Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not a bloody thing.
A/N: I. HATE. WRITER'S BLOCK! I am so sorry that it took me so long, and I'm sorry that this is so short, but it's something, right?
Chapter 7: Tidings
I wouldn't have sold myself short,
I wouldn't have kept my eyes on the ground
If I had've known my invisibility
would not make a difference.
-Alanis Morissette
The afternoon sun dipped beneath the horizon as a lone messenger rode across the fields of Rohan. He had ridden far, and looked eagerly forward to the hospitality of Meduseld.
He reached the gates of the palace, and the guards let him in. When he reached the main hall, he was not surprised at the gasps and murmers of the various courtiers-elves were not usually seen in Rohan. The king's face remained stoic, however; and his face did not change until he read the letter the elf had brought:
To Lord Éomer, King of Rohan:
Greetings from Mirkwood. I will not bother with polite formalities-I seek to know only one thing: Have you heard tidings from your sister, the lady Éowyn?
Six moons ago she dwealt in my home here in Mirkwood. Five moons ago she abruptly departed, I know not to where, and we have had no word from her since. I greatly desire speech with her; if she dwells with you, will you not beseech her to at least send me word of her safety? I have waited five months for word from her, and she has sent me nothing. I can wait no longer; I must know of her whereabouts. If she has not returned home yet, than I must implore you to aid me in searching for her. I am fearful that she hath come across some evil fate, and even if she refuses to speak to me or send a message, it would ease my mind to know of her safety.
Yours,
Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood
Éomer's stoic face was at once alight with expression. He sprang to his feet with a cry: Joyous be this day! People of Rohan, after waiting over a year for news of our princess, the Lady Éowyn, we have at last received tidings! A company of fifteen riders, meet me immediately at the gates with enough to carry you for a long journey; squire, ready my horse and traveling gear. The king turned to the message-bearer, grasping his hand heartily, with tears in his eyes. Words cannot tell how joyous your message is to our entire country, great friend. Bring this message to your prince: Though the lady Éowyn has not returned, your tidings bring Rohan great joy. We are riding north at once to search for her, and we thank you a thousand times for your happy news of Éowyn's whereabouts.' Get a meal and a good night's rest under your belt, and then go, with haste.