Writer's Note: I'm really sorry for the wait everyone! These recent chapters have been heavy on the dialogue and character development rather than exploration and travel (which I much prefer writing) so it's been far more slow going—and I'm very worried I could slip out of character. Unfortunately it's not going to let up yet, but thank you for sticking with me. In case you haven't heard, I've made a tumblr and update there on my progress, so if you're curious my username is i-mushi.
Disclaimer: I make no money from this work. Anything recognizable from The Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R Tolkien. Some of Legolas' lines come from Return of the King, and I don't own The Wizard of Oz.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Winter Friends are Friends Forever
The courtyard the remnants of the Fellowship had found themselves in was large and stone-rimmed, commanding a view to the south that encompassed fields, far off hills, and the glittering line of the Anduin. It was hard to focus on the impressive scenery though when there was such a mishmash of races occupying the garden: two curly-haired hobbits, a stout dwarf with an impressively braided beard, and a thoughtlessly graceful Elf. It made quite the image.
"Miss Maddie!" Pippin cried as he spotted me hovering in the entranceway, and before I knew it I'd been offered a seat on the hobbit's picnic blanket. It could have made a tent for the two of them it was so big. Gimli leaned against a bench nearby and Legolas perched on the edge of a garden wall. The Elf definitely stuck out in the persistent gloom of the day and the drabness of the wet spring weather.
Renewed introductions were made, since I had only fleetingly met Legolas and Gimli and hadn't really been in any shape to make nice. "Legolas, Gimli, this is Lady Maddie," Pippin introduced. I nodded my head to both of them, and Legolas returned it. Gimli wasn't quite so gracious though.
"Aye, the Seer!" the dwarf said immediately, and I tried not to groan too loudly.
Pippin, of course, couldn't keep his mouth shut. "She much prefers the Lady of Secret Fire, actually."
"I do not!" I said exasperatedly, but I don't think I was heard over Pippin outright laughing at my expression. Merry at least looked like he was struggling not to. "I am not a seer and not of some secret fire. So please, just call me Maddie." I really didn't want to debate how much neither title fit me at all.
"Well that's an awfully fine cloak for a lady with no title," Merry protested with a too-big smile, "and I'd say you're a seer of some kind, since you knew a tidy bit about the battle before it'd even begun."
"The cloak," I ground out, having temporarily forgotten I was wearing it, "was a gift that I can't give back yet. And I can't do magic like Gandalf." I was becoming a broken record, I swear.
"You'll have to take some title, lass," Gimli advised, once the hobbits had stopped joking about fires and prophecies. "People like to understand these things, even if it's just an empty name. Why, that's what half of noblemen are, and they haven't done anything to earn it!"
"It's why Pippin here was the so-called Prince of Hobbits," Merry tacked on, thumbing at Pippin with a smirk. "No one wants to hear tales of a not-quite-grown hobbit when you can hear about lost kings, war heroes, and princes. Easier to think he's from the grand kingdom of the Shire than just some Took." Pippin nodded along, only realizing a moment later that he'd basically been called the sidekick of the story.
I glanced at Legolas, who fit the mold perfectly as an Elven prince, but he was looking off and a ways into the distance, not paying any attention to the conversation. Gimli and Merry had a point, but it still seemed disingenuous to take a title with such assumptions like "Lady of the Secret Fire".
"There's a story in my homeland about a wizard—called the Wizard of Oz—who pretended to be a very great wizard. But then the people learned he was just a fake, and he lost everything. I do not want people to think I am lying." I'd thought about it a lot since the title was reluctantly bestowed on me, and all I could think was someone was one day going to expect bangs and flying broomsticks and all I had was a dead cell phone.
"Eh, he sounds like one of the minstrels on the caravans," Gimli said dismissively.
"It sounds like an interesting story," Legolas said suddenly, his lilting voice a jarring juxtaposition against Gimli's gravely one. "If there were time I should like to hear it."
"It's far too long, and I don't know how much I remember." I didn't even know when I'd last seen that movie, but it had been a good long while before I'd even come to Middle Earth. As I was thinking about it I missed whatever Merry was saying, something about cider and stories, but soon enough Gimli was addressing me with darker talk.
"I heard there was a war council in the early hours—will we be seeing any more of Aragorn, Boromir, or the wizard?" The dwarf rolled his 'r' heavily, and strung words together so it was a bit hard to understand him.
"Um… I suppose so. The army will be marching in the next day or two I believe."
"Going where?" Pippin asked, wrestling from his pocket a huge apple that made his hand seem even tinier. He took a big bite and through a mouthful asked, "Chasing down the rest of the orcs?"
"Pippin!" snapped Merry, smacking the back of his head. "Your sister'd twist your ear if you talked with a mouth full of food in front of her!" Pippin hastily swallowed.
"To Mordor, actually. It's all rather complicated," I answered. It wasn't really, but I didn't feel much up to talking about it.
Luckily it looked like Gimli didn't want to hear talk of the Black Lands either, because he eyed Pippin's apple and didn't ask more. "Aye, well, I'll be keeping my axe sharp," he said gruffly, chewing a bit on the end of his pipe though it was unlit.
"Alas but for the necessity of it," Legolas added, somehow looking both put upon and otherworldly at the same time. Only Elves seemed to be able to pull that off.
"Then let's not be gloomy!" Pippin cried, at least this time not around partially chewed apple. "Come, Legolas, tell us what was in that song of the sea you were singing not long ago, and we'll see about a bite for lunch."
"More like a feast!" Merry complained. "I haven't eaten since breakfast." He too was eyeing Pippin's apple. My stomach started to grumble at the thought.
"I'll have you know, Master Hobbit, that outside your Shire that's how it is. Second breakfast indeed," Gimli said smartly. The hobbits looked ready for an argument about the merits of more than three meals a day, so I started looking around for a servant. There was a hallway that wrapped around the far edge of the courtyard, but I hadn't seen anyone pass through.
"Should we find someone?" It came out a bit dubious, but Gimli just snorted.
"No finding needed. Legolas! I don't think my ears have bled enough from your Elvish music." I had to laugh at that, and even Legolas was sporting a half-smile. After a moment to let the hobbits' giggles die down Legolas hummed a couple notes then sung maybe three lines of a song, slow and gentle, rocking the words the way the currents of the ocean swayed a boat. I knew immediately it was about the sea even though it was in Elvish, you could just feel the flow of the water in the tune.
And then a servant dropped something in the hall and the hobbits immediately burst into laughter.
It was funny, I couldn't deny that, but I also understood where those girls were coming from. Elves could be overwhelming even when they're doing nothing but staring into the distance, so I certainly didn't blame the maidservants for getting flustered by the only Elf they'd ever heard singing. Let's face it too; Legolas was handsome by anyone's standards, even if he had that ethereal Elven quality that I found a little too alien.
Since Legolas had a secretive smile on his face it was obvious he'd known perfectly well what would happen. While the others were still chuckling, I got up and caught the poor woman just standing up with the remains of a glass cup in a napkin. I don't know why I'd been expecting one of the teenage girls, because like the currently very embarrassed one before me, most of the servants in this area were middle-aged.
"I was wondering if we might be able to have a little lunch," I asked her politely, curtsying back when the woman hurriedly tried to follow the rules of formality. "And I'm sorry about that."
"Oh! Uh, no, no! I'll have them b-bring lunch right away." She looked roundly mortified which was making me embarrassed now, so I let her go without any specifics and headed back to the courtyard. Legolas glanced up at me with that half smile as I told the others lunch would be on the way.
By this point Merry was insistent on Legolas translating bits and pieces of the song for us, and soon talk turned to the ocean itself. Gimli spoke of the Long Lake near Erebor and how, if you stood on the northernmost shore, you could almost imagine it was the sea. Then the hobbits shared stories of the three White Towers far to the west of the Shire, which they said you could see the ocean from. Pippin insisted Bilbo had gone out that far once before, but Merry disagreed, and there was a short squabble over the truth.
"Have you ever seen the ocean, Miss Maddie?" Pippin asked, once the matter had been settled. (Bilbo had gone closer than any hobbit, but maybe not quite to the foot of the tower, and certainly not up one!)
"Of course," I said thoughtlessly, only realizing a moment later that by the trend of the conversation none of them had ever seen it. Merry and Pippin looked pleasantly surprised and Legolas rather wistful.
"I've heard that it's totally flat, even when there's waves. Some say it's as deep as a mountain is tall!" Pippin said.
"Horrid dangerous though," said Merry. When he wasn't planning mischief he was the voice of reason to Pippin's infectious enthusiasm. "You'd need the right boat to even go out on it. It's nothing like a river."
"I've heard it's like fields of grain the color of stormy skies to the edge of the world," Gimli put in after a moment, strangely poetic for a dwarf. "At night it's black as the sky, but the waves that crash on the shore are white as the moon." There was surprised silence in response to that, and the dwarf seemed to realize that he hadn't quite sounded like himself. "We get pearls from far southern traders sometimes, and that's what they say," he defended gruffly.
"It is something like that," I filled in. I'd been to ports and waterfronts and beaches often enough that the sight of the sea didn't stir much in me. I was beginning to understand the meaning of 'taking what you have for granted'. "It is beautiful, and there's nothing like it."
"When did you see it?" Merry asked, shifting up from where he laid sprawled on the ground.
"Oh, I didn't live too far from it. In the summers my family and I would go sometimes to the… the place were the sand meets the water." I frowned at the missing word. It was less and less often that I found myself missing vocabulary, but sometimes a word as common as "beach" simply failed me. Somehow as long as I'd been here no one had said it.
"The shore?" Merry asked, and before I could answer Legolas stirred, looking south towards the river, attention moved completely away.
"There are gulls on the far horizon!" We all looked over, but Legolas' Elven eyesight was a lot better than ours. "Their voices bring trouble and wonder to me, of salt-air and waves. The songs sing of the sea as a place like no other, and one I've never seen."
Elves didn't generally have as readable expressions and voices as everyone else (and Dwarves' beards hid theirs), but there was something painful in both his excitement and longing. I had no idea what would become of Legolas after the War of the Ring, but at that moment I didn't know whether to hope he would find the ocean, or fear that he might one day.
"It can't be that far from Minas Tirith," I murmured softly. I was unsure of the distance, particularly if you're traveling by horse, but seabirds only went so far inland. I couldn't see them, but the wind was blowing their cries towards us, and they were vaguely familiar to me. They must have come up following the boats from the south.
Legolas' face was a mix of desire and sadness as he watched the birds dip and lift in the air. "If we should come out of the battle in tact, then it pains my heart to say that it will find a way back to where the gulls cry. All my kinsmen hide within them a longing for the surge of the sea, and now my heart too has been stirred."
It was a bit surprising that someone who had been alive for so long had failed to see the ocean at some point or another, but I got the feeling that Legolas didn't quite realize how powerful the yearning would be until the sound of what had to be seagulls. It was curious that he found them so haunting when I mostly associated seagulls with stolen hotdogs.
"There are other things to see," Gimli said quickly and loudly, easily covering the gulls' cries with his booming voice. Suddenly the hobbits too were piping in to tell Legolas to wait on visiting the ocean, as though he had proposed to leave at once and never come back.
"You can't leave yet, Legolas! We've hardly finished this journey and you're planning on another." That was Pippin.
"Pip's right! People still need you here!" Merry added.
Gimli seemed to carry the most weight though, and I vaguely recalled Legolas and his' friendship growing with the Fellowship. "If all the fair folk should leave, those of us doomed to stay will forever lack. There are many places in these lands you haven't yet seen."
"Indeed," Legolas said with laughter in his voice, seeming pleased by everyone's unexpected protests. He was far more jocund than any other Elves I'd met, and I wasn't sure if that was just the company, the elation from a successful battle, or just plain Legolas. Either way, I was definitely going to have to introduce him to Erynion. "I have promised to return to Fangorn when our deeds are done, so the call of the waters must wait a time."
"Well if you're headed that way you might as well come to the Shire!" Pippin added eagerly, and Gimli nearly roared with laughter.
"The Shire's not so near there, Master Hobbit," he chided gently, still snorting.
"I would not mind seeing the homeland of the Hobbits. I imagine it a peaceful place," Legolas said kindly.
That set off the hobbits of course, who always had a good word to say about their beloved Shire. The moment they drew breath though Gimli just had to bring up the mountain, so of course Legolas mentioned his forest. Before long I was trying to squirm out of saying anything definitive about my homeland because the others had noticed I hadn't added my two cents.
"Is it near a forest, or perhaps near mountains? Or no, by the ocean? You said it was not far from the water." Pippin asked curiously, and I leaned back on my hands wondering if I should just outright lie.
"It has all of those."
"It is as big as Gondor?"
"I don't know how big Gondor is, but perhaps," I hedged, and that seemed to satisfy them. Legolas didn't seem too curious, still caught up in the gulls, and Gimli was mollified when I said we had tall mountains, though none like Erebor.
The talk turned to travel in general, and the hobbits begged the story of the Paths of Dead from Legolas and Gimli, which had become as much a part of the rumor mill about Aragorn as the secret fire thing was to me. It wasn't a particularly happy story, but it certainly made Aragorn sound heroic, and Legolas couldn't help a jab or two at Gimli. The grumbling dwarf denied being nervous in what amounted to a massive catacomb, firmly stating that no dwarf would ever be uncomfortable underground.
We were interrupted by lunch, brought out by no less than six maidservants, though I'm not sure that many were strictly necessary. I had to cover my mouth at how many sneaky looks they shot Legolas, who was blithely ignoring them and talking to Gimli. The hobbits were laughing to each other too, at least until the food was laid out on a second picnic blanket. There was roast duck cooked in a sizzling dark red marinade, with carrots and potatoes arranged neatly around it. There were two soft cheeses and bread on another dish, with butter and sweet jams laid out side by side. I saw a pan full of steamed asparagus and mushrooms, and what looked like a river fish arranged on rice that smelled of onions and garlic and basil. There was even a chilled, creamy soup that looked like clam chowder at first glance, but smelled of sweet potato and bright herbs. It all made my stomach rumble, and I was almost as quick as a hobbit to snatch up a plate.
There wasn't much talk during lunch as we ate, cleaning through dish after dish. The hobbits discussed exactly what ingredients must be in the marinade while Gimli dribbled juices all through his beard. I was savoring all the flavors since I hadn't eaten like this in a long time. Unfortunately I didn't have anywhere near the capacity to eat like the others, so I was the first to put down my plate. I felt almost ready to burst and drowsily contemplated what Westron term would translate closest to "food coma".
Legolas, who ate as neatly and thoughtfully as Elves everywhere, finished up by slowly sipping the soup, like each mouthful required careful thinking. Then there was Gimli, who looked like he might have tried to compete with the hobbits and then come to regret it. Merry and Pippin, however, were still amiably joking and eating hearty scoops of potatoes and vegetables while I thought one more grain of rice might tip me right over.
"Where do they put it all?" I heard Gimli mutter to himself, rubbing his belly like it was sore.
Legolas was looking up at the sun to judge the time. "My kin will have finished their meals by now. I will take my leave and seek them." He stood up easily, really almost springing, and I sat up too.
"Wait, to the Elves? The ones from Lothlórien too?"
"The Grey Company," Legolas confirmed.
"I'm looking for an Elf there too." It took me a longer moment to roll to my feet.
"Then we shall go together. They are camped near the river."
We said our goodbyes to the hobbits—who were still eating—and Gimli, who looked ready to roll over and nap. I caught sight of some hurried maids darting around a corner as we left the courtyard; I'm sure trying to glimpse Legolas.
We took the horses down to the first level, Thunor happy to get out as always. Legolas didn't ride with any tack, which was an unexpected surprise for the groom. The poor guy had fallen over himself to help the both of us prepare the horses, only to see Legolas singing to his white steed and the horse very nearly dancing out the stable after him without even reins on. I had glanced dubiously at Thunor, sure that without the stirrups I would never be able to get up on him, let alone stay seated without the saddle. Elves, I thought, shaking my head.
Once we were free of the stable and I'd managed to wiggle around with the cloak so I wasn't sitting on it or tangled in it, Legolas and I rode down through Minas Tirith to the fields below. The evacuees of the city were returning, so the streets were quite busy with people clearing up rubble from the streets and starting repairs to many of the damaged edifices. We were given a very wide berth as we rode, people stopping and staring and more than a little pointing. Legolas managed not to look self-conscious at all, which was quite the feat in my opinion, because I was trying hard not to make eye contact.
The bottom two levels were the biggest messes, and I could only imagine how distraught the people who lived there must think of the damage. Still, we passed by many teams of people leveling boulders off of crushed houses and cleaning up debris, even families and children getting involved. I wondered if Rylan, Merewald, and Adelaide were somewhere here clearing out the remains of their home. I promised myself I would find out what happened to them.
Legolas led the way out of the city walls, through the broken gate that already a group of men were scrambling to take apart so a temporary one could replace it, and out on to yesterday's battlefield. They had removed all the bodies which made it look infinitely better, but it was impossible to hide the churned up dirt, the flies that still buzzed around, and the general smell of the place. The heaviest fighting had been in patches, including right at the gate, so I pushed Thunor into a canter to escape the worst of it. I didn't want to remember what I'd seen riding out to Aragorn, but it was impossible to forget it.
We rode towards the river, eventually seeing a massive city of tents that had to be most of the Rohirrim army, along with the southern Gondorians who'd come up the river with Aragorn, and the Grey Company. Minas Tirith was in no shape to accommodate them all, so it seemed most of the outside armies were camping here.
"The Grey Company occupy the northern flank," Legolas said as we slowed to a trot, sweeping an arm out to point to a flat area that had fewer tents than anywhere else. "You say you are looking for a Lothlórien Elf?"
I nodded, but Legolas didn't ask for more detail. As we approached, I realized that most of the Rangers and Elves just slept on bedrolls on the ground, rather than inside tents like the other soldiers. There were groups here and there of Rangers who paid us no mind, most sharpening weapons or fixing armor. I wondered where the Lothlórien Elves were and whether Erynion really was among them.
Legolas called out an Elvish greeting to a group of Elves sitting beside the river. They were dressed in the pale silver and brown of the Golden Wood, no longer in the plated armor I'd seen the day before. There was a flurry of conversation I couldn't understand before Legolas waved to me and rode off without a single explanation. I was left staring at a group of about ten Elves that were clearly waiting for me to speak.
"I'm looking for… or well… I was wondering if an Elf named Erynion came with you." I shifted awkwardly on Thunor, wondering if I should dismount, or whether I would look stupid if they immediately told me to ride off somewhere else. Elves, especially in groups like this, made me nervous because of their eerily accurate ability to read people, along with how unnaturally beautiful they were. Lothlórien Elves were also less welcoming than the Rivendell ones, compounding this.
"Erynion is among our number. He may be with the others at the forge," one of them supplied, pointing in the direction of a large group of people. I could see a fair number of blonds, so I supposed that was what he was talking about.
"Thank you very much."
I wheeled Thunor around and rode over to the crowd, which was set up around a temporary forge to fix the most dented and broken armor. Most of the rangers looked to be here, as did a good number of Elves.
I dismounted just as several of the Elves nearby turned to glance at me. "Erynion?" I asked, feeling uncomfortable as several of the Rangers also turned to look at me. I was very aware of the damn flame cloak at the moment and how it drew the eye.
One Elf melted out of the crowd dressed in the colors of Lothlórien and, after a slightly prolonged look, I was sure it was Erynion.
"Gi suilon," he said, and walked straight past me to pet Thunor on the nose. I couldn't help frowning a tiny bit at his back. I get half a glance and Thunor gets the equivalent of a hug?
"Don't spoil him," I said, realizing I hadn't really planned what to say if I found Erynion again. Hi? Long time no see? Good to see you're still kicking? What the hell are you doing here? It left me fumbling for words. He probably thought I was weird for just randomly showing up looking for him.
"The stories say you wield fire," Erynion said abruptly, because he absolutely did not warm up to a topic. He pulled a sugar cube out of his pocket to give to Thunor and I sighed. He spoils my horse after I tell him not to, and brings up the one topic I'd prefer to let die.
"Have you ever seen me wield fire?" It was mostly rhetorical, which is how Erynion treated most things I said. The Elf wasn't paying me much mind, giving me only about half his attention any time I spoke. After having most people's undivided attention on me, this was both a relief and an annoyance. That pretty much summed up Erynion, come to think of it. Why had I sought him out? "Did I talk to you yesterday?"
He glanced over at me then started to lead Thunor away, forcing me to follow. Typically, he didn't answer.
"Yesterday. I came looking for Aragorn and talked to an Elf. He had a helmet, so I couldn't see his face."
"You spoke to my brother."
Well no wonder then.
"He is very like you," I informed him. Erynion let go of Thunor's reins, and like a puppy the horse followed behind him, probably hoping for more sugar cubes. "You should meet Legolas," I pressed, because the silence was moving dangerously towards awkward as Erynion continue to say nothing. "He is very friendly."
Blue eyes glanced at me, and I knew he got my meaning—Legolas was a lot more friendly than he was, and not half as annoying.
"Why did you come to Minas Tirith?" I was only a little curious, since I knew Aragorn had something to do with it.
"To fight."
"Yes, obviously, but why? Not many Elves are fighting in the war."
"The war affects us all. Though a victory has been predicted." I got a look out of the corner of his eye, which made me scowl.
"So you only came because you thought victory was definite?" Erynion didn't take the bait from my mostly sarcastic response. He just shrugged a bit; elegantly enough that no amount of court training could mimic it, and led Thunor over to a bedroll and small travel sack that I guessed must be his. The horse nudged his hand, but thankfully this time no magical sugar cube appeared.
"You have changed," he said, looking more directly at me now and gently pushing Thunor's head away. "There was no burden on your shoulders before."
"I didn't even know what orcs were then," I said, trying to lighten the conversation. I wasn't ready to return to my discussion with Gandalf or Boromir yet.
Erynion turned away and from his bag produced a bristled brush that definitely wasn't for use on human hair and started to brush down Thunor's coat. It took me a moment to realize that wasn't perfectly random, but that he must have ridden a horse down here too. I didn't quite know what to do since he was keeping busy and I was just kind of standing here.
"You were an unsharpened arrow not drawn yet."
"What?" What kind of metaphor was that? I wasn't sure if I should be insulted or if he meant it as a compliment.
"Released now, though the point is a little soft," Erynion continued, completely ignored the angry noise that escaped me at the assertion of a "soft point". I had a feeling that one was not the nicest way he could have said that.
"What are you saying?"
He continued brushing, then casually looked at me over his shoulder. He seemed to be scrutinizing me. "Why did you come find me?"
I blinked, caught off guard by the total change in topic. "I thought I spoke to you yesterday, but I wasn't sure." I hadn't really thought about it beyond that, which was clearly shortsighted. "I don't know many people here," I added, when the elf continued to silently watch me, waiting. I exhaled a bit harshly. "Gandalf is more frustrating than you, and Boromir is always busy. Éomer is… The Fellowship is The Fellowship and well, maybe I should just have gone to see Éowyn and not you."
I don't quite know where it all came from, but Erynion was still looking at me, even ignoring the nudge of Thunor's head on his arm to continue brushing. I made an aggravated noise and reached for the reins, intending to leave the Elf and find Éowyn, even if I had to go through Éomer first. I was embarrassed and confused and I just wanted to escape the situation.
"You are burdened," he repeated from before. "What are you pointed at?" He pulled the reins back along Thunor's shoulders, not letting me grab them.
"I don't know what you mean."
"You went to save the Man Boromir, ill-advised as it might have been. What now is your arrow aimed at?"
I really, really didn't want a repeat of this morning, but Erynion wasn't looking to go easy on me, if he ever had. "I don't know," I said, aggravated. "That's the problem. But I'll figure it out. Now I'm going to go and—"
"A soft point is a soft heart. Not all arrows are meant to kill."
I had to pause because Erynion was echoing Gandalf. Elves really did have a creepy way of guessing what was on your mind.
"I have killed." Two orcs: one with a knife to the back of the neck, the other with a blade to the skull. That was visceral proof I wasn't as softhearted as I looked.
"You walked for a month without complaint. Over a mountain, a river, through forests and plains." Erynion let the reins go, but I didn't reach for them. Was he admitting I hadn't been quite as much a pain in the ass as he expected when we'd trekked from Rivendell to Lothlórien? Even when I'd been so utterly unaware?
"You felt ill at the death of a rabbit," he added, starting to brush back over Thunor's withers.
All lovely thoughts of my endurance and mettle ground to a halt. "You didn't have to prepare it in front of me."
Erynion just shrugged, and I hoped Thunor stepped on his foot.
"Did you know there are flames embroidered on the bottom?" said Éowyn laughingly. I huffed as I straightened up. Jumping down from the high window of her hospital room into the grassy courtyard ended up a lot more dramatic—and dangerous—than anticipated, because the darn cloak got tangled up in my feet. Batman, I was not.
"Trust me, I know," I said with annoyance. "I just don't know who gave it to me and there's no note or anything."
"What about the Lord Boromir or his brother?" Éowyn landed neatly on her feet, even with the skirt of her dress. The courtyard was thankfully empty of people otherwise we might have gotten into trouble for essentially breaking out of the hospital. They'd told Éowyn to take seven days of rest, which she'd given up on after barely twenty-four hours.
"I asked Boromir this morning, but he didn't know. I haven't seen him since then, and I haven't seen Faramir either."
Éowyn looked thoughtful as we strode out of the courtyard and into the hallways. Neither of us knew where we were going, but that wasn't really the point. Éowyn just wanted to escape her hospital room, and I was happy to focus my attention on the cloak and not on all the heavy thoughts of earlier. After talking to Erynion I ridden the glossy Thunor back up to the seventh level, and then ended up seeking out Éowyn because I couldn't avoid the new Rohirrim royals forever. Thankfully Éowyn had been looking for something to get her mind off recent events, and running away from the nurses was just the remedy. She was a terrible influence on me.
"Perhaps another friend of yours in Minas Tirith?"
I shook my head, unable to even imagine the Kinseys doing something like that, and no one else I knew had that kind of money. At least, I thought the cloak must have been expensive with all the work put into it. "It must have been Faramir, who else?"
We dropped the topic though as we came out of the corridors on to a quiet street just down the road from the stables. Without even discussing it, Éowyn and I both headed over to see how Windfola was getting along. I'd only left Thunor half an hour ago when I went to see Éowyn, but he perked up just the same when he saw me. Maybe he was secretly a dog in another life—no wait; he would be a hell of a lot more friendly if that were the case.
I held out my hand, and somehow he managed to look disappointed that I didn't have a sugar cube or other treat on me. I just shook my head as I stroked the soft hair between his eyes. "I'm going to kill Erynion for giving you those you know," I said as sweetly as possible, knowing that animals responded to tone of voice not words. Unfortunately Thunor was either a really intelligent horse or not a particularly nice one (and we know which way I lean), because in response he huffed a cloud of smelly breath in my face.
"Oh! Éomer's horse is here too!" I heard Éowyn exclaim from a couple stalls over. I couldn't help my heart sinking a bit at the mention of the new King of Rohan. I hadn't seen him since the strategy session, but I doubted a few short hours were going to make any difference on his opinion of me.
"Maddie?" Éowyn called, and I left Thunor with one more pat to see what she needed. "Is there a bucket or something with brushes out there?" Éowyn stood beside Firefoot, who was another big Mearas with similar coloring to Windfola. He had less breadth than Thunor but was leaner, more like a sprinter, and there was a definite intelligence in his eyes.
I retrieved the brushes, and Éowyn and I had only just started brushing down his withers and tail when Éomer rounded the corner, a bucket full of more brushes and wax for the saddle in his hands. "Éowyn! What are you doing out of bed!" He dropped the bucket with a clatter, and I froze with the brush in the air. Only Éowyn looked unperturbed.
"Fresh air and exercise," she said, looking a bit exasperated. "Maddie will make sure I'm okay."
I really wished she hadn't mentioned me, because as soon as Éomer approached the front of the stall his eyes flicked to mine, and I knew immediately he still wasn't happy with me. How could he be, since his uncle was dead and I might have been able to do something about it?
"You should not be out," Éomer argued, brow heavy.
"I cannot lay in bed all day, brother. I only came to see the horses."
Éomer looked frustrated, but I'm sure he was torn between understanding his sister's desire and wanting the best for her health. "You need to be careful."
Éowyn just shook her hair, still brushing down Firefoot, while I stood by still holding my brush but no longer touching Éomer's horse. He wasn't leaving, and Éowyn looked to be in a stubborn mood. I felt like my presence wasn't making this any easier. "Maybe I should go," I said softly, glancing at Éomer before quickly looking away.
Éomer opened his mouth to respond, but Éowyn grabbed my hand and pushed Firefoot's tail into it. "I know my brother's mind, and this new burden of kingship weighs on him. You are guiltless concerning my uncle, Maddie, just as the man who sees a farm aflame but brings water too late to save the family. He will forgive you in time." An awkward atmosphere descended on us after her words, and some meaningful look passed between the siblings that I deliberately didn't interpret.
"What is 'aflame'?" I whispered as the silence stretched.
"On fire," Éomer supplied abruptly, and he looked terribly uncomfortable, like he wasn't sure what to do with his hands or where to look. "Perhaps I should speak with Lady Maddie for a moment."
It was a good thing horses didn't have nerves at the end of their tails, otherwise Firefoot would have complained when my hand tightened around it. Éowyn eyed her brother, but after a moment she took the brush from me and she seemed to be smiling. I just hoped she really did know his mind.
Éomer led me just farther down the stable, out of hearing range I suppose, or maybe it didn't matter. I wished I had something to do so I didn't just stand here twisting my hands waiting for the shoe to drop.
"I spoke with Lord Boromir after the council this morning," Éomer started, and he looked like he wanted to pace but there wasn't space. "I also spoke with Lord Aragorn, and of course my sister. We go into battle tomorrow, and I learned from my uncle never to leave for battle in anger." He rubbed the back of his neck, and I tried to wait patiently and let him get it out, though all I wanted to do was burst into more apologies. "…Lord Boromir said there is some magic at work, and reminded me that not even Gandalf is all seeing. I… apologize if I was unkind after learning of my uncle's death."
"You don't need to apologize," I interrupted quickly. "This is war, yes, but I-, I should have done something. I'm sorry that I did not think in time to, and well…" I was wringing my hands in front of me, surprised that he was already addressing this, and really, really not wanting to mess this up.
"There is no guarantee, and war is war," said Éomer tiredly, and he looked more drawn than I'd ever seen him. It wasn't a great look, with his shaggy hair and unkempt beard. If it weren't for the finery of his clothes he would have looked like a vagabond. "I am king now in all but ceremony."
"You will be a great one." I meant it. I didn't actually remember much of what happened once the story was over, other than Frodo leaving on a ship, but I was sure Rohan prospered with Éomer at the helm. I thought he had all the trappings of a good king at least.
He peeked at me through his falling hair, and it occurred to me then that even though he knew he would be in this role one day, it didn't mean he wasn't insecure about it. "Truly," I tacked on, banking on how much reliance people had in my predictions for once.
Éomer exhaled slowly and seemed to regain himself. He led me back to Éowyn without a word, and then opened Thunor's stall door and led the destrier out with a couple clicks of his tongue. Somebody was going to have to teach me how to do that one day.
"Then as King of Rohan," he said, and Éowyn stopped brushing Firefoot to come to the stall door, "and as thanks for saving my dear sister and being friend to her when she had few, I bestow upon you this steed. May his feet be ever swift, his stride unbreaking, and may he take you far and afield safely."
He nudged Thunor to me, and I gently stroked the big horse's cheeks as he lipped at my fingers, feeling overwhelmed and happy like I hadn't been since the stress of the war seemed to hit me. Éomer was still as shaggy as a homeless man, but his shoulders were stiff and proud like a king's.
"Thank you, Lord Éomer. I promise to treat him well."
Éomer nodded to me and retreated back out of the stable. Éowyn was leaning against the stall door with a soft smile on her face that slowly morphed into a speculative look. "You know, if you should like to breed him I know some good mares that would birth a fine steed one day."
"Breed him?" I laughed out, thankfully getting my bearings back and feeling more lighthearted than I had in what felt like weeks. "And let there be more little Thunor's in the world? I'm not sure it's ready for that."
Éowyn laughed to herself and went back to brushing down Firefoot as I struggled to talk Thunor back into his stall. Once he was out of it he didn't want to go back in. I tried pushing his backside in the direction of the stall but he just kept going in circles so he was never facing the right way. Eventually I gave up and decided to at least walk him around the paddock in the hope that might convince him to cooperate. Éowyn popped her head past Firefoot's stall to see why I was walking Thunor past her. "Are you going riding?"
I turned back, feeling slightly embarrassed but also just plain frustrated. "I tried begging and pushing, but he won't go back in the stall. I think I'll walk him for a moment."
Éowyn was definitely laughing at me as she made a clicking sound with her tongue that made Thunor's ears twitch backward. "Come here Thunor," she called softly, and then added something in Rohirric and my name. She made more cooing and clicking noises along with handfuls of Rohirric until the stubborn horse went back willingly. Éowyn stepped out of Firefoot's stall and helped me guide Thunor back into his. Once he was in I patted his neck affectionately. This may be a damn intelligent and mulish horse, but he was mine now. I felt him drape his head over me and start snuffling at my hair, and I liked to think he was returning the feeling.
"He's a good horse," Éowyn said quietly once I disentangled myself. She looked melancholy, with her beautiful wavy hair framing a long face, offset by the black cloak she'd pulled on. "We will bury Snowmane tomorrow, though Éomer cannot be there."
"Snowmane?" I asked quietly.
"Uncle's horse."
I didn't know what to say, but I knew just from glancing at Thunor how much that would hurt. I'd loved my family's dogs at home, but we'd lost them before and gotten new ones. They may be man's best friend, but Thunor and I had been through so much that I wasn't sure if any horse could replace him when he was gone.
"I am so sorry Éowyn." She was still hurting from her uncle's death, and since I still felt somewhat responsible for it I didn't even know where to begin to comfort her, of even if that would do any good at all.
"Come, let's find a garden and fresh air. I think I may need to sit," she said, looking to put it out of mind. I took her arm just in case, and we slipped out of the stables and back into the maze of streets and eventually corridors of the guest halls and hospital of the sixth level. Eventually we found a nice spot in a garden with an excellent view of the western side of Gondor. That area at least had been spared the worst of the fighting, and past the great wall it almost didn't look like battle had touched it at all.
"What will you do while the men fight?" Éowyn asked me, as we sat on a bench overlooking the fields.
I tucked my chin in my hand, contemplating the horizon. "I don't know. I might see if some old friends of mine on the first level are okay. I don't really know what else to do."
"What about after? If you do not stay in Gondor, you would always be welcome in Rohan."
I shrugged, still not settled when it came to questions of after the war. At times it seemed like a vast, looming void ahead of me, sometimes near and sometimes far. "I will worry about that after it is over."
A door closed somewhere above us on the balcony, and I glanced back in time to see Faramir addressing a nurse. When he turned and saw us he made for the stairs. He looked pale still and moved gingerly, but what caught me the most was his face. He looked almost resigned, and I couldn't imagine the amount of stress he'd been under in recent weeks on top of his father's abrupt death.
Faramir was stronger than I knew though, because by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs he looked more himself, not a hint of what was underneath showed in his voice or expression. "I see you did not wander far, Lady Maddie. And this must be the missing Lady Éowyn. There was a small uproar from the nurses when you were discovered missing."
"My Lord Faramir," Éowyn said, rising from the bench to curtsy. I thought about doing the same, but Faramir waved it off and came to stand beside us. "I hope I didn't cause too much trouble for them," she said, and I swear she looked almost impish.
"I can hardly judge, as I was told to keep strict bed-rest and yet found myself on the seventh level this morning." Faramir smiled down at her. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced."
I recognized the hint and stood up to introduce them, wondering if I was witnessing love at first sight. "Faramir, or well, Lord Faramir, this is Éowyn, sister of Éomer, King of Rohan. Éowyn, this is Lord Faramir, Steward Boromir's brother and Captain of the… Gondorian Rangers?"
"Rangers of Ithilien, but close," Faramir corrected, though he was still looking only at her. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Éowyn." He bowed formally, and she curtsied again. Faramir seemed to take to this sort of courtly stuff naturally, but I would bet money Boromir wasn't so smooth.
"And a pleasure it is to make yours, Lord Faramir. I hope you are recovering well from the battle."
"I am, as I see you are too. You were very brave on the battlefield, or so I heard, and it seems you have made a strong recovery." He tipped his head at her. "My deepest condolences on the passing of your uncle and king."
"Thank you," she said somberly, the wound fresh. "I too express my sorrow at the passing of your father, the Steward."
"They were both strong men, and hopefully will be judged kindly by history." Faramir's expression was hard to read.
"Indeed. I am sure tales will be sung of your deeds in this war too." Éowyn said, easily moving away from that difficult topic. "Perhaps you'll even earn another title as fine as Maddie's." She arched an eyebrow at me, and I resisted rolling my eyes.
"If I could give you mine I would," I joked as they both chuckled. I didn't want to interrupt their moment, but I really did want to figure out where this cloak came from. "Faramir, do you happen to know who gave me this?"
He glanced at the cloak I pulled around as though seeing it for the first time, and his brow furrowed a bit. "I did request some winter wear be made for you, as spring can be damp in Gondor, but I think you have a made a friend of the seamstresses. I certainly did not ask for anything like that."
"I don't know any of them," I frowned.
"But they likely know of you," Éowyn put in.
"Yes, and many seamstresses aided in the hospitals where men needed stitching and dressing. Their skills lend themselves to those tasks."
I fluttered the bottom of the cloak a bit to see the flames wave. It was well… an anti-climatic answer, but I just hoped the seamstresses held off on any more embroidery at this point. "I will have to thank them I suppose, even if I do think this is a little much."
"You've worn the cloak all day, up and down the city," Éowyn noted. "That should be thanks enough."
"Speaking of thanks, I owe you mine," Faramir added, finally seeming to draw his attention fully away from Éowyn. "Boromir told me how you retrieved Lord Aragorn from the battlefield to save us. It appears my brother and I may forever be in your debt."
"You are not in my debt, I'm simply glad you're okay. Both of you."
"Will you be well enough to fight, come tomorrow milord?" Éowyn asked gently, and Faramir shifted attention back to her.
"This arm is not well enough yet," he said regretfully, touching his shoulder. "Even with the poison gone it has drained me, and I tire easily. I will remain a prisoner of the healers and with the city guard here in case of any attack."
"I am sorry to hear that. I too would like to fight for my home, as my brother does now. I fear what would become of Éomer though if I should try." There was a smile flickering about her mouth as she looked at Faramir. The two were making some serious eye contact.
"What a diplomatic mess that should be, if I let you sneak off to join the army! Did you know Pippin was asked to make sure Miss Maddie did not do the very same thing?"
Éowyn laughed, and Faramir's features lit up in a way that made me rather wish someone looked at me like that. "Well Merry did a poor job of it in that case, though he too was a hero on the battlefield. Do you know if the hobbits will join the march tomorrow?"
"I do not, I'm afraid."
There was a brief lull in the conversation, which I took as my exit. "Well both of us shall be here at the very least. I'm apparently overdue for a lecture from Boromir anyway." I'd let him talk my ear off so long as he came back alive and didn't make his father's words true. "However, I may be in the lower levels helping with cleaning up, but Éowyn is also recovering in the wards and will need all the company she can get." I gestured to her, and my spirits lifted when Éowyn flashed me a grateful look.
"I do know of a few hidden spots around here, thanks to my brother and mine's explorations in our youth. I would be happy to show you, Lady Éowyn." I was pretty sure he was hiding a grin, and she was definitely blushing a bit.
"That would be wonderful, Lord Faramir. Anything to get a little air."
I was the best wingman in the world, I thought as I excused myself with some made up promise to Pippin. Faramir had eyes only for her from the beginning, and she him. I needed all the good feelings I could get, because today had been an emotional rollercoaster, and tomorrow was shaping up to be another one.