The ride to Edoras was a subdued one for the most part, all those in the party were consumed with their own thoughts and digesting the meeting with Saruman. The news had been alarming, the idea that the enemy had found some advantage to exploit, 'something festering' as the traitorous wizard had put it. Gandalf did not speak at all for the entirety of the return journey and those around him knew it better to give him silence in order to think, to find what the flaw in their defence could be.
Well, most people knew better.
"-and that was when we met Treebeard, you saw Treebeard, he was the fellow with the big beard who went bah-rum a lot, loves mice and poetry though between you and me he could work a little on the length because I'm pretty sure he was well into his twentieth verse by the time Merry and I fell asleep but he was still going when we awoke! Of course he could have stopped but he doesn't seem the type to-"
"Pippin," Nemireth nudged the hobbit gently with her elbow and nodded to Gandalf.
"Oh, right," he fell quiet, but alas, Pippin was not one to let a silence hang long, "What's he thinking about?"
"I can't say," She turned in her saddle to regard her passenger. He looked so young, so fresh-faced…it was hard to grasp that he was indeed older than her by some years, "I suspect it's something of great importance."
"Could be," He nodded, "Or he could be thinking of his pipe. Have you ever seen Gandalf blow shapes with his pipe-smoke?"
"I…have not," His answer had taken her completely by surprise.
"Oh, it's amazing! Dragons, ships, birds, he can create them all just with a puff of his cheeks!" His voice was growing in strength again, "Once he created two dragons and had them fight!"
"Pippin," Another jerk of the head towards Gandalf, who now they both noticed was regarding them over his shoulder with narrowed eyes.
"Oh yeah, sorry," He seemed to shrink a little until the wizard had looked away, voice falling to a whisper, "It's just, I've not been home in such a long time. It helps when I think of such happy times. Don't you think of home, Princess? You must have many happy memories you can dwell on in the quiet and darker hours."
"I do," She looked him in the eye, those ever eager, innocent eyes and she smiled before looking away, "But it's quite hard to recall them at the moment."
So it was in silence that they rode the rest of the way, past Erkenbrand's garrison and the battlefield on which Théodred had fallen and down the same road the joint Rohirrim and Aeanorean Army had retreated following that victory. It was not long before Edoras burst over the horizon and loomed over them, untouched from when they had last left it. Aragorn had spoken the truth of Saruman's army; there really had been no focus other than the destruction of Rohan's people, for the capital had been bypassed entirely. Now it was being reoccupied by those very same people, the trail of returning inhabitants stretching over the horizon, watched every step of the way by Éomer's men.
As they approached the Golden Hall, it was impossible not to see the figure of Éowyn awaiting at the top of the steps though Théoden quickly took her aside, speaking in low whispers. The hall itself, far from the dark and cold space she remembered, was now bustling with activity as preparations were made for a feast that evening, fires roaring in every hearth. They were not given much time to enjoy it, the Fellowship being bustled out and shown to their rooms to prepare, one for each of them and a shared space for the two hobbits. Nemireth was more than happy to say her goodbyes to her friends, finding her door guarded by two members of her Guard who lowered their heads at her presence.
The Princess returned the gesture, declined the offer of ladies-in-waiting from her accompanying servant and promptly closed the door, giving herself a moment by herself at last. She was not sure for how long she just stood in the centre of the simple space, just taking a moment to exist, to breath. There was only so long she could manage it before those thoughts began to creep back, the sounds and smells of battle, the feelings of loss and pain so she hurriedly moved on.
A basin had been provided for her, filled with what had likely been hot water when it had been placed but had gone lukewarm by the time she went to use it. Washing her hair took an age, the Princess wincing more than once as she worked out the thick, black, claggy lumps had been there for only Eru knew how long, gasping a few times as she touched at the wound on her forehead or pulled a bit too hard at her roots. Eventually, she lost patience, took a pair of convenient shears and just cutting anything lower than her shoulders away. Even then, she thrice she had to request fresh water as the basin become home to a thick, foul-smelling soup, the accumulated filth from weeks of battle, marching and sleeping in the field. Persistence eventually paid off and her hair was restored to its natural brown. It was then on to scrubbing off the layers of filth from her skin. Her ladies-in-waiting back in Minas Luin would have had a fit had they seen her now, hair clean but unkempt, clothes torn and tattered. They would have clucked their tongues and set about her like a hunting pack, making sure every detail of her appearance was perfect. That felt like a world away, a life ago.
A long and flowing green dress had been provided, simple in design but elegant all the same with long sleeves and a tight fit around the hips along with an apology note from Éowyn, apparently all they had available in the scramble to return to Edoras. It was a shame, as she did so loathe dresses but the alternative was her filthy and muddy tunic so she made do and tied what remained of her hair into a ponytail with a leather strap left for just that purpose. After checking that she was presentable in the provided hand mirror to ensure she had not missed anything, she set off for the feast.
When she had first entered this hall, it had been empty and devoid of any sort of hope. Now it was filled with people, every space on every bench occupied by the Rohirrim; rich and poor, men and women with eyes watching the throne. There Théoden stood, with Éomer to one side and Éowyn the other. A few turned to regard her as she entered and the Princess scurried to where the others were sitting, dressed in finer clothing than she had seen Rivendell and sat herself down between Aragorn and Legolas. She made eyes with Éowyn and there was a mouthed "sorry" to her.
Théoden stood and all conversation fell away at once. He rose his cup solemnly and the audience before him rose, tankards in hand, "Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country," A moment's pause, "Hail the victorious dead!"
"Hail!" Those in the hall drank deeply of their tankards and Nemireth went to do the same. The beer within was as strong as she remembered, no less vile than it had been when she had sat in the Golden Sow, with Théodred and Xiphos, discussing the plans for the coming campaign. The thought of both them stung and the Princess drank, as deeply as those around her. It burned at the back of her throat like a liquid fire and the taste had her screwing her face up before she could stop herself, yet still she drank. In memory of those who had not made it this far.
Nemireth had been to many banquets and balls in her lifetime and they had earned a special place of loathing in her mind. They were not events to be enjoyed but rather chances to engage in warfare of a different kind. The sort of place where an alliance could be made and broken in a single evening, dynasties secured and rivals dethroned. A time of honied promises and vague threats, part of a greater game she had never been interested in playing.
Rohan's answer to such could not have been more different.
After the toast of the King, it felt as if all formality and civility had vanished, drowned in a fountain of ale as those who had been seated arose and intermingled, men exchanging their own toasts and exchanging uproariously funny stories while women cackled and moved from table to table, the words spilling forth from their lips enough to make any lady of high society blush. All the while, the beer flowed like a river, no tankard left empty for too long.
Almost immediately Nemireth was beset by Rohirrim, men and women alike who were more than keen to share with her the memories of the battles that had led them to here;
"You should have seen them at the Ford! Cut their way through any orc that faced them they did! Nearly reached poor Prince Théodred, blessings on his soul!"
"Well, I rode with a patrol on the Old King's Road when they rescued a caravan from uruk-hai! Such a sight have I never seen, armour gleaming in the sun! Horns blowing, it was like the good old days of Thengel!"
"I was there when we fought in Edoras! Those Aeanoreans faced us down like a pack of dogs and fought their corner like true warriors!" Uproarious laughter filled her ears.
"None of that compares to the hall of the Hornburg though! When they stood with us in the very end! The King rode off to die on the field!"
"Aye, it was the Princess who stood with us!"
"Blessings on you, Princess!"
"Aye! Princess Nemireth," A tankard was raised, "The Hallkeeper!"
"Aye!" Every tankard around her was now in the air, a light rainfall of ale falling into her newly washed hair and clean dress, the crowd chanting the word, "Hallkeeper! Hallkeeper! Hallkeeper!"
Nemireth smiled with them and nodded at all the right points but the gestures were hollow for she could not bring herself to feel joy at their recollection. Having so many people pressing around her was disquieting, like an animal in a cage to be gawked at and watched from afar, like she was trapped.
A hand reached in and took her by the sleeve. Nemireth nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Now, now!" Éowyn was laughing, cheeks flushed, "Others desire the company of the princesses! You're making us all jealous!"
Far from being angered by the Lady of Rohan's presence, the crowd cheered and broke into smaller groups, the conversation not so much as skipping a beat as Éowyn steered Nemireth to a relatively quiet part of the hall.
"Thank you," Nemireth's ears were ringing. Only now did she realise how loud everyone had been shouting.
"You looked a little busy," The blond-haired woman laughed, "judging from your face, you could do with my aid. Are you enjoying your ale?" She nodded to the still mostly full tankard in the Princess' hands.
Nemireth looked down at it in wonder. She was so sure she had drained most of it during the toast, "It's…an acquired taste."
"So very diplomatic," Éowyn chuckled, "My advice? Sip on it through the night and in a few hours, there'll be very few capable of noticing."
Nemireth pulled a face, "So I have to keep drinking it?"
Éowyn laughed again, "I'll have to try Aeanorean wine some day and see how it compares."
"Sweeter, with much less…hay in it." Nemireth could not keep a smile from crossing her lips as she and Éowyn chinked their tankards together.
"Have you cut your hair," Éowyn had been glancing it sporadically and only now did the recognition dawn.
"It seemed easier than cleaning it all out."
"Well, it suits you! Once I-"
"Lassie! Lassie! Where is she? There she is! Come here!" The gruff voice was coming from a nearby table and it was unmistakeably Gimli, "Come watch this!"
"Go on," Éowyn gave her a gentle nudge, "I've got plenty to do." And true to her word she was practically swept away by another band of revellers.
Bypassing a table on which Merry and Pippin were dancing and singing to a considerable crowd, Nemireth made her way to where Gimli and Legolas sat with Éomer presiding, leaning over a barrel that seemed to have been brought specifically for the purpose and who was in the middle of explaining something to both, "-no pauses, and no spills."
"And, no regurgitation!" The Dwarf was all but bouncing on the bench, like a child awaiting a gift.
"So, it's a drinking game?" Legolas seemed as baffled as she.
"Last one standing wins!" And with that, Gimli took his tankard to his lips and began gulping it down as if he had not drunk in weeks, followed a little less enthusiastically by Legolas.
"I take it this was Gimli's idea?" She asked Legolas between tankards, arms folded, and eyebrow raised.
"He was very keen." The Elf shrugged before resuming the competition.
She would have passed comment to Éomer but the Marshal of Rohan was much more engaged in the competition than she was, as were many others who stood around and chanted for one or the other, and so she found a good pillar to lean against and watch two of her friends consume as much ale in minutes as she had drank in her entire life. Speaking of which…she took another sip of her own. It tasted even worse than before. How was that possible? Was alcohol not supposed to improve with age? Or was that just wine?
"Nemireth," Aragorn appeared over her shoulder, "You did not feel like partaking?" A nod to the drinkers.
She shook her head, "You?"
"Alas, I am no great drinker," By now Gimli had assembled a small pile of empty tankards before him and showed no signs of slowing down, "And wisdom has taught me never to challenge a dwarf on such matters."
"Will he be alright? He is drinking quite a lot."
"He'll be good as new after a rest," Aragorn smiled, but she recognised the gesture, one that did not extend to his eyes, one that alarmed her as much as any she had seen.
"You're worried."
There was little he could but acknowledge it with a small bow of his head, "Being in the dark about our enemy's movements is concerning, but we shall get word soon."
She did not share his confidence but then now was not the time to dent his optimism, not when there was so much happiness around him. Especially from Gimli, who delivered a burp which could have woken the dead and had Nemireth wrinkling her nose in disgust, "Aragorn, can I ask a question?"
"Of course."
"If you are the rightful king of Gondor, why did you…" She stopped, suddenly unsure of how to finish her question now that he was looking at her, "I mean, how did you…actually, it's okay, I apologise for as-"
"You want to know why I did not take up my birth right," He finished it for her and the Princess groaned at the expression he gave her, one of pain.
"I'm sorry, you don't have to answer."
"It's alright, and had I an answer I would tell you it now but honestly, it was for many reasons. I felt unready, unworthy to take the throne of those great men who had come before me. I felt I could do more good to the north, in the former lands of Arnor and," He sighed, "I feared the Ring, and the power it once held over my kin. There are many reasons, none stronger than the others."
"I'm sorry," The guilt welled up in her and she berated herself for having asked such an insensitive question at such a time, "I think you'll make a great king."
"Truly?" He gave her lopsided grin.
"I would follow you," She nodded vigorously, "These men would follow you. I cannot see why others would not."
He chuckled, "It's not often one gets such royal endorsement." Someone called his name from the crowd, "I must go. Let me know who wins?"
"I would not be optimistic if I had money on Gimli," The dwarf was already swaying in his seat, beard soaked despite Éomer's instructions as between tankards he began to speak all manner of nonsense.
"It's the dwarves that go swimming with little hairy women hehehe" Was one such gem amongst other, much more vulgar declarations that her tutting and rolling her eyes. Half the crowd was growing desperate, seeing that their chosen champion was beginning to falter, "Red meat off the bone!"
"I can feel something," Legolas announced out of nowhere, to the surprise of both herself and Éomer. Would he be the first to fall? "A slight tingle in my fingertips…I think it's affecting me." He seemed alarmed by this.
"What did I tell you?" Was what she thought Gimli said but it came out as a single word so it was hard to know for sure, "He can't hold his liquor…" And with that, Gimli was gone, lying on the floor in a pool of his own drool and drink. The crowd applauded or despaired as money was exchanged and the protestations began over the fairness of the competition, mostly being led by those who were now out of pocket.
With a tut she went to leave but found herself pressed in by the crowd. A man knocked against her, too busy laughing with his friends to notice that he had spilled part of her ale over both him and her. It felt people were pressing around her, different to the start of the evening. Many were not speaking so much as making sounds to one another, or repeating the same phrases over and over, pushing and shoving and tripping. A man sprawled before her to the great laughter of his companions.
Suddenly the room was too warm. Her breath quickened. The air was hard to breath and her head began to throb.
All but throwing the nearest out of the way, she made for the door.
The cool night air hit her like a wet towel across the face. Only then did she realise she had been sweating. Gulping in as deep a breath as she could manage, she ignored the looks of the guards at the door and instead closed her eyes. The muted sounds of the party within the hall met her ears but instead, she focused on the wind.
"You needed some fresh air as well?" Legolas joined her, looking none the worse for his duel with Gimli.
"Yes," The word came out weaker than she expected, but with a breath she steadied herself, "It's…not the sort of party I'm used to."
"Indeed, very different to an elven feast," He was watching her with some worry.
"I suppose they're much more sedate affairs?"
"On the contrary, alcohol flows as freely and the festivities can go for days, albeit not quite as…boisterously."
"I thought you were coping rather well with your drink."
"Elven alcohol is much stronger than that of men or dwarves."
She smiled, "Don't tell Gimli that or he may take it as a challenge."
"His biggest challenge tomorrow may be rising before sundown, I fear."
She laughed, a genuine laugh and it surprised her. They had been so few and far between and now of all times, she had never felt like laughing less. And yet still she had done so.
Taking a seat at the edge of the foundation atop which the Golden Hall sat, with nothing but air beneath her feet and the star-spotted sky before her. Looking back, she patted the stone at her side and Legolas joined her. They were so close she could all but hear his heartbeat.
"I see you've been enjoying your ale," He nodded to the stain at her midriff.
"Not my fault, alas," She made a face, "And not my dress. I hope this is easy to wash out, or people may take me for a drunkard."
"I would not worry. It does not take from your beauty."
"Thank you," She bit her lip and looked to him, looked into those fierce eyes, "What of my still full tankard? Does that detract from my beauty?"
"A little, but no woman is perfect."
Another laugh, a genuine throaty laugh as she dared lean against him. She could feel his body tense under her touch and for a second she feared he would pull away but instead he relaxed and placed an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer.
"We received news from Lothlorien, you will be glad to hear. Haldir and his men made it back to the Golden Wood. The Lady sends her sincere gratitude to you for your aid in helping so many return to their homeland."
"I am glad," Try as she might, Nemireth could not bring any joy to her voice, spirits that had been so high moments ago dropping like a stone from the top of Orthanc, "That we could be of some service."
He looked into her face, searching, and this time she could not hide her sorrow, not this time. She found she did not even want to hide it, she wanted him to see, "You fear it was not worth it."
"So many men, Legolas," Her voice broke, "They were my men. They died because of me. Xiphos…died…because of me…"
He pulled her tighter to him and she buried her head in his white tunic, feeling tears stinging at her eyes again, "It's my fault."
He placed his head atop hers and she held on to him tightly, as if he were all that was keeping her from being swept away by the winds, "There is nothing I can say that will make your guilt weigh less upon your soul but listen," Even over the wind, the sounds of song from within the Golden Hall were clear, if still muted, "They sing and drink because of what your men did. See those cottages down there with fires in their hearths and children in their beds? They're there because of your men. Already I've heard their name spoken across the city; the Blue Company. They fought as fiercely as I have ever seen men fight and Rohan will never forget them for it."
"But what if I could have saved them, Legolas? What if there was something else, I could have done?"
"It is the harshest reality of leading, Nemireth. Sometimes, we have to accept that there is nothing more we could have done."
She sniffled in reply and dabbed at her cheeks. He was right. There was no magic fix, nothing that would make her feel better overnight, but it was as Xiphos had said; a soldier can die for something he believes in. Xiphos had believed in Rohan. By his blood, and the blood of his men, they had succeeded. He had believed in her and now she saw that same belief in the eyes of her remaining men. She would not let them down. She would not allow that hope be in vain.
"Thank you," She whispered.
He pulled her into a tighter hug and she replied in kind, holding him close and just enjoying his presence, his warmth.
"So, did the princess live happily ever after?"
"Hmm?" She looked back up at him, brow furrowing.
"On the way to Isengard. Did the princess tree escape the count of the forest? Did her father bless the relationship between she and her love from a different tree tribe?"
Now it came back to her and she broke into a wide smile, "He did not approve at first, but when he saw how happy they were together, his wooden heart melted and he blessed their love. They lived happily ever after."
They sat like that for an age, just looking up at the stars. They were in the centre of a busy city and yet they could have been the only two people in the whole of Middle Earth.
"We should go back," He eventually whispered to her, hauling himself to his feet to her protestations as she did the same. "It sounds like the party is over."
"Must we?"
"People will start talking."
"Do you care?"
"And Gimli may have awoken early."
"Ah, now that is much more concerning." Beside her sat her tankard, still a third full and with a noise of disgust she tossed its contents into the night sky.
Legolas was waiting with some amusement, "Éowyn would be-" He stopped, eyes widening as a hand went for arrows that were not at his back. "He is here!"
He rushed for the doors, throwing it open to the confusion of the guards watching it. Nemireth could only follow, heart sinking as they rushed through the now empty hall and to one of the bedrooms. The first thing her eyes fell on was Aragorn on his knees, gripping fiercely to the orb which had dropped at Isengard, twisting and spasming as if he were in terrible pain. It was no longer a glassy black but burning a fierce orange and it felt as if all light, all warmth in the room was being sucked to it. Just as Legolas reached him, he fell and dropped the glowing ball to the ground where it rolled as if it had a mind of its own. She went to grab it.
"Do not touch it!" Gandalf bellowed so fiercely that she leapt back as if burned. The Wizard tossed a cloak over it and like that, the hold it had kept over the room vanished.
"Fool of a Took!" She had no idea who he was talking so but then saw, beyond the prone but breathing Aragorn, Pippin lay perfectly still, eyes wide open.
"No…" She went to him but Gandalf got there first, throwing aside a panicking Merry as he placed a hand on his forehead.
"Is…he can't be…" She took Merry into her arms and held him tight but she could not keep him from watching. All around who had been in the room slumbering stood nervously at the margins, close to the walls. Thundering footsteps came from beyond and before long Théoden stood with a mixture of Aeanorean and Rohirrim troops with blades drawn.
The Wizard was whispering. What he was saying she could not hear but within seconds, Pippin gasped awake, blinking back tears as he looked around in a scrambled panic, glazed in a cold sweat. Any relief Nemireth might have felt was washed away by the look in his eyes. Merry was shaking in her arms.
"Pippin," Gandalf shook the hobbit and drew his eyes to him, "What did you see?"