Author's Note--Because she saw something right from the start that I'd just begun thinking of as a possibility--this chapter is for Caerulea.
The next morning I slept in, for Lord Hurin had told me my services would no longer be required after I had taken that extra watch, had thanked me for all my help, and commanded me to go forth and have some fun for a change. I had gone to bed in the small hours of the morning, after talking to the Northern Ranger captain, and my dreams had been restless in the extreme, filled with images of my being married off to some man who was only doing the King a favor. So when the dawn's first light crept into my room and fell upon my eyelids, I burrowed down beneath the covers, and stayed there. And when the knock came at the door, sometime after noon, I muttered some of Mablung's favorite Rohirrim curses, and tried to ignore it.
But the knock came again, soft, persistent. "Go away!" I called out. "I'm trying to sleep here." It continued, and cursing, I rolled out of bed, quickly pulled on a pair of breeches and one of my older shirts, and stomped to the door.
"If that's you, Lorend, I'll take your manhood myself, and save the poor young widows of Gondor!" I snarled, flinging the door open.
A handsome prince stood in the doorway. Imrahil of Dol Amroth, combed and polished and perfect in dark blue leather, cocked his head to one side in the same way his nephew often did, and smiled at me. An esquire behind him, clad in his livery, politely looked away.
"Generally, I'm all for saving poor young widows, " he commented, "But I'd like to keep my manhood intact, if it's all the same to you, Lady Hethlin. I remembered me that I'd promised you a discussion of the debt my house owes yours, and thought that this might be a good time. I see that oh....half an hour hence might be a better one? I have lunch, and horses. Might I attend upon you then?"
"Of course, my lord Prince." I replied feebly. He smiled, his eyes twinkling.
"I apologize for disturbing what was no doubt, a well-earned rest. You are kind to indulge me. In half an hour's time, then." He inclined his head politely, I gave him a bow, and he moved off down the hall. I closed my door, leaned back against it for a moment and groaned. Then I scampered over to the wash-stand, poured some water into the basin, and regarded my reflection--which was every bit as bad as I had feared. Sleep-puffy features, circles under the eyes and white hair flying every which way. Obviously, serious actions had to be taken.
After creeping down the hall to relieve my self, I returned to my room and applied cold water and soap in the most ruthless, speedy cat-bath in the history of Middle-Earth. I reserved some of the clean water for my hair brush, and attacked my unruly locks without mercy. Eventually, I was able to bring them around to some semblance of order--save for the ridiculous frill of shorter hair sticking out the back of my head, about which nothing could be done. I then clothed myself in the best of my three sets of clothing. The tunic, coincedentally, happened to be dark blue. The vigorous use of a dirty shirt to buff my boots completed my toilette. About five minutes after that, the Prince returned.
Ever the soul of politeness, he did not comment upon my much improved appearance, he merely thanked me once more for accompanying him, and said that it looked to be beautiful weather for a ride. We made our way down to the courtyard, and found two horses, his great grey charger, and to my surprised pleasure, the dark bay I'd ridden before, both groomed within an inch of their lives, the grey with a blue saddlecloth, the bay with a green, and what looked to be brand new tack upon him. I took his bridle from the esquire, and he nudged and lipped at me for treats.
"I'm sorry lad, I don't have any breakfast to give you today. Would that I did! I owe you still for the retreat!" Prince Imrahil opened a pouch at his belt, gave me a hard roll and took one out for his own mount as well. The bay accepted it happily, mouthing while I checked my girth and the length of my stirrups, and swung up.
"Ah ha! I see that it is you, my lord Prince, who are responsible for making him into such a bread bandit!"
"Yes, I fear I do overindulge them a bit," he admitted as he mounted himself. "But they serve us so well and appreciate it so much." He dismissed his esquire with a polite word, and we rode out of the courtyard, passing slowly through the throngs of finely dressed people moving in and out. Court was in session once more today. I felt a moment's sympathy for the King, a Ranger forced to sit within doors upon a hard throne on such a lovely spring day.
"You, my lord, are a soft touch." I chided the Prince.
"Absolutely rotten," he agreed with a smile. "Have you forgiven me for waking you yet?"
I stroked the satin neck beneath me, and lifted my face to the sun. "Oh yes."
"Good." He said nothing more for a long while. We were almost out of the City when it occured to me--we had no escort, no bannerman, no herald clearing the way. There was not even an insignia on his saddlecloth. I looked at him suspiciously.
"Prince Imrahil, are you playing truant?" He threw his head back and laughed, but then regarded me with the utmost seriousness.
"I prefer to think of it as giving my three man-grown sons the opportunity to experience governence on a kingdom level without my direct supervision."
"Right. Truant it is." He laughed again. "You realize they're going to come looking for you, and they'll think I abducted you. We Rangers do that sort of thing all the time."
He raised his eyebrows, and nodded acknowlegement of his peril. "So I've heard. If the sons of Elrond are not safe, can anyone truly be said to be so? But fear not lady--I will attest to your innocence, should we be accosted."
We passed through the Gate, or more correctly, where the Gate would be when it was rebuilt again (and negotiations were already underway with the Dwarves), turned right, and headed away from the road, and out into the Pelennor towards the River. We picked our way through the sizeable tent city that had sprung up around the Gate, until we reached the untenanted regions. Even then, we did not lift the horses out of a walk--though much restoration work had been done already, the ground was still treacherous in places with ditches and fissures and holes, the remains of timbers and even armor and weapons of the Enemy. Nevertheless, I was glad we went that way, instead of down the road. I had no desire to go anywhere near the hill, or the shattered ruins of the Causeway Forts.
Eventually, the Prince found a site that suited him, a hillock that was high enough to overlook the Rammas and gave a good view of the river. We stopped, loosened girths, removed bridles, and hobbled the horses, then he undid a blanket from the back of his saddle, spread it out, and began to pull food from a pair of capacious saddlebags. I had to laugh when he pulled out a metal platter with the arms of Dol Amroth upon it, followed by a paper package, that when opened, contained a cold roast chicken.
"Remind me to thank the Steward for taking the time, amidst all his other pressing business, to insure that the supply of chickens was restored." His voice was utterly deadpan, but his eyes were twinkling again. With a weird sense of unreality, I helped him with the rest of it--fine white bread, a couple of sorts of cheeses, some sausage, strawberries, and wine, all with napkins and dishes blazoned with the swan ship. I was having a picnic, of all things, with the man who was the second highest power in the land, after the King himself.
He was a man old enough to have four grown children of my age and older, but in him the blood of Numenor ran true. There was only the occaisional silver strand in his black hair and his face and body were those of a much younger man. But his eyes were old, old with both experience, and the horrors of war recently endured, and I realized that though he might be somewhat more resilient than his nephew, he nonetheless had suffered in this war as well.
Drawing his belt knife, he portioned the chicken, and sliced the other food. We began to eat and drink, he speaking of inconsequentialities, some funny stories from the courts that had taken place over the last few days. For a Prince, he was an incredibly easy person to be with, and his humor was never at someone else's expense. I tentatively contributed some humorous things that had happened on my watches during the celebration, and he laughed in all the right places. After a time, the warmth of the sun, and the food and wine in my belly all conspired to relax me and help me forget the exalted rank of the man next to me.
If it seems peculiar that I should be intimidated by the Lord of Dol Amroth, and not by the Steward of Gondor, the answer is a simple one. I hadn't lain in ditches for three years with Prince Imrahil, I didn't know the sound of his snore in the depths of the night (and Faramir did snore, albeit softly, now and again, though he always denied it), we hadn't been in battle together countless times, he hadn't nursed me through a very intimate and uncomfortable illness. But he was doing his best to put me at ease.
Finishing a strawberry, he lay back on the blanket, stretched and yawned, then pointed upward.
"That one looks like a Mumak, don't you think?"
"My lord?"
"That cloud there--it looks like a Mumak."
The sight of one of the mightiest warriors in the kingdom playing a child's game undid me, and I found myself, to my horror, giggling. He smiled in response, put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.
"Well, that's better. Perhaps we can talk plainly now, you and I. I think you know how I feel about my nephew. And I think I know how you feel about him."
"My lord, I don't know where you got the idea--"
"--I got the idea on the Pelennor, my child. I do have eyes. And I'm older than I look. Wiser too, I should hope, though that's not always certain. So tell me truthfully now--do you love him or do you not?"
I drew my knees up defensively, wrapped my arms around them, and set my chin upon them. "Aye, my lord, I do."
"Then in the Valars' name, why haven't you told him? Would you let the Lady of Rohan have him unchallenged?"
"There are reasons, my lord."
"Well, I should like to hear them! For the King would wish to see you happily settled, and, according to him, your bloodline is superior to hers. I mean no slander against the Lady Eowyn, for she is fair, and valorous, and in truth there is some merit to binding the kingdom even closer to Rohan. But I know my nephew well, and I am troubled in my mind over this match. I am not sure if he is truly in love with Eowyn, or simply in love with an idea that happens to be occupying the same space."
"Though I have not known him as long as you, my lord, I do think he truly loves her. I know his moods pretty well, and there is a great light in his eyes when he looks upon her. That is one of the reasons why I've never spoken-- and until last night, when I spoke to a Ranger Captain that knew my father, I knew nothing of my bloodline. I thought I was a commoner. That was another reason."
"That is an honorable position to take. I have heard that you have done much to ease the Lady Eowyn's loneliness in this City. And I am impressed--I can't think of too many people who would have behaved so chivalrously, had they been in your situation. But it's not enough, Hethlin. Unless you give me a reason why I should not, I am very close to asking Aragorn to intervene in this matter, and having him command Faramir to marry you."
I shot to my feet, shocked. "He would not do so! Eomer would be offended!"
Imrahil opened his eyes, rolled up onto an elbow, and looked up at me. "Eomer loves Aragorn, and would, I think, suffer this. Particularly if it were explained that my nephew must wed you to restore your honor. And his. Since he was responsible for dragging you over hill and dale with a troop of Rangers for three years, damaging your reputation, instead of returning you to your kin as he ought to have done."
"There were no kin for him to return me to."
"A technicality. He could have found someone to take you in. And Eomer is not unaware of his sister's fascination with the Lord Aragorn. He may be uneasy about this match as well."
The world lay within my reach, a sparkling bauble but a teasing distance from my straining fingertips.
"Would the Lord Aragorn marry Lady Eowyn if Lord Faramir broke the betrothal?" Would the happiness of two, possibly three people justify the end of the House of Mardil? I wondered. For Eowyn would be happy with Aragorn, and I would be happy with Faramir, and I thought I might even be able to make him happy with me eventually--once he got over his feeling of betrayal.
"No. The King is already betrothed to someone else." So Eowyn would end up alone if this took place. So much for that idea. I sighed, and let the world go. Two would be happy, and the House of Mardil preserved.
"My lord, I did not speak to your nephew because I am barren." That came out rather baldly, but I was hurting too badly to couch it any more politely.
Comprehension rose in the Prince's eyes, and pity too. He gestured that I should sit back down beside him, and I belatedly remembered that one's head was never supposed to be above royalty's unless one was royalty oneself. I dropped rather gracelessly back down onto the blanket.
"Do you know this for certain? And how?"
"My lord, I was around the corner of the barn, watering this fellow here, the day Faramir told you how I became a Ranger. So I know you know what happened to me. But you don't know all of it. The orcs were very savage and cruel. I was torn up quite a bit, both ....inside and out. I bear the scars still, and am not very pretty from the neck down. Then the wounds festered, and I was sick for a long while. Lord Faramir cared for me himself, with his own two hands."
"When I had recovered somewhat, and told him I wanted to be a Ranger, he insisted on taking me to Minas Tirith to the Houses of Healing, to make sure that I was healthy enough to fight. The healers there pronounced me well enough, but said that between the fever and the damage, I would never be able to bear children."
"So that is another reason I have never spoken to Lord Faramir. That, and the fact that he knows what my body looks like, and has never shown the slightest interest in me in that way. I expect I repulse him. And even if I didn't, for a long time, I was not entirely sure I could bear to be touched as a man touches a woman." I paused for a moment, rather horrendously embarrassed, but Imrahil gave me a sympathetic look, and indicated that I should continue.
"Now that some time has passed, I have...hope that in time I might be able to work my way through this. I have never minded when Faramir has laid a hand upon me, but he has always been most polite and impersonal. He has had to be, among the men." I blushed a little. "I have dreamed of him being otherwise, but I do not know what would happen, should I try to.... bed with him. As things now stand, I do know that I cannot marry him, or anyone." I shook myself in sudden, embarrassed, irritation. "What I don't know is why I'm telling you all of this!"
"You're telling me because I asked you to speak truthfully, and you are a person of honor. You may rely upon mine that I shall not bandy this abroad." He sat up and looked keenly at me, and the compassion and pity in his eyes started mine to prickling and stinging, and I became angry with it as well.
"Don't do that, my lord prince! You have no call to feel sorry for me! I do well enough for myself. I have friends, and my life is very full. Save your pity for those who truly need it."
The compassion and pity were joined by something that might have been respect. He nodded slowly. "Very well, child. Though I will say the blood of Numenor runs deep and true in you! The King was quite impressed--he said you were most perceptive."
"I've never met the King, my lord."
"Oh yes, you did. Just last night. In the gardens at the Houses of Healing."
"That was the KING? The Ranger Captain?" Imrahil nodded, smiling. All of the blood left my face, and the Prince, concerned, reached for my arm.
"Are you all right?"
"No, my lord. Do you have your sword with you?"
"Yes."
"Then just slay me, slay me now, and get it over with!"
"Whatever for?"
"Because he probably will, the way I spoke to him!"
"Come now, surely it couldn't have been that bad." That wretched twinkle was back in his eyes again.
I moaned. "Oh, you have no idea! He told me why the Dunedain didn't like my father, and I said that if they didn't like him because of something his forefather did 1500 years ago, then they ought not to like Aragorn either, because of what Isildur did."
Imrahil chuckled. "Yes, I know. He was most taken aback, when he recounted it to me. Which was quite entertaining, for it's very seldom that one sees Aragorn at a loss for words. And he said you had told him you did not wish to wed, though you'd given him no reason why."
"Why should I? I didn't know he was the King, and I don't go talking about my situation to every stranger who asks on the street."
"Of course. And now that you've told me, I do agree with you." I sighed and bowed my head. "Which is a shame," he continued, "for I think you'd be better for Faramir than she is."
I looked at him surprised, and he sat back up the rest of the way, and began gathering up the remnants of our meal.
"My third son, Amrothos, is a scholar and a musician and an engineer. He is not martial in the least, other than having an interest in seige equipment, and I have never asked that he become so against his truer nature. One more warrior in what I deemed at the time to be a doomed fight against the Enemy would not have turned the tide, and I felt that he would be done incalculable harm had he been forced to go to war. Faramir is another such one, but by virtue of his position, and his father's inclination, he was forced to go against his natural disposition and become a warrior. That he performed as magnificently as he did is a great credit to him, and that he finished the war sane is a great credit to all of the friends who surrounded him and supported him. I owe quite a debt to the Rangers of Ithilien, you not the least." I blushed yet again. It was becoming something of a habit.
"But I do wonder," he continued, as he began stuffing items back into the saddlebags, "if Faramir hasn't taken some lasting harm from all this, something that may turn up years from now. It does happen somethimes. And if and when it happens, I would prefer that his wife be one who understood what he had been through. Though the Lady Eowyn slew the Captain of the Nazgul, that was but one battle. You were with him through most of the latter part of his long campaign. And I think you would not think the less of him, should some shadow fall upon him from that time."
"No, my lord." I said quietly. "I would not. He has always been most patient with my weaknesses."
"Weaknesses? You seem to have very few of them, from what I've seen."
"I do not see how you can say that, my lord. You've seen me cry like a baby in battle."
"I've seen you cry like a baby after a fight in which you were overmatched, and expected to die, yet still managed to prevail by sheer raw nerve. I'd have been crying too."
"I doubt that, my lord." He offered me my goblet, in which some wine still remained.
"Drink up, so that I may pack. All right, I may not be much inclined to cry these days," he conceded, "But when I was as young as you are--certainly." I gulped the wine down, and gave him the cup, which he placed in the saddlebag.
"Now, I am going to give you some information which is not to be bandied about, and I'm giving it to you only because you need it in order for us to continue our discussion. Have I your word that you will not reveal it to anyone--most particularly Faramir?"
"Of course, my lord prince."
"Very good. At court tomorrow, the King intends to make Faramir the Prince of Ithilien. There will be two Princes of the realm, co-equal in rank."
"Oh, my lord," I breathed, "that is wonderful! And so deserved! Mablung always used to say he was a prince in all but name."
"Ah yes, Mablung does have a rather pithy way of cutting right to the heart of the matter, doesn't he?" I realized that Imrahil probably knew Mablung rather well by now, after the battle at the Black Gate, and nodded.
"The reason I am telling you this, is I would like to ask you a question. Will you be able to serve him as the Ranger Captain of Northern Ithilien, if he is living in Emyn Arnyn in blissful domestic happiness with his wife and children? That's somewhat different from making an occaisional report to him as Steward in Minas Tirith. If I know Faramir, he will be out and about constantly, and you would see much of him. Could you bear that?"
"I will have to, won't I?" I said simply. "I will bear whatever I must, my lord." He looked into my eyes for a moment and nodded.
"I will lend my voice to Faramir's then, to convince Aragorn he should give you the captaincy. Now--onto more cheerful matters. As but a small part of the payment my House owes yours--the horse is yours."
"My lord?"
"The horse is yours, and his equipage. Or any other of mine you might like better, not excepting my own. Though I thought the bay did well enough for you before."
"Oh, my lord prince!" I got to my feet, tears starting in my eyes, and moved to the dark bay, stroking his neck. "I like him very well!"
The Prince grinned boyishly. "Well, I did ask Faramir what you should like, and he did say a horse would please you above all else. He is special horse, too. You will have noticed that almost all of my horses are gray?" I nodded. "I prefer them such, so as to make a good matched cavalry troop, and after years and years of selection, they breed true most of the time."
"Only occasionally is a black or dark bay foaled, and they are considered a sign of good fortune. That's his name, by the way--Fortune. Since the two of you are so unusual, and special, it seems only fitting that he be yours." I rested my forehead against his soft neck for a moment, temporarily overwhelmed. Imrahil watched me with a kind smile. After a moment, I straightened, and turned to him.
"Well, if nothing else, I shall certainly be the best equipped Ranger in Ithilien! With such a fine horse--and a new saddle and bridle! And Lord Elrohir gave me his bow last night!" Imrahil whistled in surprise.
"An Elven bow! Well, that settles it! We must see that you become a Captain, lest your superior officer expire of jealousy because of your equipage!" Once again, that wretched giggle made itself known. Imrahil laughed in response, and turned to place the packed saddlebags upon his horse. Once he had done so, I assisted him with folding and tieing the blanket. Then we unhobbled the horses, bridled them, tightened our girths, and mounted.
"I fear I must part company with you now, Lady Hethlin," the Prince said to me. "Unfortunately, I may only play truant for so long. Do you know where my house is located in the second circle?" I nodded.
"I escorted your family there when they arrived, my lord prince. They seemed very nice, except they were impatient at Prince Amrothos because he wanted to examine the Gate."
The Prince shook his head. "That's Amrothos! I believe he's still working on that particular project. I shall have to make sure he doesn't offend the Dwarven engineers when they arrive. And I'm glad you liked my family. What I meant to say, however, was that you should feel free to stable your horse in my stables whenever you are in the City. I have given orders to my master of horse to that effect, and my house is always open, whether I am in the City or not." My eyes widened at his generosity, for it was true I had had a momentary worry in all my joy about how I would care for Fortune properly, at least until my status was officially confirmed. I bowed to the Prince.
"You are very kind, my lord Prince."
"It's a poor gift that gives the recipient worry and expense," Imrahil replied. "I do naught here but what I should. And I imagine," and here the boyish grin flashed again, "that I can afford his bread bill somewhat better than you can! Good day, Captain!"
"Good day, my lord Prince!" I bowed in the saddle, and he nodded to me graciously, and turned his mount back towards the City. But since he'd been right about it being a beautiful day for riding, I rode Fortune carefully over the Pelennor for a while, and eventually to the Ranger camp, where I showed him off to much admiration, and it was discovered that he not only liked bread, he would lap up beer if given some in a bowl. This trait gave him the ultimate Ithilien Ranger seal of approval. We returned after dark, and on the well-paved road, I let him show me some speed. I then spent a long time in the stables of Dol Amroth, grooming him and cleaning and oiling my new tack, and went to bed a deliriously happy girl, my worries about the future temporarily banished, to dream of flying and the wind in my face.
Author's Equine Note--Tolkein appears to have a thing about grey horses. Shadowfax and all the horses in Eomer's troop are grey, including Arod and Hasufel. Aragorn's horse, Roheryn, brought down from the north, is grey. The Swan Knights as they ride to Minas Tirith, are described as being mounted on grey horses--seven hundred of them! There is a mention of black horses amongst the Rohirrim--that Sauron's minions steal them, for obvious reasons. And the hobbit's ponies are apparently various colors. But most everything else is grey.
The White Stallions of Lipizza are actually greys, almost all of them. But very, very occaisionally, a dark bay or black foal will be born, and it is considered lucky. I have a video that shows one of these horses. I took this tendency, and applied it to Imrahil's horses. (My horse, Mira, is half Lipizzan.)
The next morning I slept in, for Lord Hurin had told me my services would no longer be required after I had taken that extra watch, had thanked me for all my help, and commanded me to go forth and have some fun for a change. I had gone to bed in the small hours of the morning, after talking to the Northern Ranger captain, and my dreams had been restless in the extreme, filled with images of my being married off to some man who was only doing the King a favor. So when the dawn's first light crept into my room and fell upon my eyelids, I burrowed down beneath the covers, and stayed there. And when the knock came at the door, sometime after noon, I muttered some of Mablung's favorite Rohirrim curses, and tried to ignore it.
But the knock came again, soft, persistent. "Go away!" I called out. "I'm trying to sleep here." It continued, and cursing, I rolled out of bed, quickly pulled on a pair of breeches and one of my older shirts, and stomped to the door.
"If that's you, Lorend, I'll take your manhood myself, and save the poor young widows of Gondor!" I snarled, flinging the door open.
A handsome prince stood in the doorway. Imrahil of Dol Amroth, combed and polished and perfect in dark blue leather, cocked his head to one side in the same way his nephew often did, and smiled at me. An esquire behind him, clad in his livery, politely looked away.
"Generally, I'm all for saving poor young widows, " he commented, "But I'd like to keep my manhood intact, if it's all the same to you, Lady Hethlin. I remembered me that I'd promised you a discussion of the debt my house owes yours, and thought that this might be a good time. I see that oh....half an hour hence might be a better one? I have lunch, and horses. Might I attend upon you then?"
"Of course, my lord Prince." I replied feebly. He smiled, his eyes twinkling.
"I apologize for disturbing what was no doubt, a well-earned rest. You are kind to indulge me. In half an hour's time, then." He inclined his head politely, I gave him a bow, and he moved off down the hall. I closed my door, leaned back against it for a moment and groaned. Then I scampered over to the wash-stand, poured some water into the basin, and regarded my reflection--which was every bit as bad as I had feared. Sleep-puffy features, circles under the eyes and white hair flying every which way. Obviously, serious actions had to be taken.
After creeping down the hall to relieve my self, I returned to my room and applied cold water and soap in the most ruthless, speedy cat-bath in the history of Middle-Earth. I reserved some of the clean water for my hair brush, and attacked my unruly locks without mercy. Eventually, I was able to bring them around to some semblance of order--save for the ridiculous frill of shorter hair sticking out the back of my head, about which nothing could be done. I then clothed myself in the best of my three sets of clothing. The tunic, coincedentally, happened to be dark blue. The vigorous use of a dirty shirt to buff my boots completed my toilette. About five minutes after that, the Prince returned.
Ever the soul of politeness, he did not comment upon my much improved appearance, he merely thanked me once more for accompanying him, and said that it looked to be beautiful weather for a ride. We made our way down to the courtyard, and found two horses, his great grey charger, and to my surprised pleasure, the dark bay I'd ridden before, both groomed within an inch of their lives, the grey with a blue saddlecloth, the bay with a green, and what looked to be brand new tack upon him. I took his bridle from the esquire, and he nudged and lipped at me for treats.
"I'm sorry lad, I don't have any breakfast to give you today. Would that I did! I owe you still for the retreat!" Prince Imrahil opened a pouch at his belt, gave me a hard roll and took one out for his own mount as well. The bay accepted it happily, mouthing while I checked my girth and the length of my stirrups, and swung up.
"Ah ha! I see that it is you, my lord Prince, who are responsible for making him into such a bread bandit!"
"Yes, I fear I do overindulge them a bit," he admitted as he mounted himself. "But they serve us so well and appreciate it so much." He dismissed his esquire with a polite word, and we rode out of the courtyard, passing slowly through the throngs of finely dressed people moving in and out. Court was in session once more today. I felt a moment's sympathy for the King, a Ranger forced to sit within doors upon a hard throne on such a lovely spring day.
"You, my lord, are a soft touch." I chided the Prince.
"Absolutely rotten," he agreed with a smile. "Have you forgiven me for waking you yet?"
I stroked the satin neck beneath me, and lifted my face to the sun. "Oh yes."
"Good." He said nothing more for a long while. We were almost out of the City when it occured to me--we had no escort, no bannerman, no herald clearing the way. There was not even an insignia on his saddlecloth. I looked at him suspiciously.
"Prince Imrahil, are you playing truant?" He threw his head back and laughed, but then regarded me with the utmost seriousness.
"I prefer to think of it as giving my three man-grown sons the opportunity to experience governence on a kingdom level without my direct supervision."
"Right. Truant it is." He laughed again. "You realize they're going to come looking for you, and they'll think I abducted you. We Rangers do that sort of thing all the time."
He raised his eyebrows, and nodded acknowlegement of his peril. "So I've heard. If the sons of Elrond are not safe, can anyone truly be said to be so? But fear not lady--I will attest to your innocence, should we be accosted."
We passed through the Gate, or more correctly, where the Gate would be when it was rebuilt again (and negotiations were already underway with the Dwarves), turned right, and headed away from the road, and out into the Pelennor towards the River. We picked our way through the sizeable tent city that had sprung up around the Gate, until we reached the untenanted regions. Even then, we did not lift the horses out of a walk--though much restoration work had been done already, the ground was still treacherous in places with ditches and fissures and holes, the remains of timbers and even armor and weapons of the Enemy. Nevertheless, I was glad we went that way, instead of down the road. I had no desire to go anywhere near the hill, or the shattered ruins of the Causeway Forts.
Eventually, the Prince found a site that suited him, a hillock that was high enough to overlook the Rammas and gave a good view of the river. We stopped, loosened girths, removed bridles, and hobbled the horses, then he undid a blanket from the back of his saddle, spread it out, and began to pull food from a pair of capacious saddlebags. I had to laugh when he pulled out a metal platter with the arms of Dol Amroth upon it, followed by a paper package, that when opened, contained a cold roast chicken.
"Remind me to thank the Steward for taking the time, amidst all his other pressing business, to insure that the supply of chickens was restored." His voice was utterly deadpan, but his eyes were twinkling again. With a weird sense of unreality, I helped him with the rest of it--fine white bread, a couple of sorts of cheeses, some sausage, strawberries, and wine, all with napkins and dishes blazoned with the swan ship. I was having a picnic, of all things, with the man who was the second highest power in the land, after the King himself.
He was a man old enough to have four grown children of my age and older, but in him the blood of Numenor ran true. There was only the occaisional silver strand in his black hair and his face and body were those of a much younger man. But his eyes were old, old with both experience, and the horrors of war recently endured, and I realized that though he might be somewhat more resilient than his nephew, he nonetheless had suffered in this war as well.
Drawing his belt knife, he portioned the chicken, and sliced the other food. We began to eat and drink, he speaking of inconsequentialities, some funny stories from the courts that had taken place over the last few days. For a Prince, he was an incredibly easy person to be with, and his humor was never at someone else's expense. I tentatively contributed some humorous things that had happened on my watches during the celebration, and he laughed in all the right places. After a time, the warmth of the sun, and the food and wine in my belly all conspired to relax me and help me forget the exalted rank of the man next to me.
If it seems peculiar that I should be intimidated by the Lord of Dol Amroth, and not by the Steward of Gondor, the answer is a simple one. I hadn't lain in ditches for three years with Prince Imrahil, I didn't know the sound of his snore in the depths of the night (and Faramir did snore, albeit softly, now and again, though he always denied it), we hadn't been in battle together countless times, he hadn't nursed me through a very intimate and uncomfortable illness. But he was doing his best to put me at ease.
Finishing a strawberry, he lay back on the blanket, stretched and yawned, then pointed upward.
"That one looks like a Mumak, don't you think?"
"My lord?"
"That cloud there--it looks like a Mumak."
The sight of one of the mightiest warriors in the kingdom playing a child's game undid me, and I found myself, to my horror, giggling. He smiled in response, put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.
"Well, that's better. Perhaps we can talk plainly now, you and I. I think you know how I feel about my nephew. And I think I know how you feel about him."
"My lord, I don't know where you got the idea--"
"--I got the idea on the Pelennor, my child. I do have eyes. And I'm older than I look. Wiser too, I should hope, though that's not always certain. So tell me truthfully now--do you love him or do you not?"
I drew my knees up defensively, wrapped my arms around them, and set my chin upon them. "Aye, my lord, I do."
"Then in the Valars' name, why haven't you told him? Would you let the Lady of Rohan have him unchallenged?"
"There are reasons, my lord."
"Well, I should like to hear them! For the King would wish to see you happily settled, and, according to him, your bloodline is superior to hers. I mean no slander against the Lady Eowyn, for she is fair, and valorous, and in truth there is some merit to binding the kingdom even closer to Rohan. But I know my nephew well, and I am troubled in my mind over this match. I am not sure if he is truly in love with Eowyn, or simply in love with an idea that happens to be occupying the same space."
"Though I have not known him as long as you, my lord, I do think he truly loves her. I know his moods pretty well, and there is a great light in his eyes when he looks upon her. That is one of the reasons why I've never spoken-- and until last night, when I spoke to a Ranger Captain that knew my father, I knew nothing of my bloodline. I thought I was a commoner. That was another reason."
"That is an honorable position to take. I have heard that you have done much to ease the Lady Eowyn's loneliness in this City. And I am impressed--I can't think of too many people who would have behaved so chivalrously, had they been in your situation. But it's not enough, Hethlin. Unless you give me a reason why I should not, I am very close to asking Aragorn to intervene in this matter, and having him command Faramir to marry you."
I shot to my feet, shocked. "He would not do so! Eomer would be offended!"
Imrahil opened his eyes, rolled up onto an elbow, and looked up at me. "Eomer loves Aragorn, and would, I think, suffer this. Particularly if it were explained that my nephew must wed you to restore your honor. And his. Since he was responsible for dragging you over hill and dale with a troop of Rangers for three years, damaging your reputation, instead of returning you to your kin as he ought to have done."
"There were no kin for him to return me to."
"A technicality. He could have found someone to take you in. And Eomer is not unaware of his sister's fascination with the Lord Aragorn. He may be uneasy about this match as well."
The world lay within my reach, a sparkling bauble but a teasing distance from my straining fingertips.
"Would the Lord Aragorn marry Lady Eowyn if Lord Faramir broke the betrothal?" Would the happiness of two, possibly three people justify the end of the House of Mardil? I wondered. For Eowyn would be happy with Aragorn, and I would be happy with Faramir, and I thought I might even be able to make him happy with me eventually--once he got over his feeling of betrayal.
"No. The King is already betrothed to someone else." So Eowyn would end up alone if this took place. So much for that idea. I sighed, and let the world go. Two would be happy, and the House of Mardil preserved.
"My lord, I did not speak to your nephew because I am barren." That came out rather baldly, but I was hurting too badly to couch it any more politely.
Comprehension rose in the Prince's eyes, and pity too. He gestured that I should sit back down beside him, and I belatedly remembered that one's head was never supposed to be above royalty's unless one was royalty oneself. I dropped rather gracelessly back down onto the blanket.
"Do you know this for certain? And how?"
"My lord, I was around the corner of the barn, watering this fellow here, the day Faramir told you how I became a Ranger. So I know you know what happened to me. But you don't know all of it. The orcs were very savage and cruel. I was torn up quite a bit, both ....inside and out. I bear the scars still, and am not very pretty from the neck down. Then the wounds festered, and I was sick for a long while. Lord Faramir cared for me himself, with his own two hands."
"When I had recovered somewhat, and told him I wanted to be a Ranger, he insisted on taking me to Minas Tirith to the Houses of Healing, to make sure that I was healthy enough to fight. The healers there pronounced me well enough, but said that between the fever and the damage, I would never be able to bear children."
"So that is another reason I have never spoken to Lord Faramir. That, and the fact that he knows what my body looks like, and has never shown the slightest interest in me in that way. I expect I repulse him. And even if I didn't, for a long time, I was not entirely sure I could bear to be touched as a man touches a woman." I paused for a moment, rather horrendously embarrassed, but Imrahil gave me a sympathetic look, and indicated that I should continue.
"Now that some time has passed, I have...hope that in time I might be able to work my way through this. I have never minded when Faramir has laid a hand upon me, but he has always been most polite and impersonal. He has had to be, among the men." I blushed a little. "I have dreamed of him being otherwise, but I do not know what would happen, should I try to.... bed with him. As things now stand, I do know that I cannot marry him, or anyone." I shook myself in sudden, embarrassed, irritation. "What I don't know is why I'm telling you all of this!"
"You're telling me because I asked you to speak truthfully, and you are a person of honor. You may rely upon mine that I shall not bandy this abroad." He sat up and looked keenly at me, and the compassion and pity in his eyes started mine to prickling and stinging, and I became angry with it as well.
"Don't do that, my lord prince! You have no call to feel sorry for me! I do well enough for myself. I have friends, and my life is very full. Save your pity for those who truly need it."
The compassion and pity were joined by something that might have been respect. He nodded slowly. "Very well, child. Though I will say the blood of Numenor runs deep and true in you! The King was quite impressed--he said you were most perceptive."
"I've never met the King, my lord."
"Oh yes, you did. Just last night. In the gardens at the Houses of Healing."
"That was the KING? The Ranger Captain?" Imrahil nodded, smiling. All of the blood left my face, and the Prince, concerned, reached for my arm.
"Are you all right?"
"No, my lord. Do you have your sword with you?"
"Yes."
"Then just slay me, slay me now, and get it over with!"
"Whatever for?"
"Because he probably will, the way I spoke to him!"
"Come now, surely it couldn't have been that bad." That wretched twinkle was back in his eyes again.
I moaned. "Oh, you have no idea! He told me why the Dunedain didn't like my father, and I said that if they didn't like him because of something his forefather did 1500 years ago, then they ought not to like Aragorn either, because of what Isildur did."
Imrahil chuckled. "Yes, I know. He was most taken aback, when he recounted it to me. Which was quite entertaining, for it's very seldom that one sees Aragorn at a loss for words. And he said you had told him you did not wish to wed, though you'd given him no reason why."
"Why should I? I didn't know he was the King, and I don't go talking about my situation to every stranger who asks on the street."
"Of course. And now that you've told me, I do agree with you." I sighed and bowed my head. "Which is a shame," he continued, "for I think you'd be better for Faramir than she is."
I looked at him surprised, and he sat back up the rest of the way, and began gathering up the remnants of our meal.
"My third son, Amrothos, is a scholar and a musician and an engineer. He is not martial in the least, other than having an interest in seige equipment, and I have never asked that he become so against his truer nature. One more warrior in what I deemed at the time to be a doomed fight against the Enemy would not have turned the tide, and I felt that he would be done incalculable harm had he been forced to go to war. Faramir is another such one, but by virtue of his position, and his father's inclination, he was forced to go against his natural disposition and become a warrior. That he performed as magnificently as he did is a great credit to him, and that he finished the war sane is a great credit to all of the friends who surrounded him and supported him. I owe quite a debt to the Rangers of Ithilien, you not the least." I blushed yet again. It was becoming something of a habit.
"But I do wonder," he continued, as he began stuffing items back into the saddlebags, "if Faramir hasn't taken some lasting harm from all this, something that may turn up years from now. It does happen somethimes. And if and when it happens, I would prefer that his wife be one who understood what he had been through. Though the Lady Eowyn slew the Captain of the Nazgul, that was but one battle. You were with him through most of the latter part of his long campaign. And I think you would not think the less of him, should some shadow fall upon him from that time."
"No, my lord." I said quietly. "I would not. He has always been most patient with my weaknesses."
"Weaknesses? You seem to have very few of them, from what I've seen."
"I do not see how you can say that, my lord. You've seen me cry like a baby in battle."
"I've seen you cry like a baby after a fight in which you were overmatched, and expected to die, yet still managed to prevail by sheer raw nerve. I'd have been crying too."
"I doubt that, my lord." He offered me my goblet, in which some wine still remained.
"Drink up, so that I may pack. All right, I may not be much inclined to cry these days," he conceded, "But when I was as young as you are--certainly." I gulped the wine down, and gave him the cup, which he placed in the saddlebag.
"Now, I am going to give you some information which is not to be bandied about, and I'm giving it to you only because you need it in order for us to continue our discussion. Have I your word that you will not reveal it to anyone--most particularly Faramir?"
"Of course, my lord prince."
"Very good. At court tomorrow, the King intends to make Faramir the Prince of Ithilien. There will be two Princes of the realm, co-equal in rank."
"Oh, my lord," I breathed, "that is wonderful! And so deserved! Mablung always used to say he was a prince in all but name."
"Ah yes, Mablung does have a rather pithy way of cutting right to the heart of the matter, doesn't he?" I realized that Imrahil probably knew Mablung rather well by now, after the battle at the Black Gate, and nodded.
"The reason I am telling you this, is I would like to ask you a question. Will you be able to serve him as the Ranger Captain of Northern Ithilien, if he is living in Emyn Arnyn in blissful domestic happiness with his wife and children? That's somewhat different from making an occaisional report to him as Steward in Minas Tirith. If I know Faramir, he will be out and about constantly, and you would see much of him. Could you bear that?"
"I will have to, won't I?" I said simply. "I will bear whatever I must, my lord." He looked into my eyes for a moment and nodded.
"I will lend my voice to Faramir's then, to convince Aragorn he should give you the captaincy. Now--onto more cheerful matters. As but a small part of the payment my House owes yours--the horse is yours."
"My lord?"
"The horse is yours, and his equipage. Or any other of mine you might like better, not excepting my own. Though I thought the bay did well enough for you before."
"Oh, my lord prince!" I got to my feet, tears starting in my eyes, and moved to the dark bay, stroking his neck. "I like him very well!"
The Prince grinned boyishly. "Well, I did ask Faramir what you should like, and he did say a horse would please you above all else. He is special horse, too. You will have noticed that almost all of my horses are gray?" I nodded. "I prefer them such, so as to make a good matched cavalry troop, and after years and years of selection, they breed true most of the time."
"Only occasionally is a black or dark bay foaled, and they are considered a sign of good fortune. That's his name, by the way--Fortune. Since the two of you are so unusual, and special, it seems only fitting that he be yours." I rested my forehead against his soft neck for a moment, temporarily overwhelmed. Imrahil watched me with a kind smile. After a moment, I straightened, and turned to him.
"Well, if nothing else, I shall certainly be the best equipped Ranger in Ithilien! With such a fine horse--and a new saddle and bridle! And Lord Elrohir gave me his bow last night!" Imrahil whistled in surprise.
"An Elven bow! Well, that settles it! We must see that you become a Captain, lest your superior officer expire of jealousy because of your equipage!" Once again, that wretched giggle made itself known. Imrahil laughed in response, and turned to place the packed saddlebags upon his horse. Once he had done so, I assisted him with folding and tieing the blanket. Then we unhobbled the horses, bridled them, tightened our girths, and mounted.
"I fear I must part company with you now, Lady Hethlin," the Prince said to me. "Unfortunately, I may only play truant for so long. Do you know where my house is located in the second circle?" I nodded.
"I escorted your family there when they arrived, my lord prince. They seemed very nice, except they were impatient at Prince Amrothos because he wanted to examine the Gate."
The Prince shook his head. "That's Amrothos! I believe he's still working on that particular project. I shall have to make sure he doesn't offend the Dwarven engineers when they arrive. And I'm glad you liked my family. What I meant to say, however, was that you should feel free to stable your horse in my stables whenever you are in the City. I have given orders to my master of horse to that effect, and my house is always open, whether I am in the City or not." My eyes widened at his generosity, for it was true I had had a momentary worry in all my joy about how I would care for Fortune properly, at least until my status was officially confirmed. I bowed to the Prince.
"You are very kind, my lord Prince."
"It's a poor gift that gives the recipient worry and expense," Imrahil replied. "I do naught here but what I should. And I imagine," and here the boyish grin flashed again, "that I can afford his bread bill somewhat better than you can! Good day, Captain!"
"Good day, my lord Prince!" I bowed in the saddle, and he nodded to me graciously, and turned his mount back towards the City. But since he'd been right about it being a beautiful day for riding, I rode Fortune carefully over the Pelennor for a while, and eventually to the Ranger camp, where I showed him off to much admiration, and it was discovered that he not only liked bread, he would lap up beer if given some in a bowl. This trait gave him the ultimate Ithilien Ranger seal of approval. We returned after dark, and on the well-paved road, I let him show me some speed. I then spent a long time in the stables of Dol Amroth, grooming him and cleaning and oiling my new tack, and went to bed a deliriously happy girl, my worries about the future temporarily banished, to dream of flying and the wind in my face.
Author's Equine Note--Tolkein appears to have a thing about grey horses. Shadowfax and all the horses in Eomer's troop are grey, including Arod and Hasufel. Aragorn's horse, Roheryn, brought down from the north, is grey. The Swan Knights as they ride to Minas Tirith, are described as being mounted on grey horses--seven hundred of them! There is a mention of black horses amongst the Rohirrim--that Sauron's minions steal them, for obvious reasons. And the hobbit's ponies are apparently various colors. But most everything else is grey.
The White Stallions of Lipizza are actually greys, almost all of them. But very, very occaisionally, a dark bay or black foal will be born, and it is considered lucky. I have a video that shows one of these horses. I took this tendency, and applied it to Imrahil's horses. (My horse, Mira, is half Lipizzan.)