A/N- okay, I finished the Road to Isengard chapter and started Flotsam and Jetsam. That's good enough. There are some AU changes in this chapter, though. I can't believe I'm on Chapter Ten already…last time I went to write a chapter I thought I was writing chapter five! I'm losing it! HELP! Maybe school will whip me into shape (don't make me go! PLEASE! Don't make me go!). Yeah, right.
~Chapter Ten
"Miss?" Emyn's timid voice came from the door. I lifted my head off the pillow to look at her through bleary eyes.
"Yes, Emyn?" I asked. My voice was tired and shaky. A concerned look crossed Emyn's features as she leaned slightly on the doorknob, her head cocked to the side. I felt a sudden need to talk to a friend, who would keep whatever I said in the closest confidence.
"I just needed to relay a message to you," Emyn said. "You're father wants to leave for Rohan in an hour. I packed all your bags, but maybe you need to freshen up," she continued, looking sympathetically at my tear-streaked face.
"Sit down, Emyn," I said, sitting upright on my bed. Emyn cautiously sat next to me.
"What is it, Miss?"
"Please, call me Niphredil."
"Alright."
I could tell that Emyn was confused at the situation. I smiled shakily at her. "I just need a friend, Emyn, don't worry. I would talk to El- Celebrían, but she thinks that marriage is a blessing." I began. Emyn nodded. "I don't want to be married," I said, curling my knees up to my chest.
"Is anything I say here going to be repeated to your father?" asked Emyn, who looked worried. I shook my head.
"Of course not. I won't tell him a thing."
"All right." Emyn said, shifting uncomfortably and looking around the room, as if checking for spies. "I don't think arranged marriage is a good idea, even in these times. Does your father, the honorable Celeborn, not know that Elves, or even Men, can die of a broken heart? What if this Man of Rohan is already in love?" Emyn said. "As you are, miss," she said more quietly.
I looked at her. Emyn shrunk from my gaze, afraid. "How did you know?" I whispered. Emyn's brows drew together, and she folded into herself, looking down shamefully.
"I…well, it is quite obvious," Emyn said, trying to back away from me even as she sat. "I'm sorry," she whispered. I exhaled and closed my eyes, tilting my head back. A bird sang outside.
"It's alright, Emyn, don't be afraid," I said, bringing my head aright and opening my eyes. "I am not mad." Emyn smiled. "And, as for my father," I said, looking out the window, "I don't know if a broken heart has occurred to him. He has much on his mind."
"But love is never far from the mind of an Elf," Emyn pressed. "Love is the center of our world."
"Maybe your world, Emyn," I said, smiling sadly, "but a King's world is different."
Emyn thought about this for a moment, and finally she rose from where she sat and walked to the door. She smiled at me and said, "I have duties to attend to in other places," she said. "I hope you are comforted soon, and your broken heart full amends." She closed the door quietly and I was left for the remainder of the hour in my room, which became increasingly oppressive and humid as the minutes wore on.
~~~
"Father, I do not think"-
"This isn't for you to think about, Niphredil, this is for you to do my bidding as my daughter!"
"Are you just going to marry me off to the first man you see?" I said, stopping in my tracks. My father walked on, leading his big white steed. Huffing, I swung up onto Cerin as he mounted the white stallion. "Father, please listen to me!"
"Why?" he asked, not even turning around on his horse to look at me. He kicked the horse lightly in the side and the stallion swung into a full gallop. Emyn, a manservant, and I followed hurriedly on our horses, piled with my bags and things. "You are only an Elf-maiden," Celeborn continued. "The choice does not belong to you."
"But what if there is no man there? What if the king's son has been killed in oppositions of Isengard? What if"-
"Then we will continue on to Minas Tirith," Celeborn said abruptly.
"Master," Emyn said timidly. "Master, if you would hear my opinion"-
"No more questions!" Celeborn said, trying to force his horse to go faster. Cerin followed immediately, but Emyn and the manservant fell behind a bit. We raced southwards, coming to a river the next day.
"We will camp here tonight," Celeborn said. His servant pitched four tents and Emyn built a small, rather pathetic fire. But it was not Emyn's fault, for she was a housemaid and I could have done no better than she. I sat in the shadows, staring into the flames, my fingers caressing the wood of a stowaway- my bow. I could not part with it when leaving home and had stashed it in one of my clothes-bags. My gaze stole to the left, where my father sat in the mouth of his tent, half of his face cast in shadow. He would not approve of the bow. I folded the flap of the bag over the emerging point of the bow to hide it from him.
Two days later we crossed the River Entwash. I shaded my keen eyes from the sun for a moment to peer into the distance. The tips of the trees of Fanghorn emerged over the peak of a nearby hill. I squinted and fancied a movement, but I was sure that it was a trick of the light. The Ents had long since been pushed to the back of the minds of Elves until they were all but forgotten, only remembered in songs of old.
Later on, the tips of the mountains appeared over the hills, and we galloped towards them, camping in the middle of a field studded with Simbelmynë flowers. The next day, we came to Edoras.
The armored men sprang up at the sight of us. My father rode up to them and spoke to them, in a language that I could piece together quite capably because I had been learned in many languages, including the tongue of Riddermark. One of the golden-haired soldiers went inside for a moment, and then came out a while later. "Leave any weapon you possess at the door," he said with a warning look, leading us inside.
The doorward stepped forward and introduced himself as Hàma. He bid us to leave our weapons with him. My father drew out his Elf-knife and laid it on the ground. Hàma looked at the rest of us. The manservant lay down a dagger.
"What of the maidens?" Hàma said. Celeborn shook his head.
"My daughter does not carry any weapons. I was about to correct him, my hand creeping towards the bow in my bag, but then I stopped. If I handed the bow to the doorward, I would be let inside. If I didn't, I would be let inside also, but what if someone found it? It would jeopardize the whole point of being there in Edoras.
Or, did I want to jeopardize it? I stopped reaching for it. Hàma gave me a curious look.
"I carry no weapon," I said, my hand resting by my side. Hàma opened the door, his eyes following us in.
~~~
We rode through the city to Meduseld, where Théoden son of Thengel, the Lord of the Mark of Rohan, dwelt. The guards swung the large doors open and we stepped into a dim hall. Pillars ran down the two sides, and tapestries hung from the ceiling, reaching down to engraved floor. An old man sat in a throne at the head of the hall. Behind him was a tall woman, in white, with long golden hair. She reminded me very much of my mother in her composure. The man was very old, and, from his slumped position in the throne, seemed as a Halfling. His long, braided white hair almost brushed the hem of his ermine robe, and his beard folded onto his legs.
"Welcome, Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien." The old man said, rising slightly in his chair. The white woman strode forward to assist him as he balanced himself on his staff with one frail hand. I startled at these signs of age, for I was an Elf, raised among the forever young. I studied the lines in the man's face, and the crinkles around the corners of his eyes and mouth. His veins shone in his transparent hands, and his bony fingers curled around the domed top of the staff. "Rare, it is, that the Elves journey out of the Golden Wood," the man continued.
"Théoden son of Thengel, Lord of the Mark of Rohan," Celeborn said, bowing slightly. "Thank you for your hospitality."
"Too much hospitality, if it were to me," said a voice. A man stepped out from behind one of the golden pillars. I stepped back, repulsed by the site of him. His skin was whiter than the woman's robe, in contrast to his oily black hair. Indeed, his voice was oily in itself. He was dressed in fine clothes; no doubt he was one of the king's trusted friends. I couldn't imagine living in the same city with this man. His thin lips curled into a sneer as he looked at my father, and then at me, and then his gaze passed to Emyn and my father's servant. "Ah," he said, raising his brows, "the foul offspring of the Sorceress of the Wood."
I stepped forward, begging to differ, my fingers itching for my trusty bow to send an arrow through his throat. Someone grabbed my arm and held it, tight, drawing my back. Looking over my shoulder, I saw that it was Emyn. She was looking cautiously at my father, who was sending daggers at me with his eyes. I remembered the day in the Wood- the day I had met Legolas. I had held a bow then, when it was not needed.
"Step back, Gríma," Théoden ordered, raising his hand. Gríma stepped back, and continued glaring at us. "We wish to be friends of those of Lórien," he continued. "Which is why you are here," he stated. The woman's eyes widened a bit at this last.
"To marry off my daughter, honorable Théoden," my father said. Théoden nodded and tapped his fingernails on the staff, leaning back in his throne.
"There are many men here in Rohan, many great warriors," Théoden said, staring off and thinking. "Éowyn," he said suddenly to the woman, "please show Celeborn's daughter her room, Celeborn and I must counsel, in private." Théoden looked at Gríma, who backed out of the hall. Éowyn gestured at me with her arm and Emyn and I followed her out of Meduseld, feeling quite alone.