Heylo, everyone. Finally another chapter. I apologize yet again for how long this story is becoming, and only pray you all aren't feeling it's as tedious as I believe! But we are nearing the end! :) In this chapter I've got a couple poems/songs from the actual novels, so that credit definitely goes to Tolkien - of course - and I wouldn't blame any of you for skimming/skipping over them; although the third one is in fact my own making. I'm not very good :/ I hope you enjoy nonetheless!
P.S. I don't ever do this, but just a side-note for anyone reading this: if you haven't seen the film Inception, I recommend it more than almost anything. It's a masterpiece! Truly.
Ta-ta-for-now
Alandria pressed closer to the Lord's firm chest, her hands clasped firmly in his own, and smiled nervously up at him once he let her breathe. Her emerald eyes searched through his dark hazel ones, finding only comfort and assurance and love. Something pricked at the back of her mind though, and the doubt it created reflected onto her features.
"Alandria? What's wrong?" Éomer asked gently, raising a hand to gently cradle her face.
"You..you ask me to be your queen, Éomer, but the law..." Still his dark brows furrowed in confusion, and she sighed at his density. "The law, Éomer: those of the noble lineage must marry those others of noble lineage." She shifted, gazing up at his understanding expression with fear, her next words only a whisper, "I am not of any such noble lineage."
Éomer was silent for a moment, caught off guard by her sudden sense, and his silence further worried Alandria. His warm gaze grew nervous as his eyes flew from hers, flitting around from place to place as he rashly thought. "It does not matter, we will still marry. You will be my queen, Alandria, I prom-"
"But how can that be? It is against the laws, Éomer!"
He thought again, still holding firm to her. "I am to be King, I will override the law!" Alandria looked doubtful, but he seemed earnest now. "The Fourth Age is to be beginning. A new Age, a new King, and Rohan intact after coming so close to destruction? The people will expect new laws, and many changes. Who's to say we cannot change this law?"
"Éomer-"
"It will work, Alandria." He insisted, dark eyes burned with determination. "I will have you to be my wife, that I promise. It will happen as soon as it can. Within less of a week of our return!"
He seemed thrilled with the idea, and Alandria could not deny the excitement she too felt. Doubt still lingered, and the nervous fear of what being a wife and a queen would bring, and the anxiety of telling the others...- the others.
"Éomer," she started pulling away from him. "we ought to return, don't you think? I know Faramir was concerned-" Her heart warmed at the thought of the kind Steward, "-and the longer we are gone, the worse it appears. I think we should go back."
The Horse-lord seemed reluctant to let her go, but hesitantly agreed, nodding. "Yes. It's getting late as well...the celebration is likely near over."
She untangled herself from his arms, but then took his rough hand in hers with a small smile. "Come then, let's go back to them and enjoy the rest of the night together."
"Do you wish to tell them...?"
Éomer didn't have to explain for Alandria to understand. She shrugged as they slowly began to walk back towards the celebrating company. "Most of them likely already suspect, and they're all intelligent enough to figure it out for themselves... I don't know. Do you think we should?"
"It's for you to determine, love. They likely will figure it out, and if they ask, then we can explain in a reply."
"Sounds decent enough to me."
Éomer merely smiled down at her in reply, and squeezed her hand tighter.
Soon they came upon their company again, scattered about the courtyard, which was considerably more empty than it had been. The flower petals that had been danced upon were scarce as servants shuffled about, cleaning them up, and Alandria could see the bustle of cleaning-activity in the light of the Hall.
"Has the celebration broken up already?" She asked.
Merry, casually standing a couple yards away and talking with his three fellow hobbits, looked up in reply. "Aye milady. You've been gone for a while y'know."
"Where'd you go anyway?" Pippin spoke up.
Alandria shrugged. "Just needed some air."
"Well there's plenty of that now, I assure you." Merry replied with a smile.
"Alandria." She turned at the soft voice that spoke her name. Aragorn had appeared, in less formal clothing, and with Arwen at his side. He smiled faintly, kindly. "Where have you been? I lost sight of you over an hour ago."
"I just went for a walk."
The King's turquoise eyes steadily drifted to the tall, golden-haired man at her side, and then just as casually back to her. "I see. Well things have just begun to settle, and I was going to see if you all," he nodded around at the entire gathered group of the hobbits, Gimli, Legolas, Faramir, Éowyn, Éomer, and Alandria, "would mind joining the Queen and I for a quiet talk. Or, more likely, just to sit and enjoy each other's company." He smiled warmly, and all those present nodded in consent.
Frodo glanced around though, faint worry on his young features. "Where is Gandalf?" He asked softly.
"Right here, my lad." The ancient Wizard rumbled in reply, striding slowly out of the Hall and into their company. "I shall join you all."
"We would not have it otherwise, my friend." Aragorn allowed with a smile. "I hope you all will not mind if we commence our gathering in the Gardens of Healing? I hear it is quite lovely there, whether in day or night."
"You hear correct, my lord." Alandria replied and he smiled again.
"Excellent." He strode off then, Arwen on his arm, and the company following loyally behind. They very soon arrived back in the Gardens, and, after having the several torches lit, Aragorn gestured gracefully to the open grass and stone benches scattered about before them. The company settled themselves about: Legolas resting on the grass with his legs crossed neatly before him, Gimli on a bench resting his back against the stone wall, Faramir and Éowyn close side by side on a separate bench, Gandalf standing beside the walls and looking out across the land in thought, Merry and Pippin sprawled out casually on the grass, Frodo on the small bench near Gandalf, Sam on the ground at his feet, Aragorn and Arwen settled neatly on the edge of the fountain, Éomer standing tall against a stone archway, and Alandria lying on her side near Pippin and Merry.
As soon as they were all comfortable, the pairs spoke to their own companions, or chose to stay silent. Frodo, Sam, and Gandalf for instance remained quiet and still. Aragorn and Arwen to each other in quiet tones of elvish words. Legolas made idle comments to Gimli, who returned the words with rough grumbles. Eowyn sat close to Faramir, her hand in his, yet they were quiet. Éomer too was silent. Alandria was forced into chatting heartily with Merry and Pippin, who both inspired conversation simply with their warm dispositions. They never ceased to find some story of their days in the Shire that they hadn't yet told her, and amusement passed time quickly. Alandria's laugh at one of Pippin's stories was just fading when a throat being cleared called all of them to attention. Everyone looked immediately to Aragorn, but his features expressed that it was not him who had called their attention. Alandria then looked to Faramir, and saw Éowyn looking expectantly up at him. Everyone else did the same. The young man flushed faintly from the attention, and then smiled faintly, nervously.
"I-..we...have an announcement to make, if you do not mind." No one said a word, and he looked uncomfortably at Éowyn. She turned to face the audience before them, her dark blue eyes firm and features calm.
"We are betrothed." She announced.
Astounded silence answered her blunt words. Alandria smiled faintly as she looked between the Steward and the Lady, as she was unsurprised. They had spent so much time in each other's company, had grown so close, that this news was not unexpected to her ears. The others though were quite taken aback - especially her brother.
"Betrothed?" Éomer choked out after another moment of silence. His dark eyes were wide, his brows drawn together in bewilderment, and his mouth gaped slightly open. Alandria had to stifle a giggle.
"Surely you have not been completely blind to their company for the past days?" She teased him.
The tall man struggled for words for a moment, before finally only stuttering out, "Well, n-no but..but betrothed? So..so soon?"
"You forget, brother," Éowyn spoke up again. "that Lord Faramir and I have had the honor of each other's company for a fortnight longer than we've had any of yours'. In that fortnight I, at least, found within me a love for him." She looked modestly to the man at her side, a faint smile on her features. "I am led to believe he feels the same."
"Éowyn, I have loved you since first I saw you, standing alone in these very Gardens." He replied tenderly, and Alandria ducked her head in embarrasement towards their intimate words. They, however, seemed unphased. Faramir turned to face their audience again, his features more confident now. "So, indeed, I asked her hand for marriage. There is no father nor uncle left to give consent so..." Here the young man's dark eyes turned cautiously to Éomer's - more controlled - features. "we look to her brother for an answer."
Everyone's attention immediately turned to Éomer, and Alandria quickly hid a slight smile towards the change of events that had occured in the evening so far. She watched Éomer now, just as intently as everyone else, and he shifted uneasily under the pressure of their stares. Wide, dark eyes flicked carefully around to each person's face, before slowing to study the face of the rust-haired Steward. Faramir met the man's gaze quite evenly, patiently waiting for a reply. The hazel eyes moved to the pale features of Éowyn then and she held her head higher, prouder. Éomer looked at her half as long as he stared at Faramir, and once done, returned quickly to Faramir. A heartbeat later, and a slow, soft smile grew on the Horse-lord's features.
"What reason could I ever find to refuse this? Lord Faramir, consider yourself a blessed man to have the hand of such a valiant, honorable woman."
A radiant smile unlike any Alandria had yet seen burst on the face of the White Lady, and she laughed heartily. Faramir smiled warmly as well, though admittedly not as brightly as his new bride. Éowyn threw herself at Faramir, wrapping her arms about his neck and kissing him thoroughly. The timid man returned her kiss considerably more gently, and they broke apart as Éowyn smiled again. She turned to her brother then, and leapt up to run the few steps into his embrace, hugging him tightly. Éomer chuckled warmly, and then set her down with a kind smile. She turned back to Faramir, whom had risen to join her and Éomer, and kissed him again. Éomer took this moment to look over and meet Alandria's gaze. She knew what he was thinking as his dark hazel eyes locked on to her, and she shook her head the slightest bit. Now was not the time. Not yet. He merely smiled faintly for a reply, and turned his attention back to Éowyn, who was alarmingly ecstatic with joy.
Alandria turned at movement to her right, and watched as Aragorn rose from his seat beside Arwen. The simple movement of him rising was enough to quiet Éowyn, Faramir and Éomer, as the King claimed his rightful attention. His smiled warmly at the newly betrothed couple, and bowed modestly to them both. They each returned it obediently, but Aragorn waved away their gestures. "I will not deny that I am surprised, nor will I deny how happy I am for the both of you. Éowyn," he turned his pale gaze towards the lady, "You could not have found a more intelligent, dependable and kind man then the one you have chosen. Faramir," now he turned to his Steward, "A Prince needs a Princess beside him, and I assure you that you could not have found one stronger or more equipped for the duty. Ithilien will suit her well." He smiled again, and opened his mouth to speak once more, but Alandria had to interrupt.
"Prince?" She echoed in confusion, and changed from her position of still lying on the ground to sit expectantly. "Princess?" She looked from Aragorn to Faramir and Éowyn in bewilderment. "I don't understand."
Aragorn's dark brows pulled together slightly in confusion. "You don't? At the celebration..I declared Far-"
"That must have been - I aplogize, my lord, for the interruption - when you ran to retrieve more ale for the tables." Faramir quickly cut in, staring meaningfully at Alandria.
Still confused, she slowly nodded. "Yes..I suppose it must have.."
"Oh." Aragorn hesitantly accepted the Steward's improvised lie. "Well then, I shall explain. At the celebration I declared Faramir Prince of Ithilien, for he has earned himself a rank far higher than Steward. And since the rank of King is now unavailable," he smiled gently at the others' chuckles, "I offered him reign over Ithilien."
Alandria looked back towards Faramir in surprise. "That's fantastic. Faramir loves Ithilien. Borom-" She stopped short, and after a careful breath, continued on in a quieter voice. "Boromir told me plenty of times how much you love it." She looked to the gentle man now with a faint smile. "I heard many stories about your always disappearing off to its woods when work was called for, or your father-...when things got difficult."
Faramir didn't seem the least bit bothered by any of the information, and merely smiled just as warmly as he had been - even warmer, perhaps. "My brother was not wrong. I do love it there. And so I thank you, yet again, Lord Aragorn, for bestowing this honor upon me. And I thank you, Lord Éomer, for granting me the greatest happiness I could dream of having." He looked down at the golden-haired lady at his side, taking her hand in his, and smiling tenderly.
Aragorn gently interrupted as he stepped further forward, offering with a smile his further congratulations. Merry and Pippin merely cheered their congrats from their comfortable places on the ground, and Alandria faintly heard Frodo and Sam politely offer the same. Éomer then joined those standing to offer his hand to Faramir with a stern smile, and then to speak kindly to his sister. Alandria climbed to her feet then as Éomer and Aragorn spoke with Éowyn, and made her way over to the autumn-haired Steward that was standing off to the side.
"Congratulations." She said softly, smiling faintly up at the man.
He reflected her expression, and nodded politely. "Thank you."
"I'm happy for you." She stated. "Honestly. Éowyn was so utterly in love with Aragorn - if you will pardon me saying - that I was sure she would never be able to love another. I'm glad she chose you; you needed someone like her to love you. Again, if you don't mind my saying so."
Faramir gazed down at Alandria thoughtfully, the wisp of a smile on his handsome features. "I certainly do not mind you saying so, Alandria." He glanced back up and over at Éowyn, Éomer, and Aragorn for a moment, and then satisfied that they were not paying attention, gently led Alandria a couple steps away by her elbow. When he faced her again, his kind features were serious, and thoughtful. "From the day I first met you, you seemed to know more about me than I could have expected. It was unnerving, really, how much you had figured of me from my brother. Over the many days we spent together in the Houses of Healing I got to know you fairly well, Alandria, and so now I would like to ask you - have you finally given up my brother for your Rohan Lord?"
Alandria hesitated at the unexpected onslaught of words from the young man, and tried to search into his words to discover some possible alterior meaning. She found none however, none other than the concern for her that shone through his warm blue eyes. She stared back up at him and answered as honestly as she could: "As much as I can, yes." His brows pulled slightly together in an unspoken question, which she readily answered. "Faramir, your brother was the first man I ever truly loved. Because of that, and the fact that I was unfortunate enough to see him die while I still loved him, I will never stop loving him. But I do love Éomer - more than I thought I could ever love again. And so although I have not given up Boromir, and never will, I have given him up as much as I can."
Faramir nodded in his calm understanding, but the faintest confusion still traced his features as he glanced up once more at the other group, who were still immersed in conversation. "So," he softly began, as his gaze fell back down to her, "does this mean you and the Lord Éomer are to wed as well?"
"Yes." Alandria answered immediately, then caught herself and paused, before slowly adding, "Eventually."
"Eventually?"
"When we get back to Rohan would likely be a more appropriate time." She replied with a soft smile.
Faramir returned it warmly. "Of course. How come you have not announced it then? After Éowyn and I?"
Alandria shrugged slightly. "Now does not feel like the time. And I don't want to steal the joy from you too."
"Alandria," Faramir smiled slightly wider now, "trust me, we would not mind."
Alandria, however, still shook her head. "No, not right now. You know, and that is enough." She paused, and then gazed earnestly into the kind man's deep eyes. "Will you come to the wedding? It'll be way out in Edoras, but will you come?"
"Absolutely." Faramir nodded firmly. "I would love to."
Alandria smiled again. "Excellent." She glanced away then, and sighed heavily. "I can't wait until we can get back home..."
She was interrupted just then, as Aragorn, Éowyn, and Éomer's conversation seemed to have closed.
"It's late; I think I shall retire." Éowyn announced. "Thank you all for the company." She smiled gently, and the others each said their goodnights. She glanced at Alandria for a moment, before turning and quietly walking away.
"I think I shall go too." Faramir said then, bowing low to his King and Queen. "It has been a very busy day.
"Indeed it has. Goodnight, Faramir." Aragorn replied.
"Goodnight Faramir," Alandria called. "Dream peacefully."
The noble-faced young man smiled at her, and bowed. "Aye, thank you milady. You as well." He turned to Éomer then, and politely bowed again. "And to you, lord."
Éomer nodded formally back in reply.
Faramir too then faded away into the darkness, and silence fell. Alandria gazed at Éomer for a momet, before sighing softly and returning to her place on the grass with Merry and Pippin. The silence began to feel heavy, causing unease to drop upon the remaining company. Frodo and Sam could be heard murmuring faintly from their place by Gandalf, but otherwise there was no sound.
"Merry, Pippin," Alandria gently called their attention. "The quiet seems ill-fitting for the present time. Have you perhaps got any music to entertain us with?"
Both the hobbits grinned widely, thrilled at Alandria's suggestion - they were bored in the still peacefullness in the Garden. "Absolutely!" Pippin chirped, as they both scarmbled to their feet.
"There's some instruments back in the Hall - we'll be right back!" Merry briefly exclaimed, and then they dashed off.
Alandria smiled at their retreating figures, and then called over to Sam. "Master Samwise! Would you mind providing us with some poetry to Merry and Pippin's music? I miss the sweetness of hobbit-rhymes and tunes. Now I think it shall be quite a comfort."
Sam looked over at her with his wide, gold-green eyes, then glanced up at Frodo for a moment before nodding. "Aye milady, I can do that." He stood up then, and shuffled nervously closer to where Alandria lay, and Aragorn and Arwen sat.
Alandria smiled reassuringly up at the little hobbit, and was deaf to the soft padding of feet until a voice spoke from very near. "Alandria?" She turned awkwardly to look up at the man that had spoken, and then abruptly jumped back up to her feet. She then stood appropriately face-to-face with her betrothed, smiling faintly. He returned the smile, and glanced over at Sam and Frodo for a second, before turning his dark eyes back to her. "I feel I should let you all alone."
"You can stay, it-"
But Éomer shook his head with a kind smile. "This time is for the Fellowship, I think."
"No, we're-"
"You haven't seen each other, together, in weeks." He interrupted again. "And these past days have been very busy. Now you finally have sometime to be together, in peace. I think I shall follow Faramir and Éowyn's examples, and retire as well." He smiled warmly down at Alandria again, as his rough hand reached for hers. His gaze lifted though just before he touched her, and he quickly took in the other company around them, and dropped his hand. His smile turned apologetic, and Alandria, although somewhat offended, weakly returned it in understanding.
"Goodnight then, Éomer."
"Goodnight Alandria. See you in the morning." His eyes flooded with the intimate words he could not now express, and he merely bowed formally. He turned then to the other company, bowing more stiffly and not as deeply. "It is late, and I too am weary from the activities of the day. Goodnight to you all." A chorus of "goodnight"s echoed the Horse-lord, and with another brief smile at Alandria, he quietly left, just as Merry and Pippin came bursting back into the Garden.
Pippin had found a small, mandolin-like instrument, while Merry took claim of a little wooden flute. After proudly showing their finds to Alandria, the to took a couple moments to play random notes and short tunes out on the instruments, to get a feel for the devices.
"Alandria, what have you gotten us into?" Legolas chuckled, smiling warmly at Alandria.
She laughed lightly back. "Patience, Legolas. I think we're all in need of some hobbit-tunes, don't you?"
"I, for one, could not possibly argue that point, my dear." Gandalf joined in, stepping closer, Frodo and Sam trailing behind.
Soon Alandria, Legolas, Gimli, Frodo, and Sam all sat around in a large circle, which blended at one point into the fountain, on the edge of which Aragorn and Arwen still peacefully sat. Gandalf stood leaning on a pillar nearby, his body too ancient and weary for sitting on the ground. Merry and Pippin stood proudly and excitedly in the center of the ring, their instruments in hand and smiles on their cheerful faces. With a shared glance, the two began to play in time. The first song was - as expected - rather bright and cheerful, Merry using the higher and sharper notes of the flute, and Pippin strummed quickly and merrily along. Sam took a moment to find the feel of his friends' improvisation, and then nervously opened his mouth for poetry:
"Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!
Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilgiht, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!"
Sam finalized the end of the poem with a flush and bow of his head, to the smiles and gently applause of the company around him. Merry and Pippin kept playing however, merely adjusting their tune, still keeping it light and chipper. Sam took another breath, and began again.
"Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,
And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;
For many a year he had gnawed it near,
For meat was hard to come by.
Done by! Gum by!
In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was hard to come by.
Up came Tom with his big boots on.
Said he to Troll: 'Pray, what is yon?
For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim.
As should be a-lyin' in the graveyard.
Caveyard! Paveyard!
This many a year has Tim been gone,
And I thought he were lyin' in the graveyard.'
'My lad,' said Troll, 'this bone I stole.
But what be bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead,
Afore I found his shinbone.
Tinbone! Skinbone!
He can spare a share for a poor old troll,
For he don't need his shinbone.'
Said Tom: 'I don't see why the likes o' thee
Without axin' leave should go makin' free
With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin;
So hand the old bone over!
Rover! Trover!
Though dead he be, it belongs to he;
So hand the old bone over!'
'For a couple o' pins,' says Troll, and grins,
'I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
A bit o' fresh meat will go down sweet!
I'll try my teeth on thee now.
Hee now! See now!
I'm tired o' gnawing old bones and skins;
I've a mind to dine on thee now.'
But just as he thought his dinner was caught,
He found his hands had hold of naught.
Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind
And gave him the boot to larn him.
Warn him! Darn him!
A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought,
Would be the way to larn him.
But harder than stone is the flesh and bone
Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.
As well set your boot to the mountain's root,
For the seat of a troll don't feel it.
Peel it! Heal it!
Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,
And he knew his toes could feel it.
Tom's leg is game, since home he came,
And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
But Troll don't care, and he's still there
With the bone he boned from its owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll's old seat is still the same,
And the bone he boned from its owner!"
As the second poem came to an end, Frodo rose with a yawn. "I think I shall now retire. As fun as this has all been," he smiled kindly at his fellow hobbits, "it has been a long day, and I am weary. Goodnight to you all." Everyone bade Frodo goodnight as well, then as he began to slowly walk away, Sam glanced hesitatingly towards his master.
"Um, if you don't mind Lady Alandria, I think I ought to be off too. I'tis late, after all."
Alandria smiled faintly and chuckled. "Of course, Sam. I wouldn't want to hold you here against your will."
The stout hobbit flushed again, bowed, and muttered thanks. "Er, g'night Strid- Aragorn, lord. And t'you, Lady." He bowed to Aragorn and Arwen as well, then muttered another flustered goodnight to the rest of the party and scurried after his master.
Alandria sighed and down on her back then, looking up towards the dark sky. "Well that was quick."
"We don't 'ave to stop playin', do we Alandria?" She heard Pippin ask, and smiled.
"No, Pip. You can keep playing."
"Excellent, thank you. And can we sing?"
She chuckled again. "Of course, Pippin." She heard a little chirp of cheer, and then the little madolin-like instrument the hobbit had found began to play again. The chords this time, however, were not as light and cheerful as before. They came slower, steadier, and when Merry joined in a moment later, the melody of his flute was lower and more melancholy than before:
"We've traveled on with weary feet
'Till all paths seem the same
Our end, at last, we've come to meet
And from whence we are, we can 'ardly name
We remember long grass in golden fields
Mugs of brown ale and goodly meals
Clear, cold streams and a trickling brook
Or beside the fire with a heavy book
Mountains high, against skies so clear
Forests deep, rivers wide, and creatures vile.
Perils once far never seemed so near
We've been gone from home much more than our while.
Home, home, where did home go?
Beyond the spring flowers and winter's snow.
We've come to lands and peoples not our own
Now maybe's the time, now is the time, to go home.."
It was moment before Alandria realized her eyes had filled with water, threatening to spill down her cheeks. She took a shaky breath, blinking away the visions before her: visions of feet trekking across leagues and leagues of land; of battles, with Men and Orcs alike both victorious and slain; then of open, rolling grasslands to ride freely across; a city seated snugly atop a grand hill, a great Hall made of wood and warm gold perched at it's peak; visions of a home she had been away from for far too long, a home that, when she finally returned to it, she would have a greater place in than she could have ever believed. Alandria's painful longing for Rohan and Edoras, and the walls of Meduseld, was far deeper than she'd realized. For too many weeks had she traveled leagues away from her country, in strange lands with stranger people, experiencing both joys and horrors beyond her dreams. The Quest of the Fellowship, and for the Ring, had been great, yes, but now it was over - and she wanted to go home.
"Our packs are empty and our company less
Our shoulders are tired and our wills beaten
We wait to return, to our lands in the West-"
"Pippin," she finally interrupted, swallowing more clouding tears, "something different, please. Sing something different. Something about hobbits, and the Shire, and green grass, and good food... Something happier."
There was a pause, and then a hesitant, "Aye, milady," as Pippin obeyed her curious suggestion. The next song was much more bright and cheerful, and no more tears of longing struck Alandria, but the thoughts were still there. She still wanted to be home, and with the tall Lord of Rohan beside her.
