A/N: So I know I said one chapter in the morning, one in the evening, but I sort of failed on that one. Today has been a busy, busy day for me, so I didn't get a chance to sit down and publish. But I'm here now doing it. And, to make up for my lie, you will be getting both chapters back to back. I will be answering five reviews here, and five in the beginning of the next (and last) chapter. So if you don't see your review response here, it will be there.
Also, the poem/song Elrohir sings in this chapter doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Tiwn (Original poems © 2003, E. Brundige.). There; now no one can sue me. But on with the chapter.
The trip to Cormallen, where the encampment had been erected, was uneventful, but extremely frustrating. I wanted nothing more than to travel light and swift over the miles that separated me and my beloved Éomer, but the company traveled no faster than a trot the entire way. I was restless, often cantering away and back to the column, Círdor riding beside me as an escort. He was aware of my slightly foul mood, as was everyone, but no one said anything about it. I often caught Éowyn giving me alternately chastising and pitying looks every time I returned from one of these short ventures.
We stopped every night along the way to make camp, which I knew to be necessary, but would have rather done without. Every stop, every rest, kept me from Éomer's arms, and I was ready to tear my hair out when we stopped to make camp for the final time on our journey. We would be arriving in the camp by mid-day the next day, but it was still too far for my liking, Messengers had been sent ahead to tell of our arrival, and I almost volunteered for the task, but sharp looks from Elrohir and Éowyn had stopped me from taking off as if a Black Rider was behind me.
As night fell over the camp, I was sitting at one of the fire, staring moodily into the flames. I was running my fingers through my hair, thinking of Éomer. I had been coaching myself to make sure that I retained every modicum of dignity and grace that I could once I was in his presence. I knew I would shed a few tears of joy, but I was already steeling myself against the onslaught that I knew that would come.
But my silence and solitude was interrupted as I felt someone sit on the log beside me. I glanced to find Elrohir looking into the flames as well. I gave him a little nod to acknowledge his presence, but otherwise said nothing. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. We sat in silence for a while, but then I heard him whispering softly in Sindarin to himself. It almost sounded like a song or a poem, for the words were beautiful.
"I laiss i-ferin thuiar I 'wilith lim echui aur. I mrethil peliar duiw laiss Af filig linnol der' ennas. Vi Ithilien, dôr lenthir lind. Gorain nesta velethril nín, [The leaves of the beeches breathe, The sparkling air of day's awakening. The birches spread the buds of leaves, For the small singing birds to linger there. In Ithilien, land of the tuneful waterfalls Wandering-together heals my beloved.]" Elrohir sang with a little voice, as if he were afraid that someone would overhear him.
But his voice was pure and beautiful, and it distracted me from my own restlessness for a moment.
"That is beautiful," I said, my voice a reverent whisper.
Elrohir seemed startled, though not outwardly, but in his eyes like with the other elf I knew, and turned to look at me.
"Is it one of your own compositions?" I asked when he did not say anything in return.
"Yes. I have had much to think about while in this place," Elrohir said, looking around to the trees.
I smiled. He was different than Legolas in his appearance, but his appreciation for beauty and nature was the same.
"It is about-"
"Ithilien and her trees, I know," I said, finishing for him.
I did not want him to ruin the beauty and magic of the song with an explanation or translation. Elrohir looked at me confused. I gave him a smile, one that I had learned to master from my dear friend.
"I am versed in Sindarin, though not nearly as well as I'd like to be," I said with a little chuckle.
Elrohir's comprehension spread across his face and he merely gave me a nod.
"It helps when you are surrounded by the language," Elrohir said softly, speaking in his native tongue.
I nodded. "As I have learned with Rohirric," I countered in the same vein.
I chuckled as I remembered my time in Edoras. While many people of the capital spoke Westron, there were some who only spoke in Rohirric. I knew enough upon my first arrival to get by, but soon my skills improved with more and more exposure.
"Legolas plans to start a i ngebil here," Elrohir went on, still looking around.
My brow furrowed. "A what?" I asked, unfamiliar with the word.
Elrohir laughed a little. "A colony, a town. There are those of our kind who feel that our work here is not yet complete, that there are wounds that need healing by our hands. He wishes, and Estel will grant it, to start a place where the Elves who do not wish to depart for Valinor may stay," Elrohir said.
I repeated the new word softly to myself, but thought over what Elrohir had said. Legolas's wife was in Valinor; he had told me this many times. But I would have thought that he would have liked to join her as soon as he was able to. Perhaps I would ask him of the matter when I saw him.
The thought brought me back to my old frustration of not being with Éomer, and I sighed. I brought my knees up to my chest and leaned forward to hug them, staring into the flames again with a dark expression.
"He spoke of you often, you know. They both did," Elrohir said.
I looked to him, my eyes showing my curiosity for his meaning.
"Éomer often spoke of you when we told stories of our lives before this war. He spoke of the days and nights you would spend together when you lived with his family at Meduseld. He wore this peculiar smile when he did, and I often saw the same expression on his face when he was lost in thought on our journey," Elrohir explained.
I smiled brightly, this news bringing warmth to my heart.
"Legolas spoke to me of your appearance. He said that I would recognize you almost as soon as I saw you, for you resemble another that we were both familiar with," Elrohir said, this time with a heavy sigh.
My smile faded a little, the touch of sadness to his voice not lost on me.
"He may or may not have told you this, my lady, but you share striking similarities to Alassiel, Legolas's wife," he said when I did not speak.
The news was a surprise to me, but I had it well. I looked back to the flames to think. This was something else I would have to discuss with Legolas when I saw him. But my overwhelming curiosity about the woman that meant so much to my dear friend would not stay contained.
"How did you know her?" I asked softly.
"Alassiel was born and raised in Imladris, my home. When the days began to be too dark for her liking, she traveled to Lothlorien with myself and my brother, and there she met Legolas. His father was never quite as accepting of others as his youngest son, but Legolas often traveled to the Golden Wood to be with a few of his friends, some of the wardens. They met there and were nearly inseparable since," Elrohir said, recalling the memories of a lost age with a fond smile.
I nodded and was silent. It seemed a little wrong to ask these things, but I knew that the subject of his wife was a painful one, and I did not wish to bring Legolas any further sorrow. These days were not for dwelling on past hurts, but for living in the light of a new and more hopeful age. Elrohir allowed my silence as only an Elf could. Any mortal would have had the compulsion to fill the air with mindless talk, but Elves had a patience from a millennia of experience.
But, after a long moment, Elrohir stood. "It is late, my lady. And we will be departing with the sun so to arrive in a timely manner," he said, looking down on me with a little smile.
I nodded and stood. I brushed some dirt from the folds of my dress and allowed him to escort me to the tent Éowyn and I shared. But, before he departed, I stopped him.
"I think we have known each other long enough for you to call me by my given name," I said with a little pleasant sigh.
Elrohir's handsome face stretched into a grin. "Good-night, Braedia," he said with a little bow.
"Good-night, Elrohir. And thank you for indulging my curiosity," I said.
He bowed a little and then we parted ways. Yes, I liked Elrohir very much.
The next morning, the entire camp was packed and moving before the sun had fully crested the horizon. Elrohir led the way through the trees, his elven eyesight lending itself to the task of navigator. I was sitting in my saddle, yawning a little every now and again. Despite retiring late, I had found it difficult to sleep. I was too anxious and restless to find enough peace.
When I had been roused, I was dressed in the riding gown that Éowyn and I had had picked as the proper frock for greeting the army. It was a nice shade of green, a color akin to peat moss, and was made of a silk-linen blend. The sleeves went to my wrists, but were tight to my arms instead of having the great cuffs. The bodice was simple, but the neckline came up and laid flat against my neck with a little collar. The skirt gave me enough volume to ride astride, like all of my other dresses.
But there was a slit in the side that suggested that this was truly a dress intended for side-saddle. The back of the dress, the part that would have been on display if I was riding like a lady, was intricately designed with little darts in the fabric to give it texture and dimension, as well as embroidery around the darts to but those elements more into focus. However, as I was riding astride, the cascading effect was nearly lost. Éowyn had tried once again to get me to ride like she did, but I was adamant.
As the company moved and the sunlight grew brighter, I began to see the signs of Sauron's work in this part of the world. There were many trees that looked to be blackened from fire, and many others that were carved deep with ancient symbols of malice. I gave and involuntary shudder as we passed through the ruins of a small homestead. The house had been burned, and the small fields looked like they would never grow food again. I was glad when Elrohir sped the company to a soft canter until we had all passed by the site.
Soon after, we started to hear the sounds of the camp. I knew that the army had been large, so the Cormallen would have been the perfect place to camp. It was a wide open field, surrounded by a line of trees. There was a small house, an outpost for scouts that sat on top of a small hill, which allowed those inside to look out across the expanse. I had tried to find it, but I knew that it was only able to be spotted from a distance, and it had been too dark when we would have been far enough away to see it. Now that we were closer, the outpost was hidden by the tall branches.
But at last, we broke through the line of trees and into the wide fields. I gasped softly as I saw the field filled with tents. There was a clear path to the center of the encampment, but it seemed that all of the soldiers were mingled together. I saw that a soldier from Gondor sat with two of the Rohirrim, and a Swan Knight of Dol Amroth was approaching with stew from a fire. They all gave us a mighty cheer as they saw us approach. The cry followed us through the encampment, all the way to the center.
Our band gathered in the main square, and I found my view of the commanders blocked slightly, as Éowyn and I were forced behind some of the ranking officers.
"Hail, King Elessar, Éomer King, Prince Imrahil," Elrohir called out.
"My friend, I am glad to see you have returned," Aragorn said brightly.
I tried to peak around the bodies, even standing in my stirrups slightly. Éomer was here, but I could not see him. I huffed a silent sigh, resigning myself to wait.
"Come, friends. You are most welcome here. You may set up your camps wherever you choose," Aragorn said, his voice sounding so happy.
The soldiers muttered their acceptance of the orders and dispersed, allowing Éowyn and I to come forward. I looked at the line of commanders, and my heart nearly stopped when my eyes landed on Éomer. Everything else fell away, not even the greetings Aragorn was giving myself and Éowyn. I nodded vaguely, but my breath seemed caught in my throat, so no words would or could come out. Éomer was looking right at me. I could hear my heartbeats in my ears, drowning out all other sound.
He was beautiful, even dressed in his battle armor. A few locks of his hair had been pulled back, but he looked a little windblown, as if he had just gotten back from a ride. I found myself unable to move, for fear that I would somehow embarrass myself. He, however, stepped forward to be at my side.
"May I?" he asked.
Oh, it was glorious to hear his voice again. I nearly burst into tears at the sound, but I kept my composure. I would have normally given him some smart remark about my being able to dismount my own horse, thank you very much, but I just wanted to feel his touch again. I nodded a little, and he reached up to take me by the waist. I gently slid from the saddle, and I felt his strength as he helped me. He barely seemed to put any effort forward, and my feet landed softly.
I looked up at him, his face shining in a bright smile. His hands were warm on my waist, and I could feel the blush in my cheeks.
"How are you, mín wifrnyne [my love]?" he breathed, so soft that I barely heard him.
But my heart soared as I heard the Rohirric endearment. "Wonderful," I said, that being the only word that could come to my mind to describe my feelings.
My heart became so overwhelmed with feelings of joy that tears started to leak from my eyes as I laughed. Éomer's brow furrowed and his hands went to my cheeks and his thumbs wiped away the tears. His hands, his rough hands from years of fighting, felt like the most luxurious fabric.
Then, despite all of my preparation, I couldn't contain myself any longer. I leaped at Éomer, latching myself around his neck. He seemed startled for a moment, but then returned my embrace as fiercely as I was giving it. His arms wrapped around my ribs, holding me a little off of the ground. I kept saying his name, crying and laughing at the same time. It felt so right to be in his arms. His omnipresent scent surrounded me, and I felt him press his face into my hair and breathe deeply. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, unwilling to part from him. His hands slid up my sides and down my arms. He gently detached me from his neck, and I was confused as I came back down to the ground. But I looked at him, and he held my hands.
"We will have a proper reunion later," he whispered with a sly wink.
I giggled and reached up, brushing away the remaining tears from my face. The world was starting to come back, and I noticed that everyone had sort of moved off. I gave Éomer a questioning look.
"Aragorn has prepared a meal for you and your company," Éomer explained.
I nodded and Éomer looped one of my hands through his elbow. I blushed, but allowed him to lead me away toward the command tent. I was still glowing with happiness from his mere presence. I wanted to lean into him, just to have the feeling of his touch, but I had to suffice with just his hand resting on top of mine that he had looped through his arm.
When we entered the command tent, I heard my name. I looked at saw that Legolas was approaching me. I had nearly forgotten about him in all the excitement of being back with Éomer. He approached and we gave each other the traditional Elven greeting. But then he gave a tight smile and looked to Éomer in askance. Éomer laughed and rolled his eyes a little before detaching my arm from his.
I was confused for a moment, but then Legolas swept me into a tight embrace. I laughed with him, though a little shocked at this form of expression. He set me back down, but kept his hands on my shoulders, as if inspecting me.
"Are you still injured, Braedia?" Legolas asked, a little sternly.
I blushed a little and looked away. There was some stiffness in my legs, but it wasn't the pain I had experienced a week or so ago.
"Not so much that I couldn't come to see you," I said, with a little smile.
My hand found Éomer's at his side and I gave it a little squeeze, just so he knew that I meant him most of all.
We all turned as the supper was laid out on the low table. We all sat on cushions on the ground, eating and talking. I spent most of the meal in silence, just listening to everything that everyone was saying. Merry and Pippin were talking animatedly with Éowyn about the battle, Gimli interrupting every now and again with some correction or addition. Aragorn was sitting serenely at the head of the table, just looking out over everything with a satisfied smile. I was sitting next to Éomer, subtly leaning my body into him so we were touching. Now that we were together again, I just felt the overwhelming urge to have physical contact with him at all times.
As the meal was drawing to a close, Éomer slipped his hand into mine under the table and gave me a smile.
"My legs grow restless. Would you care to accompany me for a walk?" Éomer asked, leaning over to whisper in my ear.
His hushed tone and proximity sent a shiver up my spine that I was barely able to contain. He leaned away and I gave him a pleasant smile.
"Of course, diórling [darling]," I said.
Éomer stood and helped me to my feet. We made the proper excuses before slipping from the tent.
A/N: So I won't keep you waiting for long. But these are a few responses.
Lystan: I love that saying! HAHAHA
Guest: I really wish that everyone would at least leave me a name for me to use to respond to them with even if they don't want to sign in...
Abi: Yes, that's why I want to do a story about Braedia's past with Boromir just to get all of this stuff out.
LightsCDark: Yes, a little more tension in this chapter, but it will be resolved soon.
deepofnight: Eomer's too smart to be drawn in, even if Lothi does get clever.
