so we can have him dressed in our colors."
"Excellent," I said, searching through the drawer and I found the most darling little blue and silver baby-gown for him. Grimhelm squirmed a bit, but we managed to get him dressed with no issue. Trumpets sounded again, and I looked out my window towards the bay. More ships had arrived, most bearing the Standard of the King, and some with the standards of other lords—Lamedon, Anfalas, Lossarnarch, and Lebennen, along with the minor houses. "Come, Grimhelm," I said, picking him up. "We must welcome the lords."
He cooed and smiled at me, so I descended the stairs with a great happiness in my heart. My family was waiting at the top of the stairs in our courtyard, and within the hour Aragorn led in a great entourage, including the Rohirrim, who had obviously waited at the bay for them. They dismounted, and Aragorn broke protocol by hurrying up the stairs, with Arwen at his arm. "Where is he?" he asked with a smile, "The one who captivated my captain Lothíriel?"
"He is here, my king," I said.
Aragorn bounded up the last few steps and laughed as he took Grimhelm in his hands. "What a darling creature!" Aragorn said, before passing him to Arwen.
A loving smile came across her face. "What a treasure you are," she said softly in Sindarin. "I know you shall bring your mother much joy." I was not certain whether she was hoping that or had some knowledge of the future, but it did not matter to me either way. The rest of the nobles began their ascent of the stairs, and all of them were intent on learning the king and queen's opinion on the strange matter.
"You must be a proud grandfather, Imrahil," Aragorn said, clapping him on his shoulder.
"I am! I have been trying on different names, and have come at last to Haru," Father replied. Éomer walked forward with Éowyn in tow, taking the steps without the hurry that Aragorn had earlier.
"And shall you be Naneth?" Arwen asked, turning to me.
"Nay, I shall be Mafwyn," I said with a smile. Arwen cooed down at Grimhelm, and said a blessing for him. I stole a glance to Éomer, and he smiled broadly back.
That night was the welcoming feast, and the next morning I woke up as a twenty-year old woman. In my absence, Erchirion and Amrothos led the entertainment for the guests and Father retreated with Aragorn, Éomer, Elphir, Faramir, some other lords, and I into his study. Before I left to attend the queen, we had the permanent and temporary trade agreements arranged. That evening we toasted to my health and Aragorn presented me with a fine sword in a decorated sheath to wear daily, and I understood his implication—while I attended the Queen I was to be her last line of defense.
The queen then stood up, and presented me with a gift, which I was not expecting. "I have heard," she said to the silent hall, "that you have a gift that has not been mentioned before. My gift to you, mellon-nin, is this," and a servant came forward and presented me with the most beautiful viol I had ever seen. As I took it carefully in my hands, I saw that it was expert craftsmanship.
"It…" for a moment I feared that words would fail me, "It is beautiful. The fairest viol I have ever seen," I assured her.
"Whatever happened to your last one?" Amrothos asked.
"It fell in the line of duty at Tolfalas," I said, remembering the night that I had used it in the city's catapults of fire, because we had run out of all other supplies. "Though I assure you, my queen, that the same fate shall not fall to this one."
"You must honor us with your playing," Father said.
My blood ran cold; that was a terrible idea."Oh, but I haven't played in over a year," I replied, trying to get out of it.
"I have faith in you," Arwen said with a smile. I nodded slowly, knowing I could not defy her. I came down from the high table to stand before everyone, and I felt a nervous sweat come over me. This would not turn out well. I ran my bow across the strings to see that it was in tune and help myself remember. Now what should I play? I considered it for a moment, and then thought of my favorite piece that I could remember how to play without sheet music.
I gathered my courage, and put the bow back to the strings. The song was of love, loss, and the hope to regain what was once had. It wasn't about the love between two people, or parents and their children, but rather between the home and a person—the land, the sea, the sky, and the people. We had built something to take pride in, and preserved for hundreds of generations, and at the end of the war we had come out the stronger. Into the song, I poured all of the love that I had inside me, tempered by my grief at those we had lost—both the friends who fell in battle and the land that bore the marks of war. And I thought of Grimhelm, who had already had his life changed by the war—his blood parents were dead, and now a twenty-year old woman with no husband adopted him. And yet…he had his whole life before him. He would not grow up in the shadow of Mordor and he would be free. The song drew to its close, and I felt one tear in my eye. The hall applauded politely, but I couldn't have cared less; that song was for my family and me.
After dinner I grabbed Elphir by the arm as he attempted to sneak away. "How was it? Honestly?" I asked.
He grimaced just a little. "It wasn't your worst performance. You were a bit sharp at some points, and your tempo sped up throughout the song, but it was not terrible!"
I sighed. "I was never very good and I've been out of practice. Hopefully they will forgive me for messing up."
Elphir laughed. "Our Queen was smiling the whole time; I don't think anyone will have the heart to criticize you after her support."
"Wonderful," I replied with defeat. "All I need is everyone's pity." Elphir laughed again, and we bid each other goodnight.
Erchirion was married the next day, then Elphir, then Amrothos, and finally Faramir, each wedding taking place on the second night after the preceding wedding. To my surprise, I found myself standing in as a witness at all four ceremonies, and I was Éowyn's senior witness as well. On the second day after Faramir and Éowyn's wedding the whole royal party departed Dol Amroth and we took leave of the Rohirrim, including Lagewen, at Lamedon, where Helerast married Terengbor. Éomer had become as attached to Grimhelm as I had in the past few months, and asked for a private farewell with Grimhelm. He also publically asked me to keep him informed of my Rohirric son. From there, we proceeded eastwards to Lossarnarch to see Orodgil and Gloreth married. At long last, we reached Minas Tirith and I was able to settle into a new routine.
Much to the rest of Gondor's surprise, I took Grimhelm with me most everywhere. He came with me to attend the king in his court and during council meetings during the mornings, and he came with me to attend the queen during the afternoons. He was the ray of sunshine in my life. He was such a peaceful baby, and he captured my heart before I knew it no longer belonged to me. He was my son, and he meant everything to me. Now that Gondor was rebuilding, I finally felt myself begin to heal.
Author's Note: If you do not have a go-to violin song, the one I listened to when I wrote it is this rendition of the hymn Jerusalem: www. / watch?v=fsmPA6ONxqs
Also, the quote in the last chapter is from Edith Wharton's House of Mirth. "Mothers are always dreaming the craziest things for their children."