lmao glad you guys enjoyed the pirates of the Caribbean reference in the last chapter ;) (I can recite At Worlds End too perfectly hahah)
XXII- Flowers that Fall
"My Lady?" Eowyn's voice was soft but full of grief as she watched the King return to the sanctuary of his hall. Each of Théoden's steps was laboured with the weight of new grief and Mirren wondered how mortal men could live with the knowledge of doom hanging so imminently upon them. Knowing that their children or children's children could die before them.
Turning at the sound of the maiden's voice, Mirren felt Legolas slip from her side as the beautiful blonde woman looked up at her wearily.
"We do not often have elven visitors here, but I can find some fresh clothes and some water for you to bathe in before we put my cousin to rest." Eowyn offered, Mirren was struck by the strength in her voice and the sense of duty that so clearly belonged in the blonde woman's heart.
"That would be beyond lovely, thank you, my lady." Mirren returned, smiling gratefully.
At the sound of the elleth's voice Eowyn could not help but smile. Elves were seldom in Rohan and she had never had the chance to be acquainted with one before. To the lady, Mirren seemed both fierce and fragile, strong and subtle, as if she could see everything of the world in the blink of her eye. The elleth was taller than her and had long brown locks that curled at the ends where they weren't tucked up in extravagant braids behind her ears.
As they walked into the hall, they chatted lightly about life in Rohan and the slow poisoning of King Théoden by Saruman.
"I heard you saw my brother on the plains, my lady." Eowyn said as they entered a small but comfortable room with a large bed. Behind a screen, Mirren spotted a small wooden bathtub that she more than desired to bathe in. "How was he?"
The worry in her gaze was evident, although she tried to hide it. Removing her cloak slowly, Mirren considered her reply, thinking of Eomer and the large and fearsome eored he commanded.
"He looked strong.. although weary of unexplained travelers…" The elf mused, "He was angry, I think, at being pushed from the King's side."
"It was Wormtounge's fault." Eowyn explained, looking down, "He manipulated my Uncle into banishing him from our lands because he was speaking out about the hardships our people are facing."
"…Your brother will be a good leader." Mirren acknowledged, settling her cloak down on the bed. "Eomer clearly loves Rohan and its people."
The Lady nodded; her thoughts lost for a moment as she considered her brothers new position as the only heir to their Uncle. Shaking her thoughts away, she looked around the room slowly.
"I know it's not much but-" Eowyn began lightly,
Mirren shook her head, "-No! This is perfect. Thank you."
The Lady of Rohan smiled, "There's warm water in the basin. I'll have someone bring you a dress for the funeral. I would stay but I have to get ready myself."
As the lady turned, Mirren called her back, "Thank you, Lady Eowyn... Try to remember that all hope is not yet lost."
The woman nodded slowly, walking like a shadow through Edoras' halls to her own chambers.
After a quick but restful bath, Mirren found two dresses waiting for her neatly on the bed. Setting her dirty clothes at the foot of the tub, she smiled ruefully at Eowyn's attention to detail as they were both hues sea blues and greens; almost the same shades as her riding gear. Mirren thought that one dress was significantly more extravagant than the other; it was a lighter shade, and firmer to touch, with a low scooped neckline and finely embroidered bodice. The other, while no less beautiful, was only marked out as richly made by the hands of men through a small threading of silver along the cuffs of the sleeves and each hem. She set the first one aside, picking the simpler dress with sleeves that opened at the wrist. Where elven dresses were lightweight and freeing, there was something that felt safe and reassuring about the heaviness of the woolen material and the way it fit snugly to her curves that made Mirren appreciate the handiwork of the dressmaker who had designed it.
The elleth had kept Legolas' neat braids in her hair as she bathed and did little but scoop the fly -a-ways away from her face, slipping her leather boots on before departing once more for Théoden's Hall.
The funeral was a somber affair. Grey clouds passed overhead as Theodred's body was carried out of the Southern city gates to the burial mounds. As guests, Mirren walked beside Legolas and Gimli as they followed the mourning King. The people of Edoras honoured the Theodred behind them, trailing out of the city in silence.
Mirren wondered at the traditions of men and shivered at the thought of her body being buried so- to remain for eternity under the ground.
As they approached the tomb, the Prince was passed from the King's guard to the women and Eowyn began to sing. The song was full of emotion and Mirren's respect for the woman grew with every note. To sing so beautifully when one's heart was so full of grief was a task that even Mirren did not think she would be able to take on.
Soon, the young man's body was sealed in the tomb and around them, the people of Rohan began to disperse, some weeping and many silent for the loss of their Prince.
The Fellowship remained for a little while, before Legolas and Gimli returned to the hall, in search of food and the weapons they had lost at the start of the day.
"You look nice." Aragorn began when the elf was out of earshot, "…I'm surprised the elf could bare to walk away from you."
Swiftly Mirren punched him in the shoulder, thankful that they were now almost alone in front of the tomb and few people could see her actions.
"Shut up."
Aragorn smiled at her expense but remained silent, bowing his head when Gandalf turned from in front of them and motioned for the pair to return to the keep.
"Grief if a thing that must be shared to be overcome." Mirren said under her breath in elvish, as she observed the King kneeling at his son's grave with Mithrandir beside him. The elleth thought for a while of her father and wondered if their lives could have been different if he had merely shared the grief of losing Mirren's mother, instead of pushing each other away and eventually falling to bitterness.
"How do you bare it?" Mirren asked softly. They were halfway back to the city and Aragorn lowered his head to hear her words. "How do you bare being away from her." She repeated slowly.
"I don't…" Aragorn huffed, briefly pausing to look at the mountainous horizon before he replied, "When we left Rivendell, every step towards Mordor was a step away from my heart."
Mirren sighed, looking towards the gates, where Legolas and Gimli could still be seen as they wondered into Edoras.
"but… I know I must fight," Aragorn continued, "And that she will be better without me. Her kin will keep her safe in the undying lands."
Mirren shook her head, watching her feet as they climbed up the rocky path to the city gates. "You underestimate her, my friend. Arwen's fate is tied to the hope of men, Estel… You have known this since you first met her in the halls of her father."
Aragorn shook his head, and for the first time his friend saw the silent weight that had settled on his shoulders.
"What is it, my friend?" She asked, her dark eyebrows scrunching together in rare confusion.
"Arwen must leave." He said, "I promised Elrond that I would not return to Rivendell… even if our quest is successful."
Mirren's eyes grew wide. She did not know that the half-elven had asked this of him.
After a small while she spoke, and her words were strong and wise. "It is true our chances of victory are slim." She began, "But hope remains! I can see that much…. And while hope remains, Arwen will not leave. She has more faith in you than she has in herself - For this reason, I believe, even her father cannot make her sail."
Before the Ranger could reply, a cry in the distance caught their attention. Behind them, someone had shouted for help. Smoothly, Mirren turned to see two small children, starkly juxtaposed against the golden horizon as they fell, exhausted, off a kingly horse.
The hall of the King broke out into a swift chaos as a rider was sent out to collect the children. Mirren and Aragorn followed Gandalf back to the throne room, taking care to study the condition of the small ones as they were carried in after them.
"Do you have a herbalist? A healer?" Mirren asked Eowyn as the Lady ferried the little girl to a table in the great hall. Waiting at the door, Legolas carried the older boy and lay him down next to his sister once she was settled. Despite the warmth of the hall and the food that was prepared for him the child did not begin to stir.
Eowyn looked puzzled but answered Mirren's question anyway, "The town healer died not three months back, but Lady Breaca has the most knowledge of healing in Edoras now."
"Lady Breaca?" Mirren repeated the name, "Where can I find her?"
"Uh- in the small house next to the stables, the roof is thatched, and the door was once painted red, you cannot miss it!" Eowyn replied, pointing to the doors with a distracted arm.
Mirren nodded, squeezing Legolas' arm as she passed him, "Prepare some hot water, I will not be long."
Swiftly, she set off out the doors, jumping down three steps at a time as she headed towards the stables. As the Lady of Edoras had said, a small hut lay parallel with the great horse sanctuary, its door, once red, had faded and cracked paint crusted at its top and bottom. Mirren was surprised to find it un-bolted and ajar.
Clearing her throat, she knocked gently, waiting a moment before entering.
"Yes?" a light voice called from inside. It sounded muffled, as if its owner was holding something it her mouth. Sure enough, as Mirren entered standing at a table to the left side of the small place stood a girl, grinding herbs with great concentration written in the pull of her eyebrows and the wooden spoon clasped in her teeth.
Upon seeing the elf, she dropped her herbs and bowed poorly, wiping her hands on her tattered apron.
"My lady!" she almost gasped, putting down the spoon to stand up straight. "How can I help you?"
"Lady Breaca?"
The girl nodded, a few loose dark ringlets escaping the knot she had tied upon her head. She was completely unlike the Rohirrim women that Mirren had seen, but the contrast between her and Eowyn was most striking to the elleth. Where Eowyn was light and bright, this woman was dark and smooth. She had a rounded face and warm, dark brown eyes.
"Just Breaca, please…" The woman corrected, smiling nervously.
"I hear you have a little knowledge of healing?" Mirren asked, a small smile tugging at her lips as she stepped further into the room. Evidently this girl had more than a little talent. Around the hut lay herbs and pastes that even elvish healers would be proud to own. Mirren dragged her hand across the top of a wooden table where pastes lay in varying colours. "...Do you make these all yourself?"
"Yes….I do what I can, but it is not spectacular."
"It's wonderful!" Mirren breathed and truly, this woman's hut was beyond any of her expectations. "…I, uh wondered if you had any cuttings of Lissuin." Mirren questioned, remembering the small children in the keep. The elvish name for the plant was obviously not known to the dark-haired girl and the blue-eyed elleth tried to describe it to her. "Uhm…It's a small sweet-smelling flower, a light yellow or golden colour… almost like honey, that blossoms near water in the spring."
The girl considered her description for a moment before placing down the paste she had been making and ducking her head under the table.
"Are the petals small?" She asked, her voice lost somewhere below Mirren's knees.
"Small and golden, yes." Mirren tried to follow her gaze to the floor, but the woman briskly stood.
"I think I might have some dried..." Breaca's eyes glanced to her ceiling, within its concaves three-fold a dozen dried bouquets hung from miss-matched ribbon and rope. When Mirren looked up, her jaw dropped, the elleth thought it was like a spring garden had been frozen in full bloom and had been made to sprout from the dry-thatched roof.
Climbing on a stool, the woman swept her hair aside and plucked a fistfull of the small yellow flowered plant from the roof.
"We call it Erenuin.. It is given as a gift." The girl blushed, "For friends... And, well, mainly for lovers as a parting gift before the men ride off to war…will this do?" She asked,
"Brilliantly!" Mirren thanked, asking if Breaca would like to accompany her back to the keep.
"Is something wrong?" The Lady of Rphan asked,
"Two children from the Westfold could do with a little hep from you, I think." The elleth offered, making her way to the door. "Are you coming? Lady Eowyn speaks highly of you."
Breaca blushed once more and set down all that she had been holding. Rapidly, the two women ran back up Edoras' stairs to the keep.
Entering the hall, Mirren grabbed the steaming bowl of water that had been placed in front of the children and placed in the cuttings of the Lissuin plant.
Slowly she muttered some elvish words over the pot and the leaves dissolved, each small flower petal glowing gold before seeping into the broth.
"Lissuin." Legolas breathed and Mirren wondered when he had come to stand so close. "'Whose fragrance brings heart's ease.'" He quoted.
"It should wake them softly." Mirren explained to Eowyn, who looked equally doubtful and fascinated at the movement of the elves. Never before had she believed so strongly in the magic of their race, but seeing their work up close, she was amazed.
At the presence of sweet-smelling broth, Eothain began to wake and Mirren and Breaca gently encouraged both children to taste the food. Soon, each child held a life in their eyes that had previously been extinguished, eating ravenously as if they had not eaten for days. From the looks of them Mirren thought that it was likely that they had not.
"Where's Mama?" The small girl asked and Eowyn stepped forward, hushing her as she wrapped a warm blanket around her shoulders. Legolas retreated to stand by Aragorn and make room for the King's niece at the table. Mirren felt his loss but did not stop helping at the feel of it.
"They had no warning. They were unarmed. Now the Wild-Men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree." Eowyn reported, anger evident in her eyes.
Mirren realised that Théoden had been sitting at his throne, head in hand as he watched the weakness of his people.
"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash." Gandalf spoke from the King's side. He had taken on the role of Théoden's council. Advising him, in place of Grima who had only leeched Saruman's orders into his ear. "All the more potent for he is driven now by fear of Sauron... Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children… You must fight!"
"You have two thousand good men riding North as we speak. Eomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king." Aragorn suggested. He had taken a seat on the opposite side of the hall, smoking slowly as he listened with Legolas and Gimli by his side.
Standing, the King shook his head, "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now... Eomer cannot help us." Théoden looked first to Gandalf and then to Aragorn, "I know what it is you want of me...but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."
"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not."
The Ranger's words echoed loudly around the hall, challenging the King's decision.
"When last I looked...Théoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan." The bearded man responded.
Gimli loudly finished his drink in the silence that followed, burping loudly before ducking his head into his empty mug in embarrassment. Mirren simply rolled her eyes. Another silent second passed.
"Then what is the king's decision?" Gandalf asked lowly.
For a moment the King hesitated, looking towards the children who had sat hungry in his hall. "At dawn…we will ride for Helm's Deep."