Writer's Note: Here it is! Let's all hope nobody is OOC this chapter because I've got plans for the next one that will finally get Maddie moving again. (Thunor really needs to stretch his legs anyway.)
Disclaimer: I make no money from this work. Anything recognizable from The Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R Tolkien. I also don't own Lego's.
Chapter Twenty-Six: A Gun in a Swordfight
A maid came to wake me early the next morning, before even dawn, and when I groggily opened the door she was standing there with a pile of cloth in three different colors in her arms. Even with the weight, she was still able to curtsy, and she had apparently been able to knock. I was not awake enough to register how that was possible.
"Good morning milady. Some new dresses have been made for you."
Oh no, I thought with dread, startling more alert now. I looked down at the pile of conservative colors and wondered what crazy embroidery was going to be on these.
I let the maid in and she laid out the dresses on the bed while I poked the fire in the hearth to get a little more warmth. Mornings were still chilly here, and Faramir hadn't been kidding when he said spring was wet in Gondor. The dampness could chill to the bone if you let it. When I'd sufficiently wasted time poking the coals, I turned to see the dresses and actually exhaled in relief loudly enough that the maid looked over confused. "Which would you like to wear milady?"
There were three: a light grey that rather gloomily matched the sky out my window, a pale brown like butcher block wood, and a dark green with silver trim. They were all fancier dresses than I'd worn before, but it was more in the extra flourish on the collars, lacings, and material rather than any elaborate designs.
"The green, please."
The maid quickly hung the other two in my wardrobe, which had quite the mishmash of dresses. I had the Elvish one, which had been whisked away last night to be cleaned so it wasn't hanging there, but the pale lavender of it certainly stuck out. I also had one of my last dresses from my time as a maidservant, and the poor thing looked particularly tattered and old compared to these two new ones she added.
With the maid's help I got dressed, laced up, and my hair done, which she insisted on leaving down with a few small braids as accent in it. Then she popped away from the small vanity and grabbed my cloak from where it hung on the back of the door. "Uh, I think this dress is thick enough," I said quickly, rising up and shaking my head.
"Milady, it can be quite cold here…"
"I know, but… the color wouldn't match anyway." Thankfully that was a better argument than complaining about the elaborate flame design. The maid seemed to realize I would look like a Christmas card—or well, that green and red were maybe a bit strong together—because she relented and put the cloak away.
Once she left, I headed over to the kitchens and breakfast halls, where I found Merry seated over an early meal with not nearly as much gusto as befitting a hobbit. I had my own plate of bread and eggs put before me as I sat down. "Good morning."
"Good morning," he replied, and despite having six plates in front of him it wasn't a cheery greeting.
"What's happened?" I asked worriedly. Surely there wasn't some other complication on top of everything.
"Pippin will be going with the army," he said despondently, "but Aragorn says I cannot."
I wasn't surprised, but I could understand where Merry was coming from, and I put down my knife and fork to reach over the table and pat him on the hand. Pippin would be the one into battle now, and Merry could only sit here and wait for news. I felt much the same in regards to Boromir; it was a cold lump in my stomach if I let myself think about it. "I won't be going, and neither will Éowyn or Faramir. We'll find a way to be useful here Merry," I said encouragingly.
"Lord Faramir won't be going either?"
"I have a feeling Aragorn and Boromir ganged up on him," I said a little more lightly, which seemed to lift Merry's spirits a bit. "And Éowyn was upset too, though I daresay she won't mind the company."
"What do you mean?" He was starting to look curious, which was a good sign to me.
"Well, you can't tell anyone," I said in a bit of hush, and Merry leaned forward obligingly, "but I introduced her and Lord Faramir yesterday, and they seemed quite taken with each other." I winked, and Merry actually started to smile.
"Wonder what Boromir will make of that?" He bit into a sausage, and nothing showed a revived hobbit more than his appetite.
I shrugged, buttering a piece of toast and wondering if the jam off to the side was blackberry, raspberry, or blueberry. These thick glass jars made it difficult to tell just by look alone, and no one labeled anything. "Well, if he wants an alliance with Rohan he'll get it."
Merry snorted into his eggs, and we were at least a little more cheerful at breakfast after that. It wasn't easy though with all the signs of the army leaving around us. Servants were rushing to and fro with pots and plates from early breakfasts, and there was the clinking of armor and weapons echoing in the halls as the men who were not too badly injured geared up again. Pippin was conspicuously missing, but I didn't want to ask Merry where he was and bring his mood down again.
We left the kitchens and gardens after Merry finished his third helping. Out in the courtyard in front of the wards there was the last handful of men leaving in their armor. The way the helmets hung over their faces made their expressions hard to read, but I wondered if they were resigned to this, pumped up for it, or afraid. I couldn't blame them for feeling any of those emotions.
Going to the edge of the courtyard you could see down the side of Minas Tirith and on to the fields, now a dull brown from the churned up earth after all the fighting. There were gleaming lines of men in helmets gathered outside the gates, and a whole host of Rohirrim on horseback to one side. They didn't look organized to march yet, but most of the armies of Rohan and Gondor were already amassed, with the Elves and Rangers probably down there somewhere, too small in number to spot from up here. I wondered how early the captains must have woken to get everyone organized. Had Boromir or Aragorn even slept?
"We ought to go down. Do you know where Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn are?" Merry asked me. He had to stand on a bench to see, and he looked quite solemn as he stared down at the army. I thought the host looked impressive, but as Gandalf had said at the strategy meeting, we didn't have a vanguard's worth of men compared to the orc armies gathered in Mordor. I got a flash of the Black Gates, with enemies in the hills running down the craggy dirt and rocks to surround Aragorn's soldiers.
There are more of them now, I reminded myself, staring down at the assembled forces. I didn't know the numbers compared to the original story, but I had to believe there were at least a few more men following Aragorn than before. They will do it. Frodo will succeed. Ultimately I hadn't touched Frodo's journey, and that meant he should be on the same path to the volcano, and the outcome should be no different. It really came down to everyone's skill and endurance to outlast the assault on Mordor then. At least, that's what I hoped.
"Come on, we should go down to the first level. That's where everyone is," said Merry, pulling me from my reverie, and I took a breath to re-center myself. Once the army was gone it was all out of my hands. It wasn't a soothing thought; in fact, it was a terrifying one.
We went to the stables to find Thunor already saddled up, which the groom said Faramir had ordered. The horse was shaking his head from side to side as I approached, and Merry hesitated for half a second when the groom opened the stall door. The hobbit was so small he could walk between Thunor's legs.
It was hard enough mounting up in a skirt, but the groom had to basically lift Merry from a stool to get him on Thunor. The destrier snorted and stamped impatiently, and I tugged on his mane in reprimand. "Be patient. We'll be off soon enough," I said in English, to which Merry immediately requested a translation.
"How long have you spoken that language?" he asked as Thunor broke into a trot, never mind a walk, to get out of the stable and off the sixth level.
"All my life," I told him, carefully guiding the excited horse down a ramp made just for this use behind the stable.
"Your people don't speak Westron?"
"No, no, though the languages are similar." It had been such a relief to understand why after spending that first year full of nagging suspicion. Of course, it had been a greater relief once I'd gotten some command of the language. I really did have to go back to Bree and that town-near-Fornost to see those people again. How crazy I must have seemed to them, in my jeans and t-shirt seemingly speaking in tongues!
We were pretty much silent on the way down, me thinking about traveling up that way again and how much faster it would be on Thunor, and Merry, I supposed taking in the damage to the city. It was definitely looking better as we came down, though as we arrived on the first level much of it was still strewn with rubble. The larger streets had been cleared though, and there were no more fires.
By the gates were gathered lots of people both on horseback and walking, many of them uniformed soldiers probably trying to find their commanding officer. I don't think I fully appreciated what my inflated reputation meant until people were stepping out of the way and pushing back to let Thunor, Merry, and I get through. We'd gotten a good third of the way before someone up ahead called down to us.
"Milord and lady, Captain Faramir has requested you join him. I'll have a man show you where." I'm not sure my thanks was heard over the crowd of voices, but soon enough an Ithilien Ranger appeared ahead of us, beckoning us forward.
We didn't really need the guide because Shadowfax stood out like a beacon, and everyone else was giving their leaders some space, making Gandalf and the rest an island in the sea of men. Shadowfax was almost an albino white, which strangely didn't make Gandalf's robes look grey or dirty, but in fact more white. Too bad I didn't have that kind of magic, because the hems of every dress I'd ever worn would have appreciated it. I spurred Thunor to where Gandalf was talking with Aragorn, Faramir, and Éowyn. Legolas and Gimli were off to the side, looking to be arguing about the horse behind the elf.
"Miss Maddie," Gandalf said in greeting, standing beside his steed as we pulled up. Aragorn was beside him with his own horse who looked to almost be asleep. The King of Gondor was wearing extraordinary armor, with thick chainmail on his arms and gold curlicues on the ends of the gloves. The tunic was decorated with the tree and stars of Gondor, and the long handle of a giant sword peeked out from his hip. I would have thought Aragorn would look strange in that kind of intricate workmanship, being such a plain, unpretentious man, but I guessed the mantle of kingship changed people. He certainly stood as tall and proud as a king.
"I think I'll be needing a bit of help!" The hobbit's curly head poked out around me, and I realized I wouldn't be able to dismount until poor Merry did. Luckily, Legolas stepped up beside Thunor and basically carried the hobbit down. "Where's Pippin?" Merry said once he was on the ground, before I'd even swung my own feet over Thunor. "He'll be needing a word or two about recklessness."
"He's with Steward Boromir for the moment, but they'll be here shortly," replied Gandalf, looking past Merry to me then. I was still dusting off my hands from the tight grip on the saddle so my skirt didn't ride up, and missed his look. "Any last words before the battle?"
I looked up only to be stared at by Gandalf, Kingly Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Éowyn, and Faramir. Unexpectedly put on the spot, I of course couldn't remember the word I needed. "Um…" Boromir had definitely taught it to me, and I felt my throat dry up a bit more as Éomer rode over with Imrahil, both in shiny armor too. "It's… in the hills. A surprise attack. What is that called?"
"An ambush," Aragorn said gravely, and I guessed that was the right word, I couldn't remember.
"At the gates. They'll be in the rocks to surround you." I really hoped the movies exaggerated it or my memory was faulty, because I seemed to be remembering what looked like a Super Bowl stadium's worth of orcs versus a hundred men.
"Not surprising," drawled Gandalf, looking at Aragorn and then to Éomer. "A watchful eye doesn't hurt." The horse-lord nodded and shouted something short to a Rohirrim nearby, who turned about-face and galloped off.
Off to the side Merry was absorbed into the burliest hug I'd ever seen, with Gimli's beard not doubt smothering the hobbit, though it looked like he didn't mind. Faramir, Imrahil, and Aragorn were having a much manlier farewell, with lots of hands clasping shoulders and that sort of thing.
"Aren't you going to say goodbye to Éomer?" I asked Éowyn, wanting to look away from all of this because it was making that cold lump inside me swell like a balloon. I'd choke on it soon if I wasn't careful, and that's why I wasn't thinking about anything other than the immediate moment. It was going to hit me when they walked away, but I'd fight it off until then.
"We shared ours' this morning. I do not think I could bear to say the words again." Her face was pinched and tired, frigid like she was holding it together. "I do not wish to be left behind," she whispered.
"Me neither," I replied softly. The thought of another battle made me sick inside, but waiting calmly in the city was equally repulsive. I felt like Erynion's arrow metaphor, except that I was pointed at the ground.
"Pippin!" Merry cried, pulling away from Legolas and Gimli to where Aragorn was helping down the other hobbit.
Boromir had just ridden up with him, and he was sitting on his horse in the same plate mail as yesterday, but this time with a new charcoal cape with royal blue edge decorated in gold. His hair was windswept and features firm, the cape draped over the back of his horse elegantly, and he seemed to embody all the prestige of his family and office in that moment.
When he dismounted from his horse Faramir went straight over to embrace him, and the rest of us politely looked away from the brothers and Merry and Pippin, who were having their own subdued goodbye. The mood was steadily turning more solemn.
"We are nearly ready, milord," Imrahil said to Aragorn, one hand on his sword. He was decked out in silver and bright blue, and the bird crest was on the side of his helmet and his chest plate. "The Elvish scouts have already been sent out, and the first from Osgiliath returned without news."
Aragorn nodded seriously, surveying the men around him. "Good. As soon as the column is formed we'll march."
"Have you said goodbye yet to everyone?" Éowyn asked, interrupting the conversation I was watching.
"No, I've only seen Merry before coming here." Faramir and Boromir were still talking in hushed voices, and it was obvious at just a glance how hard it was for Faramir to stay behind. I remembered him telling me when we'd first met how much he preferred to be out fighting than behind a desk, and I think that feeling was exponentially higher when his brother was out there. My mind made the jump straight away to what he must have felt when he heard Boromir had died in the original story, how heartbreaking that must have been. And heavens… I might see it too if this all goes badly.
I bit my lip hard to stop that train of thought, but Aragorn was mounting up and galloping off, as was Gandalf, and Legolas and Gimli were waving as they too left. The lines of men were forming around us, armor glinting in the sun, helmets on, and it seemed impossible to pinpoint everything I was feeling. It was the last stand, the culmination of the war, and the end of my knowledge. I felt hollow, and then the hollowness filled up with fear.
"You do not look well, Miss Maddie," said Éomer gruffly from his horse. He had mounted up again and had been drawn back for a final word with Éowyn without my notice. "Did you not prophesize all would be well?"
"It's just words," I said a bit helplessly, feeling the catch in my throat. "It's different when you are dressed in armor on your horse about to go. The blood was just ink when I read it."
Éomer looked sympathetic but not understanding, and he had no answer for me. I'm not sure anything he or anyone else could have said would make this better. It felt like the first stage of grief, where all the pleasantries and logic in the world could not make the mourning heart stop. Until the Fellowship and all the rest came back—or orcs marched in their place—I wasn't going to be able to diminish this horrible feeling. I was afraid all would not end well, that Boromir would die and all the rest, that Frodo would fail. I was afraid I'd shifted them off the knife-edge and into the abyss.
"We must trust in metal now, not blood and ink. But a man's arm swings faster and surer with faith." Éomer turned his horse, which was nearly prancing in place, and gave me one more look.
"Be careful," I told him, because there was nothing else I could say. I was afraid yes, but as Éomer said now, and as Gandalf had told me before, I'd given them all I could. Taking up a sword I didn't know how to use and joining them wouldn't help anyone.
I felt Éowyn move away from me, and then Boromir was striding over trailed by his horse. The cape must have been made of some heavy, velvet material because it didn't flow behind him easily, but all the same he looked proud and great, worlds away from the grumpy, pessimistic man I'd first saved.
He stopped two steps short of me, and we both took each other in: one ready for war, and one about to succumb to it. "You look…" he paused, and I'm sure a hundred synonyms for "distraught" jumped to mind, but Boromir didn't say any of them. "You look very fine in green."
I actually laughed a bit, an echo of other hysterical laughs I'd made before. "I don't feel fine," I said thickly, and before he could respond I plowed on. "I feel… I cannot do anymore for you. I cannot help you." I clasped my hands together tightly for lack of anything to hold on to. Something about the man I'd spent the last few months focused on helping made this statement an even harder thing to swallow.
"There is a point where all men must help themselves," he said gently, coming a step closer. His shoulders looked too broad with the pauldrons, his expression too soft for his normally grim countenance.
"I know, but…"
"If I could hold the swords of all the men on the field I would. But I cannot. Nor should I."
"Please come back." It slipped out of me, but it was the most honest thing I could say. I liked Boromir, his depth and loyalty, his stalwartness and secretly gentle heart. I didn't want anything bad to happen to him, and it was a bit startling that it wasn't only because of his father's words or proving my existence in Middle Earth: it was for him. He was a man with hopes and dreams and a future so long as he came back alive, and I wanted that for him.
"You have already protected me once," he said. "That is more than anyone could ask. Let us go bravely into this fight without doubt or fear."
I swallowed, stunned a bit by his courage. "I do not doubt you will succeed," and I couldn't say I believed it with all my heart, but I was going to fake it until I did, because that's what he needed of me. "I only fear that… you won't return."
Boromir's hand hesitated before it tentatively landed on my shoulder. It was heavy, given the added weight of his armor, but that seemed to make it all the more reassuring. "All soldiers know they can make no promises, but I… never have I had the will to return more than now." His grey eyes flashed away from mine, embarrassed at such a confession that had seemed to numb my tongue in my mouth.
"There is… I…" I was fumbling badly for words, trying to express emotion I didn't even comprehend yet, and what came out was a humiliating jumble of choked words. That lump had shifted into a rock in my throat, making it hard to think let alone breathe.
"While I cannot keep a promise now, I should like to ask one of you," Boromir added, and I felt my heart leap higher than the lump at what he might ask. "Even if some memory should come to you, some foretelling, I ask that you not follow us. I… I cannot rest without knowing you are safely in Minas Tirith."
My heart slid back down into my chest, but it wasn't a bad feeling. Boromir's eyes were pleading with me, though he'd never put it that way, and this was a promise I could at least keep. "I promise I will not follow you, nor do I want to."
"You said once before you did not seek another battle and yet threw yourself into one anyway." He was trying to be more cheerful, and I caught the tail end of a smile. It was hard to be cheery though when he was off to war.
"I feel like there is more to say but I… I don't…" I blurted out awkwardly, cringing as the smile slipped away from him. I was a total mess now, and I hadn't walked out here expecting to cry, but there I was, on the verge of tears, feeling like I couldn't remember a single thing I wanted to tell him.
"Be safe, Maddie, and keep a light heart."
He seemed to hesitate, and I found myself blurting out, "I would hug you but for your armor."
I must have flushed the same red as my flame-embroidered cape, and I couldn't look him in the eye. When I did flick my glance up though, his lips were definitely tugging up in a smile. "Upon my return then."
I still couldn't look straight at him, but I nodded. That was as close to a promise as he could make. As he mounted up on his horse I had to say it just one more time. "Be careful Boromir, and come back."
"All you can ask of me is to try, and I will promise you that," he repeated, and then he kicked in his heels and was off.
"Are you crying?" asked Éowyn concernedly, leaning towards me from her seat on Windfola. I was on Thunor, hastily wiping at wet eyes as the army began to march. Faramir was a short ways away with Merry, explaining some of the formations.
"I'm just worried I won't see them again."
"You said all would come out unscathed," she murmured, shifting closer to put her arm around me.
"I did, but that was when… Boromir was not there. I am worried he will not."
Talking about it wasn't helping, and as I started to hiccup on my tears Éowyn was quick to shush me, trying to be soothing. "Don't cry. You don't want him to look back and see that. You have to believe what you told them."
"I do," I said with a hint of frustration. "I do think it will work out, but I'm just not sure about Boromir. He wasn't in… I mean…"
Éowyn did seem to get it, at least a little, because her arm tightened around me. Even with the awkward position on two saddles and slightly different horse heights, I appreciated her comfort. I hadn't come out here expecting to cry at all, but seeing the flags that preceded Aragorn and his immediate group leaving at the head of the column, it had been like a kick to the chest. My parting words with Boromir had left the floodgates open.
Gondor was going to fight. They were the last defense of Middle Earth from the evil that lay in Mordor. All of them were on a suicide mission not meant to be victorious but meant to draw the Eye away from Frodo. They were picking a fight they couldn't win.
"It's okay to be afraid," Éowyn said sympathetically, "but take that fear and make it a blade, for it best serves you rather than be its slave. My uncle told me those words, and it is the only thing I thought as I stood before the Nazgûl King."
I wiped the tears that had slid down my cheeks away and slowly straightened. She was right of course, I was letting my fear get the best of me, and I consciously slowed my breathing and took a few deep breaths.
"There, see? Now he'll see you sitting up on your horse, proud." She pulled back and Windfola shifted a bit away. "I did not know you were so close with Lord Boromir." Her eyes were definitely twinkling mischievously at me.
"But I knew you might be close to Lord Faramir," I replied, redirecting the conversation from dangerous waters.
"What?" She cried, looking a little offended, but it was offset by her smile. "Well you must tell me all manner of detail now."
I shook my head. "I can't. Let things run their course." As I well knew I was no good at deflecting this sort of stuff, and since Aragorn and his banners were almost lost from our sight, I turned Thunor around.
"You can't run, Maddie," Éowyn said, following me. "I cannot believe you would not tell me of this prophecy. Are we not dear friends?"
"Didn't I say everything would work out?" I retorted with a short smile crossing my face, and trotted Thunor over to Faramir and Merry, hoping to distract her. "Lord Faramir, I'll be returning to the city. Will you make sure Éowyn is all right? Someone should stay with her."
Éowyn froze a bit on her seat, but she definitely shot me a look.
"Of course," he said graciously. "Though I must insist you take a guard with you."
"And me!" Merry added from his spot behind Faramir.
"I don't need a guard," I protested, but Faramir was already directing a city guard my way. He was in uniform, and it took me a moment to realize his face was heavily lined with age under his helmet and there were wisps of thinning grey hair slipping out the sides. The old and the young had been left behind, I thought a bit sadly. That was the way of war.
The guard transferred Merry from Faramir's steed to mine, and then we cantered back into the city gates, already feeling the lack of soldiers keenly. The evacuees were gathered in clumps as we passed by, which immediately reminded me of my promise to myself.
"Merry, do you mind if we look for someone? I have some friends who lived here, and I want to see them."
"Sure, miss. I've hardly got much to do." His voice definitely pitched downward at that, and I thought finding Rylan and Merewald would certainly help the both of us.
My mental map of the first level, what little I could remember, was useless amidst the rubble. Falling buildings had annihilated streets, catapult stones had carved new ones entirely, and most people had simply chosen to recover what they could and start cleaning up the rest.
"I'm looking for a barber," I asked one sweaty man who was leaning on a shovel. He had found a shady spot hidden from a robust woman who seemed to be directing all the activity in this area. He glanced over his shoulder hurriedly when I stopped in front of him.
"Uh, milady, a barber?" His eyes were going back and forth between Merry and me.
"His name is Rylan. Do you know him?"
"Well, er, I can't say I do milady, beggin' your pardon. But Gwínind might." He nodded over to the bellowing matriarch on top of a heap of stone then quickly bowed as I thanked him.
The guard went first, picking his way closer, and as the working men noticed him slowly the hubbub of the area died down until we had Gwínind's attention before I'd even managed a hello.
"Milady," she said roughly, sounding surprisingly humbled for someone who had been yelling moments before. I was still taken aback when people reacted that way to me. "How can I be helpin' you?"
"I'm looking for a barber by the name of Rylan and his wife. Do you know them?"
She stepped gingerly down the pile, some stones scattering by her feet, and shot the nearest man watching a glare. "If you except a lick of bread from me you'll work to dig this shop out," she snapped at him. He jumped to work and others followed, though I was quite sure they all had one ear trained on the conversation.
"I do know Merewald, barber's wife, and their sweet girl, milady. Used to be about five streets over, by the bricklayer, though I suppose that's gone too." The barest look of sadness swept her features before it disappeared. "If you head that way, your ladyship, you might find them or their neighbors. Some people are leavin' this area for good."
"And going where?" asked Merry over my shoulder, and the woman peered around to get a good look, only averting her eyes from her staring when the guard coughed.
"Out of the city I suppose, or if they saved their money up, my little lord. Can't say for sure."
"Thank you, ma'am," I said politely carefully turning Thunor in the direction she'd pointed.
She curtsied as best as she could, given the uneven ground. "A witch healer is welcome among us, milady. They say we would not have any sons of Lord Denethor at all if not for you."
I froze in place at "witch healer" and I thought I heard a hiccup that could have been a stifled snort or laugh from Merry.
"It was King Aragorn who you should thank; he is a great healer," I replied, "I'm merely a messenger." That was about as accurate as I could get in so few words.
"We are beholden to you nonetheless," she said respectfully, head still bowed as I trotted away, discomforted with what she'd said.
"Witch healer," snickered Merry a little. "I think you should prefer Lady of Secret Fire."
"I think I actually do," I admitted, nonplussed.
The guard helped lead the way over the sometimes-indistinguishable blocks until we found a row of buildings where most were still in place though many of the roofs had collapsed and there were a few blackened ones down a ways that must have been lost in a fire.
There were two carthorses dragging a heavy chunk of solid stone out from someone's storefront when we rounded it, and I saw Adelaide sitting with a small pile of stones stacked together like some medieval idea of Lego's. She was in front of a slightly crushed house, with the back end collapsed. The front of the barbershop looked intact though, except for broken glass and two cracked steps.
"Adelaide!" I called as I tried to dismount before remembering Merry again. "Can you help Merry down please?" I asked the guard as the little girl looked up confused, and it seemed to take her a moment longer to remember me. I was just pleased she did at all. It had been a good while since I'd seen her or her family.
"Miss Maddie?" she called back, abandoning her rocks and stopping short when she realized she was almost of height with Merry. I hadn't really appreciated exactly how small hobbits were until they stood next to a human child. I wondered how tiny their children must be, if they didn't get much taller than four feet.
"Hello there," Merry said with a proffered hand, and Adelaide took it politely, giving him an excited once over.
"How old are you?" she asked immediately, not noticing her mother exit the shop to see what the commotion was.
"About thirty-six summers," he said quite jovially, and she shrieked with surprise and laughter, hitting a pitch only small children could.
"Lady Maddie," I heard Merewald breathe, turning in time to see her curtsey. Her dress was quite plain like my old ones, with a white apron now dusted and stained from the hard cleaning she was doing. She quietly beckoned to Adelaide, who regretfully left Merry to go to her mother. Rylan stepped out a moment later only to jolt to a stop too.
"Please don't call me lady, Merewald," I asked, dismounting carefully so I wouldn't land on Merry. "You know that's not my title. I only came to see you again now that I am back in Minas Tirith." I smiled at both of them, hoping they would relax a bit. The class divide was sharper than I seemed to remember, or maybe that was because I was on the other side of it.
"I… We are honored by the visit," she started again, but I tried to interrupt her as politely as possible.
"Really, I don't expect you to treat me any differently. I'm not a Lady of Secret Fire or a witch, before you ask. I was lost and confused when we first met, and you were very, very helpful to me. I wanted to return the favor, I suppose, and to make sure you were alright, and well…" I waved a bit embarrassedly at my new dress, aware that compared to Merewald I was more done up. "If there's anything I can do you only have to ask."
"We couldn't possibly—"
"That's very kind of you, Lady Maddie," Rylan interjected over his wife, who was trying to pat dust out of Adelaide's hair without looking away from Merry and I. She seemed to have forgotten her own hair was dusted with white stone. "Our home is not terribly damaged, but any repair will have to wait until the stonemasons and craftsmen are no longer busy digging out their buried homes."
"Of course," I replied, feeling exceptionally thankful that Rylan wasn't going the overly polite route Merewald was. I guess I could understand where she was coming from, since she did work in a lord's household. "Will you still have work Merewald? I can't say the Kinseys like me, but perhaps there are others…"
"I am secure, milady, thank you for asking."
"Are you really a lady now, Miss Maddie?" Adelaide inquired, and before Merewald could correct the girl on my title I laughed, waving her off.
"Not a real one no. I was just unlucky on the road and got pulled into the war."
"She saved the Steward," Merry said knowingly, winking at the little girl. "Good deeds are rewarded."
"So that's why you have a nice dress and a horse?" she asked, drawing my attention away from the dirty look I was sending the hobbit. She was scooting closer to Merry, childish curiosity getting the best of her. Unfortunately her mother still had a grip on her shoulder.
"Yes, but you can still call me Maddie, I don't mind." I glanced at her parents, gauging their reactions. Merewald looked torn between propriety and my request, but Rylan seemed a bit more accommodating.
"I thought you might be luckier than most, surviving the Great West road not once, but twice," he said suddenly. "Please take our thanks for saving our new Steward and Captain Faramir."
"Let me gets some scones or sweets at least," Merewald added, and before I could protest she was gone. Without her mother over her shoulder, Adelaide came right up to Merry, who seemed quite amused by the child's fascination.
"You have pointed ears," she announced, spying the leaf shape even through his curls.
"You have round ones," he told her smartly. "We hobbits find that quite strange."
She giggled, sufficiently distracted, and I approached Rylan. "I don't mean to take advantage of my… well, people's kindness to me, but if you should need anything, don't hesitate to ask. You and Merewald were the first kind people to me in Gondor, and if I can repay that I would."
"You have done more for Gondor than likely even rumor says," he answered, shaking his head. "Other than time we will rebuild. We are luckier than most in that sense." Considering the state of the buildings I'd seen closer to the gate he had a point. Many around here were still standing. The same could not be said for those closer to the gate and the walls. "Perhaps some of your magic helped with that."
I opened my mouth to contradict him, but seeing his earnest expression and Merewald's rushed tray of scones and butter, I found myself closing my mouth without knowing why. "Thank you, Merewald." I wasn't that hungry yet, but Merry was more than happy to eat my share too, as he came closer with Adelaide. "This is Merry. I'm sorry for not introducing you earlier," I added suddenly, recalling my manners. "He is a hobbit from the Shire, far to the north."
"I suppose you're not really from Rohan, are you?" Rylan asked with a bit of smile, though I still sensed distance between the couple and myself. Maybe that was time or maybe the rumors really had built me a reputation that was now a wall.
"Uh, no," I said, pressing my lips together. "I'm not. I'm sorry for lying." He just shook his head, dismissing anything about that.
The awkwardness did lessen some as I asked a little about the evacuation and where they went. Most of the civilians who weren't nobles ended up in a series of cities and caves in the mountains built for this purpose, though many weren't big enough to accommodate all the people. The nobles went south apparently, though when I told them there had been fighting there too, we wondered if the people in the mountains hadn't fared better.
"There were more children there," Adelaide piped, "but I like home better. Even if a rock did fall on it."
That seemed to remind everyone that the barbershop needed a lot of work before it would be even remotely functional again, but luckily Rylan was in an industry that would always be in demand. Our guard looked like he was ready to fall asleep if he hadn't already, seated stiffly on the steps of the neighboring building.
"Well I suppose we ought to go. Let me know when you open again, Rylan. My hair is already getting very long again." Rylan smiled, and I was pleased too that Merewald had softened some.
"If you come in the spring I'll put flowers in your hair," Adelaide offered, earning my biggest smile yet.
"Really? That would be great, Adelaide. Maybe I can start a new trend." That put a big grin on her face, and I felt a flush of pride. There might be some new distance between us, but at least we were still friendly.
"Thank you for coming to see us, Lady Maddie," Merewald said politely, standing by her husband and daughter as I mounted up and helped Merry get situated. Then with a last goodbye we trotted back down the street, looking for a major cleared road to take us up.
"They're a nice family. How did you meet them?" Merry asked once we'd found a quieter road sloping towards the checkpoint.
"My first time in Minas Tirith. I didn't know what to do or how to find work, let alone where to stay. They helped me."
"When was that?" he asked as we passed the lone guard there and into the second level.
"A year ago now, maybe a little more." It didn't feel like that long ago, but I'd spent somewhere close to a year as a maidservant, and then I wasn't even sure how long I'd been gone when I left Minas Tirith. Time was so much harder to measure when people didn't really use minutes and hours or days of the week. It was seasons and daylight and nighttime, and I measured things in the lengths between events. Curious, how I hadn't even considered how easily I'd forgotten clocks.
"Well you've done what you can for them. If they're stubborn like hobbits, they won't take help even from the family unless the grandmother forces it on them. You know there was a snowstorm one winter about ten years before my majority, and the roof of the grain shed collapsed under the weight…" Merry chattered on about hobbits arguing about accepting money from neighbors and loans as we climbed the length of Minas Tirith, touching levels I hadn't been able to see without stamped and marked approval a year ago. Now guards didn't even bother to check me, just nodded me in. (Though that might have been Merry, who stuck out a lot more than I did.)
We reached the sixth level, and the emptiness of the wards was palpable. Merry dismounted with a bit of help and went inside, and I walked Thunor back to the stable.
"They say it will take them five days to reach the Black Gates at least," I told Thunor as I pulled his bridle off and hung it outside his stall. "Five days. What am I going to do?"
He snorted a hot breath of air on my throat that made me jump, and I tugged on his mane as I moved around him to unbuckle the saddle. "I thought I would help with the clean up, but you saw how Merewald and Rylan reacted. I don't think I can quite mingle like I used to." It was with mixed feelings I said that. I'd never wanted to be famous before, and I didn't much like it now, but at the same time Éowyn, Merry, Pippin, and all the rest were in something of the same boat. At least it did give me some freedom of movement, which was especially important to me now that I had a horse.
"Well, maybe I can go riding outside the city. Although… they might still be cleaning up there too." I spent the rest of the time brushing Thunor down speculating on what I was going to do with the army gone. As I would soon learn though, there wasn't any need for speculation.