Author's Note--This is the first time in this story that I have had to quote Tolkein directly. You'll know it when you see it-it's the good dialogue! Many, many, many thanks to all the people who have been reviewing this and e-mailing me and encouraging me all along--Altariel, Dwimordene, Alon, Caerulea, Soledad, Miss Padfoot, and all the rest of you lovely people. Hang in there a bit longer with me, folks, we're almost through!
I woke up the next morning early, and in a far better frame of mind than I had been the day before. Court was to begin at ten, and I was dressed, and thinking about getting breakfast, when Mablung knocked on the door.
"You up yet, Heth?"
"Aye!" I opened the door, and Mablung came in. He was carrying a towel, and a comb and scissors.
"What's that for?" I asked suspiciously.
"I'm just going to give your hair a trim. Want you to look nice for court today." I grinned.
"Did you give everyone else a haircut?"
"Actually yes, a bunch of them yesterday afternoon. You're the last."
"You missed your calling, Mablung. You should forget the Rangers, and go be a barber-surgeon." He pulled up my one wooden chair, and harrumphed in response.
"Sit down, and hold still." I did as he commanded, and he spent considerable time fussing and trimming tiny bits off the ends.
"Just go ahead and cut it off, Mablung, and stop messing about. It's getting down to my shoulders now."
"I know that, and I'm thinking you should just let it grow. A little longer, and you'll be able to pull it back in a tail. And then it will be out of your eyes."
"You just want to make me look girly, admit it."
"Heth, half the people in the City know you're a woman now, and it doesn't seem to matter. They know you're competent. Why not try to look a little pretty as well?"
I sighed resignedly. "Do whatever you want, Mablung. You will anyway." So he fussed, and he trimmed, and I had to admit that he'd done a nice job when he was finished. My hair fell down to my shoulders in a neatly trimmed bob.
"That does look nice," I told him as he whisked the towel off my shoulders.
"Aye, not half bad if I say so myself. Here, stand up and let me have a look at you."
"Oooooooh. Inspection!" Not that he'd find too much to complain about. I'd sent my poor, tattered Ranger cloak to the fuller's against this occaision, and it was clean, and mended as much as was possible. The tunic and breeches and shirt were some of the new ones I'd gotten in Minas Tirith the night before we'd ridden to Osgiliath, and they were clean too. The tunic was dark green, and made a reasonable substitution for my Ranger tunic, ruined during the Nazgul attack on our way to the City. I'd soaped and oiled my belt and boots and quiver, which contained only newly fletched arrows with green feathers. Nothing needed to be done to Elrohir's bow. Now that my hair was fixed, I felt I was quite presentable.
Mablung, however, seemed to feel otherwise. He cocked his head to one side and surveyed me. "Hmmmmm. Clean, but plain. Needs something." He reached into his belt pouch, and pulled out the something.
"Here you go, Heth. We divvied up the Haradrim stuff this morning, and I took this for your share." Over the last few years, as the Rangers of Ithilien had met the Haradrim in conflict, we'd amassed quite a bit of gold, jewelry, armor and weapons--like the gold-inlaid black horse bow I'd used before Elrohir gave me his. Much of it had gone on to the City to help fund the war effort, but Faramir had held some back for his men, as his Captain's share, in case the City was unable to pay us at any point. I didn't think he'd ever mentioned this to his father. There had been enough that each of us would get at least one nice piece. I'd forgotten about it completely, but, as usual, Mablung had looked after my interests.
What he fastened around my neck was a necklace of three strands of heavy gold, amber and ivory beads. The ivory was very delicately carved, and the whole piece was somewhat finer than was typical of Haradrim martial jewelry. I wondered if perhaps it was a woman's necklace, that she'd sent off to war with her beloved for good luck. If so, I could only hope that it would prove luckier for me.
"This is beautiful, Mablung. I think I remember this one."
"Well, I thought you should have it because of the mumak ivory. So did everyone else."
"Did you get something for Lorend? And what about yourself? I don't see you wearing anything flashy. Though......wait a minute--isn't that a brand new tunic and shirt?" The tunic was actually quite handsome. A darker green than mine, it was embroidered about the hem with leaping stags. And the shirt had obviously been made to match, with green and brown stitching to match the tunic. Rather to my surprise, he flushed a dull red, and muttered something unintelligible.
"What was that again?"
"I said, don't you worry about me any. I already got my share, and cashed it in." He pulled out another necklace and earrings, of gold alone, and not so finely worked as mine, but impressive nonetheless.
"This is Lorend's. Think he can bait a few women with it?"
"Oh yes. Not that he needs any help or anything." I looked at the earrings. "I wonder how he'd look with his ears pierced." For the necklace and earrings were a man's jewelry--many of the Haradrim warriors wore earrings.
"It'd be more to the point to pierce that one's lips, and sew 'em shut. But let's go collect him--we're running late."
"We're not that late, and I want breakfast!" My stomach was growling fiercely.
"We'll head down to the dining hall then, and see if he's there first. If he isn't, you can grab a bite, and I'll go fetch him. But hurry!"
So we went down to the dining hall, and Lorend was in fact there, in his Ranger tunic and cloak--and an exceptionally nice silk shirt embroidered about the collar and cuffs with green leaves. I admired it as I wolfed down some toast and cheese and ale, but he wouldn't let me touch it till I'd wiped my hands.
"So is this spoils for your time with the tailor twins?" I inquired, as Mablung all but dragged us out down the corridors towards the Hall of Audience.
"Aye."
"Which one did it?"
"Dairenn. That's how I met her--I commissioned the shirt."
"Nice. Hmmmmmm, what's this on the back of the collar?" I made a show of examining it as we hurried along. "Nice embroidery! I can barely make it out--it appears to be letters of some kind amongst the leaves. Oh, I see now--'Curse you, you faithless wretch!'" Lorend turned his head as far back over his shoulder as he could, and tried to pull the back of the collar forward to examine it. I started to laugh.
"Got you!" Lorend cursed me concisely and bitterly while Mablung snorted.
"Can we hurry, please--children!" Finally, we fetched up against the entrance to the Hall of Audience, where Mablung exchanged a few low words with the Tower Guard who stood there before he admitted us.
I had been in the Hall of Audience a time or two before, on this errand or that for Faramir. The pillars, the immensity, the many colored traceries on the ceiling, the great throne with its helm-shaped canopy-- all were incredibly impressive and daunting in their magnificence when empty. When the Hall was filled to overflowing, as it was today, the effect was almost overwhelming, though in truth, the crowd was not as colorful as in previous days. The centermost portion of the hall was a sea of sable and silver, the men of the City Guard, with a smaller contigent wearing the winged helms of the Tower Guard. Ranged upon either side of them were Riders of Rohan in their green and white, and the Swan Knights of Dol Amroth in blue and silver. In front of the Riders was the entire company of the Rangers of Ithilien in green and brown, a small group by comparison, whilst a similar sized group of seafaring types stood to the fore of the Swan Knights.
This court, unlike those of the previous days, had been called solely so that the King could recognize the valor of all those who had fought and helped him gain his throne, and the peacock presence of the courtiers was much reduced. The courtyard outside the Citadel, and the streets surrounding it were filled with the kin of the soldiers who stood within, and from time to time heralds would venture forth to relate to the crowds the list of honors as they were announced within. Cheers would rise outside throughout the day, whenever a particularly popular warrior was named.
Up upon the dias, however, many great personages were present. The King,clad in his jet black mail and white cloak, looked magnificent, the Elfstone at his throat, the winged helm on his head and his sword across his knees. Upon either side of him were two thrones set, and upon them sat King Eomer of Rohan, looking like a god of olden times in gold-washed mail and a golden circlet and Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, like unto an Elf lord in his shining silver armor, and a circlet of sapphires and crystal upon his dark hair. To either side of the dias were other notables seated--the sons of Elrond, Elf lords indeed, also martially clad, sat with certain grim looking members of the Grey Company.
Prince Imrahil's family was there in its entirety save for his second son Elchirion, who had, report made it, returned home to see to business upon the coast. I got my first look at his oldest son and heir, Elphir, also mail-clad for the occaision, and thought he resembled his sire greatly. He was seated between his sister Lothiriel and a sweet-faced young woman in Dol Amroth blue and a gemmed circlet who I suspected might be his wife. Prince Amrothos was on Princess Lothiriel's other side initially, until about an hour into the court. Then he moved back to the second rank of nobles to escape her jabbing elbow and hissed admonitions, displacing a less exalted person so he could read the book he'd brought with him in peace. I saw his father give him a raised eyebrow and a wry look, but he did not attempt to stop him.
Eowyn was there too, dressed in white, seated in a throne-like chair beside her brother. Many lords and Marshals of the Mark gathered about them, including the Marshal of the Riders. Lord Hurin stood close at hand, and in chairs close to the King's throne, sat another Elf, pale-haired and clad in misty green and silver, and a dwarf with a fierce red beard and some truly magnificent armor. I realized that they must be Legolas and Gimli, the Companions of the Ring that everyone had heard so much about. After a time, I saw a head peering over the arm of the King's throne and realized that the perian, Pippin, was waiting upon him, clad in the uniform of the Tower Guard, and that indeed, Merry was present as well in the livery of the Mark, waiting upon Eomer and Eowyn. Of Mithrandir, or Frodo and Samwise, there was no sign.
Faramir was sitting, when he had the opportunity to sit, which was seldom for he was helping to orchestrate the whole affair, in his Steward's chair on the bottom step, which had been moved to one side to expedite the flow of people to and from the King. He had put on dark green for the occaision to honor his Rangers, in place of his habitual black, though it was trimmed in black and silver, and his valet or someone had managed to make his hair look reasonably tidy for once. Mablung eventually got us to the front ranks of the Rangers, arguably one of the best places in the house, and Faramir, when he saw us there the next time he looked that direction, acknowledged us with a quick smile and a small wave of his hand close to the body. He looked busy and happy and proud, and I couldn't help but be happy for him, with a King he respected to love and serve, and his lady close at hand. Not to mention the honor I knew was going to come his way before the day was out. I hugged my secret knowledge to myself, but I have ever been somewhat transparent, and Mablung knew that something was up.
"Heth, you look like a cat licking its whiskers clean of cream," he informed me severely. "What's going on?"
"I happen to know something that you don't for a change, Mablung, and I'm enjoying it."
"You going to tell us?"
"No, I gave my word I wouldn't. And it's not like this has ever happened to me before. I'm going to savor it while it lasts."
"I see. Well, at least one of us is enjoying herself."
But even the anticipation of what was to come was not enough to keep me from being bored with the proceedings in the end. There were several hundred of us in there, and the King made a point of speaking to each one individually, and many received material rewards, or promotions of some sort. He started with the City Guard, and had worked through a good portion of them by an hour past noon, when a recess was called so that the royal personage could get lunch and refresh himself. It looked as though to work through the entire lot of us was going to take the rest of the day, and into the night, but it seemed ungrateful to complain when the King had to do the most work of any of us.
When the recess was called, about half the soldiers within made their way outside to find family members who had brought food, or to find a nearby tavern. The other half, most probably the ones who had reason to believe they'd be called soon after court was resumed remained. Those were almost all City Guard, and stood talking amongst themselves. It was time to discuss lunch arrangements.
"Mablung, Lorend and I are still living here in the Citadel. We can get you into the servants'dining hall with us, if you want." I told him. Much to my surprise, his cheeks got a little red for the second time that morning.
"I'm taken care of, lass. You and the lad fend for yourselves, and I'll join you afterward." And with no further ado, he melted into the crowd. Lorend and I looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
"Now that," Lorend declared, "almost cries out for a bit of stealthy reconnaisance." He looked over my shoulder at something, and paled suddenly. "Particularly since I see your drinking companion and her very large, very royal brother headed our way! I'll see what I can find out. Catch you later, Heth!" And he too did the Ranger fading trick and vanished. I turned, and rather to my surprise, saw Eowyn coming towards me, the King of Rohan in tow.
"Hethlin! How are you? I want you to meet my brother!" She held no grudge about our last encounter, I was glad to see. I bowed to her, and lower still to the King.
"My lady. My lord king." Eomer of Rohan was as fair as his sister--in, of course, an extremely vigorous, masculine and virile fashion, and his eyes were a bright, hot blue. He took my hand in his, and gave it a firm squeeze. I suspected what would be expected of me in return, and squeezed back as hard as I was able. He grinned, opened my hand and examined it, then looked me up and down as if he were assessing my better points. Somewhat to my surprise, I realized he was not at all displeased with what he saw by any means.
"She's got a good grip, sister," he said approvingly. "And a pretty mane. I like greys." Eowyn rolled her eyes. I took a chance.
"Perhaps the King would like to check my teeth while he's about it?" Eomer's laughter rang out loudly, and several people looked our way. I saw the Princess Lothiriel give our group a look of commingled longing and jealousy.
"Oh, you were right about her, 'Wyn! A Gondorrim who speaks her mind! I must see more of this rarity! But over lunch. We've not much time before Aragorn reconvenes, so let's go, and see if we cannot return the favor she did you by keeping you well-supplied with beer against my return." I blanched a little at the prospect of a lunch where I was expected to keep pace with the beer consumption of the royal house of Rohan, a test I'd already failed miserably, but was given no choice. Eomer threw one long arm about his sister's waist, the other about mine, and carried us off with no further ado.
So rather to my amazement, instead of the servants' hall, I found myself at the lunch which had been prepared for the royalty of Rohan, who were all seated in a chamber to themselves. Eowyn sat on Eomer's right hand, while I had the left-hand seat. Merry was not present--perhaps he had gone to eat with the other hobbits. The King saw to it that my glass was kept full, and that choice bits found their way to my plate, as was the guest custom in his land. I was careful in my turn to keep my beer consumption to small sips, and sat for a long time simply listening to the rolling cadences of their language. Eomer noted my interest.
"Do you speak our tongue at all, lady?"
"No, sire. My father did somewhat. I grew up in Anorien. I love the way it sounds, but I only know a few words."
"The bad ones," Eowyn added, rather unnecessarily, I thought. She'd had a couple of tankards by now, but was being outpaced by her brother, who nonetheless looked absolutely unchanged. The king grinned.
"Oh really? Which ones?" I turned beet red, and it wasn't from the beer.
"Come lady, whisper them in my ear. I'll tell no one." His blue eyes met mine challengingly, and I lifted my chin and decided to brazen it out. His golden hair tickled my nose as I murmured softly into his ear, as concisely and coolly as I could. He chortled, a deep, rich sound.
"You have a good accent."
"So I've been told, my lord king."
"But you need some more words for your collection. Allow me." And he murmured a couple of phrases into my ear in return. Eowyn looked at her brother suspiciously.
"Eomer, what did you say to her?" The king shrugged, grinned, and addressed himself to his plate. Eowyn got out of her chair, and came to my shoulder.
"Hethlin, what did he say to you?" She bent down, and I murmured the words to her as closely as I could remember, whereupon she immediately turned and punched her brother in the arm. He simply laughed.
"What did he say, Eowyn?" I suspected it was as vile as the words I already knew, and Eowyn's response confirmed this.
"I can't tell you that--it would damage diplomatic relations between Gondor and Rohan! How could you, Eomer! She's Aragorn's kinswoman, for Valar's sake!"
"He might actually think it a good idea. Bind our two nations closer, and all that."
"Not what you proposed, brother!" And she sat back down and sipped her beer broodingly. Eomer gave her a smile, then turned to me, and said something out loud this time.
"There, Eowyn, translate that if you would." She gave him a smouldering look, and he chuckled.
"This time, he says he thanks you for all your kindnesses on my behalf, and he's glad to discover that Gondor too, has fell and pretty shield maidens."
"Thank you, my lord king." I inclined my head politely. "Where is the Lord Faramir, lady?" I asked Eowyn, hoping to make Eomer's prank forgotten.
"He had too much to do to join us for lunch, though he promises to be present at dinner," she answered, her face softening with a fond smile. It looked as if things were going well on the courtship front, at least. We discussed some of the plans for the immediate future, Eomer's return to Rohan with his sister and the eventual return of King Theoden's body.
"Do you think you'll be able to come to Rohan when we bring Theoden King home?" Eowyn asked me. "You had said that you'd like to do that."
"It depends on what the King has planned for me. I'll know more after today, I suspect. Oh--I nearly forgot to tell you! The Prince of Dol Amroth gave me a horse yesterday, Eowyn!" And from that point on, the conversation became a very equine one, with the king and anyone nearby who could speak Westron chipping in their opinions on the merits of the Dol Amroth bloodline. It seemed all too short a time before the bell signalling the resumption of court rang out, and we returned to the Hall of Audience.
"Did you get enough beer, lady?" Eomer asked with a grin as we moved into the Hall. Eowyn had been telling tales, it seemed. I smiled sweetly back at him.
"As much as I could handle, my lord. Unlike some people, I don't have a nice throne to sit upon if I start to tilt a bit to one side." He laughed again, declared himself charmed, clapped me on the back so hard that I staggered a bit, and made his way back to his throne. I rejoined the Rangers, suffering the inevitable commentary and speculation on exactly how I'd spent my lunch hour. Stud jokes amused the Company for a half hour or so, but people were careful to keep them quiet, conscious of the Riders all too close to hand. Then things settled down once more into quiet boredom, interspersed with occaisional enthusiasm when a Guardsman was recognized that the Rangers knew personally. There was a continual movement of folk in and out of the hall, to take the air, or for other reasons. I quite admired the King, who for hour after hour greeted his men with the exact same air of quiet gratitude and interest without respite, never flagging or seeming to grow tired, giving each one a personal memory of their sovereign that they could carry happily to the end of their lives.
The King finally worked his way through the City Guard, and King Eomer began making presentations to certain of his men, speaking in both Rohirric and Westron, so that all could understand. He had a lovely deep voice, and was a good speaker, a charismatic leader, if not quite so imposing as Aragorn. He was some ways into his presentations, when I realized something.
"Mablung, did the King give anything to Beregond of the Guard? Did I miss it?"
Mablung pondered a moment. He had reappeared as inexplicably as he'd left, and had managed to give Lorend the slip in the process.
"I don't think so, Heth, now that you mention it. I was waiting for that, because of what he did for the Captain and all."
"You don't think the King is punishing him for leaving his post, do you? I'd hate to think of him locked in a dungeon somewhere."
"Don't think that's Aragorn's style, Heth. Besides, he wasn't upset with Beregond when we were marching on the Black Gate. My guess is he'll do something for him quietly, since he did break the rules. Now--have you given any thought to the resupply for Henneth-Annun?" And we spent the next little bit discussing business--rosters, supplies, patrol routes. I found it all quite engrossing, and the next time we bothered to watch the proceedings, it was late in the afternoon, the Rohirrim were finished with their presentations, and the Prince of Dol Amroth was introducing his notable warriors to the King. Mablung snorted.
"Looks like he's saving the best for last. Lucky us, huh?" I was personally unsurprised--Faramir's crowning would be the high point of the day, and the King would undoubtedly leave it for the end. Though for my part, the strain of waiting to see if he would confirm my captaincy was beginning to wear upon me.
Another, shorter recess was called at dusk. Court was clearing out somewhat. Many of the City Guardsmen who'd been recognized had reunited with their families and returned home for the evening, and some of the Riders had returned to their camps. The Swan Knights remained in force, however, and some of the usual collection of courtiers were slipping in, now that the concentration of commoners was going down. I looked at the extreme variation of the dresses the ladies wore in bemusement.
"I don't think I'll ever understand fashion." I told Mablung. He grimaced.
"I think it mostly gives silly women who don't have enough important work in their lives something to do. Silly men, too." And he pointed out a minstrel with the most amazing sleeves. There was quite a clot of color about the Prince of Dol Amroth, and I asked Mablung about it.
"Butterflies around the honey pot, Heth, butterflies around the honey pot. The man's a widower, and the richest man in the kingdom. It's always like that when he comes to court."
"Surely the King is richer?"
"Nay. The King has a lot of rebuilding to do. Dol Amroth is unscathed, and they've been taking in harbor fees and tariffs from that port of theirs for centuries. Not to mention all that incredible farmland the Prince has down around Belfalas. But I'm sure Imrahil will front Aragorn a loan if he asks for it." He looked at the ladies and grinned. "He's too fast on his feet for the lot of you, lasses! Been doing this dance for a couple of decades now!" I laughed to think of all the dissappointed ladies, and the bell to reconvene rang. The flood of color around Prince Imrahil receeded, and he resumed his throne with quick celerity. The King, who had come in right before the bell, leaned over to him and said something. Imrahil laughed, and answered, and the King sat up, grinning. Then, Aragorn's glance moved across the room, and fell, to my surprise, upon me. He looked at me for a moment, and the grin faded. A thoughtful expression replaced it, and I shivered a bit.
"What's the King giving you the eye for, Hethlin?" asked Lorend, persisting in his usual habit of extreme perception at exactly the wrong time.
"Probably figuring out if he's going to simply hang me, or skin me first."
"Whatever for, lass? You've done nothing to him. Never even met the man." said Mablung, giving Aragorn a quizzical stare in return, but the King was now speaking to Eomer of Rohan.
"Oh, yes I have." When the two of them turned to me in surprise, I gave them the tale of my encounter with Ranger Captain Thorongil. Mablung groaned when I came to the part about Isildur.
"Oh, Heth, you didn't!"
"I surely did!" I exclaimed, irritated all over again at my stupidity. "Though it was the way I felt at the time, and truth to tell, I still feel that way."
"But to tell him that--"
"I didn't know he was the King!"
"But you knew he was a member of the Grey Company, and for all you knew was Aragorn's sworn sword-brother or something. That lot hangs together real tight, they do."
"Fine, Mablung, I've doomed myself. You don't have to rub it in." I crossed my arms in disgust. Lorend appeared much taken with a sudden thought.
"Hmmmm-does that mean your captaincy is up for grabs, Heth?" Both Mablung and I gave him simultaneous, quelling stares. He grinned somewhat defensively.
"Just asking."
Finally, as dusk deepened into night, the Rangers' turn came, and Faramir stood on the steps below the throne and brought before the King for his approbation all of our friends and comrades. After waiting all day and part of the night for our turn, we were not civilised--we whooped and cheered, drawing the disdainful glances of the ever-increasing crowd of courtiers, and amused looks from Eomer, Elrohir and Imrahil. Damrod, Anborn, Lorend and all the others went up in their turn. Lorend came back down after his interview, shaking his head and whistling in admiration.
"He's something, isn't he?"
When Mablung and I were the only two left, Faramir indicated that the two of us should approach the royal presence together. Mablung gave me a steadying touch on the elbow as we started forward. It seemed to me that a silence had fallen, though I'm sure that was just my anxiety, and people were talking amongst themselves as they had all day. My bootheels on the pavement sounded loud as drums, and my heart seemed not much quieter. We mounted the steps, and bowed when directed, and stood before the King, who rose from his throne and approached Mablung.
"Captain, your deeds on our journey to the Black Gate, and after our arrival there, by themselves have gained you much reknown, and are deserving of much reward. But my Lord Steward has also said much of your years of daring and faithful service to the kingdom of Gondor. It pleases me to confirm you as Captain of the South Ithilien Ranger Company, and to give you a portion of that which you have defended so well." Pippin brought forward a brooch, which the King pinned onto Mablung's shoulder, and a piece of parchment sealed with the King's seal, which proved to be a land grant of generous size, and good quality, close to Emyn Arnyn. Mablung's eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, obviously much moved.
"The King is generous," he husked, but Aragorn merely shook his head.
"The King merely rewards that which is deserving of reward." And he leaned forward, and embraced Mablung, who then bowed to him once more, and took a step backward down one of the steps. Then he turned to me.
"My lady Hethlin--you have the most interesting set of advocates! The Lord Steward, the White Lady of Rohan, Lord Hurin, Prince Imrahil, this gentleman here, my foster brothers Elrohir and Elladan--" he shot an ironic glance in Elrohir's direction, and Elrohir simply smiled in response, and made an equally ironic bow from his chair. "All of them your devout adherents, and all of them eager to preach to me of your many talents and abilities. Your loyalty. Your courage. Your horsemanship. Your skill with a bow. And so forth and so on. I myself know firsthand of your unique persepective on the ancient history of our people." The greys eyes beneath that imposing helm were twinkling a bit, but I cast mine down, and bowed my head in dismay.
"Your deeds on the Pelennor, and your long and faithful service make you deserving of this," and he pressed into my hand a parchment like unto Mablung's. "You will find the land every bit as good, and hard by your old friend's, here. Quite suitable for horses, I believe. I trust that does not displease you?"
"No, Sire," I said, finally looking up and meeting his eyes once again. He nodded approval.
"Good. Now, as to other matters--I am not going to confirm you in the Captaincy of North Ithilien." Both Mablung and Faramir started to speak, but he forestalled them with an imperious gesture of his hand.
"Not because of any lack on your part, nor any lack of faith on mine. The Steward feels you could do the job, you feel you could do the job, and so do I. But I foresee needing your service in another capacity entirely in the future, and you do not yet have the skills you will require for that. And as yet, I do not have the staff here in Minas Tirith to give you the instruction you need. So I needs must rely upon another of my most trusted vassals. Prince Imrahil!"
The Prince raised an eyebrow. "Sire?"
"Attend us, please." The Prince rose from his throne and came to the King's side. There was a muttering from the Rangers, and the rest of the crowd. The King's words had been too low to be heard by the audience, but Imrahil's presence alerted them that something unusual was going on.
"Your court is the most cultured and civilized in Gondor. This lady is my kinswoman from afar, and as such, has a place within the royal court. But, through no fault of her own, she lacks...polish. And though her martial skills are formidable, I judge they could be improved. Would you be willing to take her as an esquire, and train her up to be a Swan Knight?"
Mablung and Faramir looked at each other, nonplussed. I looked at the King in disbelief, not sure how to feel. A Swan Knight? I truly wanted to go back to my friends in Ithilien, and resume my life there as a Ranger. But the Swan Knights were the finest mounted warriors in the kingdom....Prince Imrahil was regarding me thoughtfully.
"I would not be adverse, Sire, if that is your wish. Though there has never been a woman among my company."
"Whether she actually becomes a Swan Knight or not, I trust you, my friend, to teach her the many things she will need to know." Imrahil nodded assent, and the King turned his attention back to me.
"I know that this is not how you would have wished things to go, Hethlin, but I ask you to bear with me. Swear fealty to Prince Imrahil now, and study with him for two years, and at the end of that time, should you desire to return to Ithilien, I will grant your request. Will you do this thing for me?"
What else could I do? I nodded my assent. "Yes, Sire, if that is your wish." So he bade me kneel, and set my hands between the Prince's, and swear the oath. I felt myself shaking a little because of the long day, the stress of waiting or dissappointment--I was not sure which. And my hands must have been cold as ice, for the Prince started, then gave me a sympathetic look as he took them in his own. We each repeated our part of the formula, Faramir giving me a prompt when necessary, for it was not something I'd ever studied, or magined needing to do. His face was unreadable. Imrahil then helped me up and gave me a ceremonial embrace.
"Come now child, it won't be as bad as all that!" he murmured in my ear before he released me, then indicated that I should follow him to where his family sat, and take Prince Amrothos' deserted chair. Princess Lothiriel gave me a frankly curious look as I sat down.
There was a dangerous muttering amongst the Company as I took my seat with the Dol Amroth contingent. The King raised his eyebrows, and his voice, which carried throughout the hall.
"You didn't like that, did you?" he asked the Rangers, who immediately became very quiet. "You certainly are an insubordinate lot! You question my decisions, you abduct my very kinsmen......." Of a sudden, his voice cracked like a whip. "All of you, up here, right now! Form up here!" And his hand pointed to the foot of the stairs. "Captain Mablung, take command of these miscreants!" Mablung bowed, and started down the stairs--I could tell he was somewhat worried, but trusting of the King, and willing to wait upon events. The Rangers, who were far more worried, shuffled forward mumbling into a formation of sorts. Close-order marching was not an art much practised in Ithilien. Faramir started to say something to the King, but Aragorn stopped him with a shake of his head.
Once they had formed up, the King looked down upon them with a grim expression.
"Let us see if I can make some decisions you will not question, then. Summon forth Beregond of the Guard." And Beregond was brought forth, and made to kneel before the King, since this was a matter of judgement, and not reward. The King regarded him gravely, and the rest of us looked upon the King in bafflement, for we had no idea where he was going with this.
"Beregond, by your sword was blood spilled in the Hallows, where that is forbidden. Also, you left your post without leave of Lord or Captain. For these things, of old, death was the penalty. Now therefore I must pronounce your doom."
"All penalty is remitted for your valour in battle, and still more because all that you did was for the love of the Lord Faramir. Nonetheless, you must leave the Guard of the Citadel, and you must go forth from the City of Minas Tirith." Those of Beregond's friends in the Tower Guard, who had remained to see what would become of him, groaned in disbelief and misery, and the Guardsman himself bowed his head, grief-stricken. I saw the Prince Elphir pull a wooden casket from beneath his chair, rise slowly and go to give it to his father, both of them grinning like fools. Beside me, Princess Lothiriel was bouncing slightly in her chair.
"So must it be, for you are apppointed to the White Company, the Guard of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, and you shall be its captain and dwell in Emyn Arnen in honour and in peace, and in the service of him for whom you risked all, to save him from death." Prince Imrahil rose from his throne once more, and came to the King, opening the casket. There were servants busy on the dias, setting another throne beside Eomer's, or more precisely, next to Eowyn's chair. Beregond, still kneeling, kissed the King's hand joyfully, then bowed and departed after a loving look at Faramir, who was standing with a look of puzzlement upon his face.
"Sire?' he asked bemusedly, and Aragorn smiled suddenly.
"My Lord Steward, get thee up here, and kneel." Faramir did so slowly, and his face was somewhat pale. Absolute silence had fallen over the hall. When Faramir had done as he was bidden, Aragorn looked down upon him with great solemnity, while he looked up with what seemed to be trepidation.
"As you know, Lord Faramir, I had the good fortune to travel with and fight beside your brother Lord Boromir for a time, and found him to be both valorous and honorable. But the greatest of his traits besides his valor and honor, was his unswerving devotion to and love of Gondor, a trait which is matched in his younger brother. Had it not been for the two of you, and your stalwart defence of this realm, I would not have had a throne to return to. And you are but the latest in the long line of your House to protect and preserve Gondor. I have been King but a few days, so hopefully none will call me laggard if I only now reward you as you so richly merit." He reached into the casket and pulled out an intricately carved circlet set with beryls and crystal, holding it above Faramir's dark head.
"Take thou Ithilien to be thy princedom, Faramir, thou and thine heirs, to this kingdom's end," the King intoned formally, and set the circlet upon his head.
A roar of approval erupted from the Rangers, and it was answered with thunderous acclamation from the rest of the court, that only grew the louder as people further away from the dias discovered what had transpired, for Faramir had always been much beloved by the people of the City. I very much wished to leap to my feet and shout with them, and even started to get up, but remembered me in time that I was among the high folk on the dias, and sank back into my chair. Lothiriel looked at me, her eyes twinkling, and suddenly leaped to her feet, hauling me up by the arm, whereupon the two of us jumped up and down and shouted to our hearts' content. Even Prince Amrothos laid down his book, and stood up, lending his voice to the din.
After a moment, Aragorn raised Faramir up and embraced him, then he was embraced in turn by his uncle and his cousin Elphir, and Lothiriel, who abandoned all dignity and flung herself upon him bodily. King Eomer arose to offer his congratulations, and Eowyn, whom he embraced and kissed quite publicly, his face having gone from pale to quite flushed, and his eyes sparkling. Aragorn said something to him quietly, and he nodded and smiled, and finally, he was allowed to make his way to his new throne and seat himself, to another roar of approval. When the tumult had died down, Aragorn finally concluded the business of his court with a public acknowledgement of the service that Eomer had given him; then, acting as his own herald, announced that his court was now over, "--pending, of course, the approval of the Ithilien Rangers!"
That gained him another roar, and not a little abashed laughter, and the Hall became a milling confusion of people seeking their dinner, or gathering together in knots to discuss the day's events. I stood, uncertain exactly what I should do, or when my service started. Prince Imrahil, seeing my confusion, came over to me.
"An hour after noon tomorrow, I'll send someone to help you bring your things to my house, lady. Until then, by all means, celebrate with your friends! Unless the day's events have rendered you unable to celebrate?" He looked genuinely concerned.
"Oh no, my lord prince, as I told you yesterday, Prince Faramir's elevation is well-deserved, and I am very happy for him."
"And your own situation?" he inquired gently. I smiled, but feared it was a somewhat sickly effort.
"The King is far older and wiser than I, and as his subject, I am obligated to serve him in whatever way he deems best." Prince Imrahil winced at my evident unhappiness.
"Hopefully, Aragorn's wisdom will be made manifest in time."
"I am certain that it will, my liege." And I bowed to him, and departed, for I had noticed Lorend and Mablung looking for me, and it occurred to me suddenly that I did not wish to be found, that I was in fact, very tired of the City and people about me, and a campfire with Rangers about me was not much better. It also occurred to me, as I gave Lorend the slip through passageways in the Citadel that we knew equally well, but that I could travel faster having two good legs, that I was very, very tired of being a good sport about Lord Faramir, and very, very dissappointed about my captaincy, and if I remained in the company of my friends this evening, I was either going to break down in tears, or say things I would regret for the rest of my life.
So I made my way through the service alleys to Lord Imrahil's house, and his stables, and my horse, whom I fed a handful of grain to, and saddled him swiftly. I then rode forth by the less-crowded back streets, down out of the City and onto the Pelennor, seeking solitude and the stars.
I woke up the next morning early, and in a far better frame of mind than I had been the day before. Court was to begin at ten, and I was dressed, and thinking about getting breakfast, when Mablung knocked on the door.
"You up yet, Heth?"
"Aye!" I opened the door, and Mablung came in. He was carrying a towel, and a comb and scissors.
"What's that for?" I asked suspiciously.
"I'm just going to give your hair a trim. Want you to look nice for court today." I grinned.
"Did you give everyone else a haircut?"
"Actually yes, a bunch of them yesterday afternoon. You're the last."
"You missed your calling, Mablung. You should forget the Rangers, and go be a barber-surgeon." He pulled up my one wooden chair, and harrumphed in response.
"Sit down, and hold still." I did as he commanded, and he spent considerable time fussing and trimming tiny bits off the ends.
"Just go ahead and cut it off, Mablung, and stop messing about. It's getting down to my shoulders now."
"I know that, and I'm thinking you should just let it grow. A little longer, and you'll be able to pull it back in a tail. And then it will be out of your eyes."
"You just want to make me look girly, admit it."
"Heth, half the people in the City know you're a woman now, and it doesn't seem to matter. They know you're competent. Why not try to look a little pretty as well?"
I sighed resignedly. "Do whatever you want, Mablung. You will anyway." So he fussed, and he trimmed, and I had to admit that he'd done a nice job when he was finished. My hair fell down to my shoulders in a neatly trimmed bob.
"That does look nice," I told him as he whisked the towel off my shoulders.
"Aye, not half bad if I say so myself. Here, stand up and let me have a look at you."
"Oooooooh. Inspection!" Not that he'd find too much to complain about. I'd sent my poor, tattered Ranger cloak to the fuller's against this occaision, and it was clean, and mended as much as was possible. The tunic and breeches and shirt were some of the new ones I'd gotten in Minas Tirith the night before we'd ridden to Osgiliath, and they were clean too. The tunic was dark green, and made a reasonable substitution for my Ranger tunic, ruined during the Nazgul attack on our way to the City. I'd soaped and oiled my belt and boots and quiver, which contained only newly fletched arrows with green feathers. Nothing needed to be done to Elrohir's bow. Now that my hair was fixed, I felt I was quite presentable.
Mablung, however, seemed to feel otherwise. He cocked his head to one side and surveyed me. "Hmmmmm. Clean, but plain. Needs something." He reached into his belt pouch, and pulled out the something.
"Here you go, Heth. We divvied up the Haradrim stuff this morning, and I took this for your share." Over the last few years, as the Rangers of Ithilien had met the Haradrim in conflict, we'd amassed quite a bit of gold, jewelry, armor and weapons--like the gold-inlaid black horse bow I'd used before Elrohir gave me his. Much of it had gone on to the City to help fund the war effort, but Faramir had held some back for his men, as his Captain's share, in case the City was unable to pay us at any point. I didn't think he'd ever mentioned this to his father. There had been enough that each of us would get at least one nice piece. I'd forgotten about it completely, but, as usual, Mablung had looked after my interests.
What he fastened around my neck was a necklace of three strands of heavy gold, amber and ivory beads. The ivory was very delicately carved, and the whole piece was somewhat finer than was typical of Haradrim martial jewelry. I wondered if perhaps it was a woman's necklace, that she'd sent off to war with her beloved for good luck. If so, I could only hope that it would prove luckier for me.
"This is beautiful, Mablung. I think I remember this one."
"Well, I thought you should have it because of the mumak ivory. So did everyone else."
"Did you get something for Lorend? And what about yourself? I don't see you wearing anything flashy. Though......wait a minute--isn't that a brand new tunic and shirt?" The tunic was actually quite handsome. A darker green than mine, it was embroidered about the hem with leaping stags. And the shirt had obviously been made to match, with green and brown stitching to match the tunic. Rather to my surprise, he flushed a dull red, and muttered something unintelligible.
"What was that again?"
"I said, don't you worry about me any. I already got my share, and cashed it in." He pulled out another necklace and earrings, of gold alone, and not so finely worked as mine, but impressive nonetheless.
"This is Lorend's. Think he can bait a few women with it?"
"Oh yes. Not that he needs any help or anything." I looked at the earrings. "I wonder how he'd look with his ears pierced." For the necklace and earrings were a man's jewelry--many of the Haradrim warriors wore earrings.
"It'd be more to the point to pierce that one's lips, and sew 'em shut. But let's go collect him--we're running late."
"We're not that late, and I want breakfast!" My stomach was growling fiercely.
"We'll head down to the dining hall then, and see if he's there first. If he isn't, you can grab a bite, and I'll go fetch him. But hurry!"
So we went down to the dining hall, and Lorend was in fact there, in his Ranger tunic and cloak--and an exceptionally nice silk shirt embroidered about the collar and cuffs with green leaves. I admired it as I wolfed down some toast and cheese and ale, but he wouldn't let me touch it till I'd wiped my hands.
"So is this spoils for your time with the tailor twins?" I inquired, as Mablung all but dragged us out down the corridors towards the Hall of Audience.
"Aye."
"Which one did it?"
"Dairenn. That's how I met her--I commissioned the shirt."
"Nice. Hmmmmmm, what's this on the back of the collar?" I made a show of examining it as we hurried along. "Nice embroidery! I can barely make it out--it appears to be letters of some kind amongst the leaves. Oh, I see now--'Curse you, you faithless wretch!'" Lorend turned his head as far back over his shoulder as he could, and tried to pull the back of the collar forward to examine it. I started to laugh.
"Got you!" Lorend cursed me concisely and bitterly while Mablung snorted.
"Can we hurry, please--children!" Finally, we fetched up against the entrance to the Hall of Audience, where Mablung exchanged a few low words with the Tower Guard who stood there before he admitted us.
I had been in the Hall of Audience a time or two before, on this errand or that for Faramir. The pillars, the immensity, the many colored traceries on the ceiling, the great throne with its helm-shaped canopy-- all were incredibly impressive and daunting in their magnificence when empty. When the Hall was filled to overflowing, as it was today, the effect was almost overwhelming, though in truth, the crowd was not as colorful as in previous days. The centermost portion of the hall was a sea of sable and silver, the men of the City Guard, with a smaller contigent wearing the winged helms of the Tower Guard. Ranged upon either side of them were Riders of Rohan in their green and white, and the Swan Knights of Dol Amroth in blue and silver. In front of the Riders was the entire company of the Rangers of Ithilien in green and brown, a small group by comparison, whilst a similar sized group of seafaring types stood to the fore of the Swan Knights.
This court, unlike those of the previous days, had been called solely so that the King could recognize the valor of all those who had fought and helped him gain his throne, and the peacock presence of the courtiers was much reduced. The courtyard outside the Citadel, and the streets surrounding it were filled with the kin of the soldiers who stood within, and from time to time heralds would venture forth to relate to the crowds the list of honors as they were announced within. Cheers would rise outside throughout the day, whenever a particularly popular warrior was named.
Up upon the dias, however, many great personages were present. The King,clad in his jet black mail and white cloak, looked magnificent, the Elfstone at his throat, the winged helm on his head and his sword across his knees. Upon either side of him were two thrones set, and upon them sat King Eomer of Rohan, looking like a god of olden times in gold-washed mail and a golden circlet and Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, like unto an Elf lord in his shining silver armor, and a circlet of sapphires and crystal upon his dark hair. To either side of the dias were other notables seated--the sons of Elrond, Elf lords indeed, also martially clad, sat with certain grim looking members of the Grey Company.
Prince Imrahil's family was there in its entirety save for his second son Elchirion, who had, report made it, returned home to see to business upon the coast. I got my first look at his oldest son and heir, Elphir, also mail-clad for the occaision, and thought he resembled his sire greatly. He was seated between his sister Lothiriel and a sweet-faced young woman in Dol Amroth blue and a gemmed circlet who I suspected might be his wife. Prince Amrothos was on Princess Lothiriel's other side initially, until about an hour into the court. Then he moved back to the second rank of nobles to escape her jabbing elbow and hissed admonitions, displacing a less exalted person so he could read the book he'd brought with him in peace. I saw his father give him a raised eyebrow and a wry look, but he did not attempt to stop him.
Eowyn was there too, dressed in white, seated in a throne-like chair beside her brother. Many lords and Marshals of the Mark gathered about them, including the Marshal of the Riders. Lord Hurin stood close at hand, and in chairs close to the King's throne, sat another Elf, pale-haired and clad in misty green and silver, and a dwarf with a fierce red beard and some truly magnificent armor. I realized that they must be Legolas and Gimli, the Companions of the Ring that everyone had heard so much about. After a time, I saw a head peering over the arm of the King's throne and realized that the perian, Pippin, was waiting upon him, clad in the uniform of the Tower Guard, and that indeed, Merry was present as well in the livery of the Mark, waiting upon Eomer and Eowyn. Of Mithrandir, or Frodo and Samwise, there was no sign.
Faramir was sitting, when he had the opportunity to sit, which was seldom for he was helping to orchestrate the whole affair, in his Steward's chair on the bottom step, which had been moved to one side to expedite the flow of people to and from the King. He had put on dark green for the occaision to honor his Rangers, in place of his habitual black, though it was trimmed in black and silver, and his valet or someone had managed to make his hair look reasonably tidy for once. Mablung eventually got us to the front ranks of the Rangers, arguably one of the best places in the house, and Faramir, when he saw us there the next time he looked that direction, acknowledged us with a quick smile and a small wave of his hand close to the body. He looked busy and happy and proud, and I couldn't help but be happy for him, with a King he respected to love and serve, and his lady close at hand. Not to mention the honor I knew was going to come his way before the day was out. I hugged my secret knowledge to myself, but I have ever been somewhat transparent, and Mablung knew that something was up.
"Heth, you look like a cat licking its whiskers clean of cream," he informed me severely. "What's going on?"
"I happen to know something that you don't for a change, Mablung, and I'm enjoying it."
"You going to tell us?"
"No, I gave my word I wouldn't. And it's not like this has ever happened to me before. I'm going to savor it while it lasts."
"I see. Well, at least one of us is enjoying herself."
But even the anticipation of what was to come was not enough to keep me from being bored with the proceedings in the end. There were several hundred of us in there, and the King made a point of speaking to each one individually, and many received material rewards, or promotions of some sort. He started with the City Guard, and had worked through a good portion of them by an hour past noon, when a recess was called so that the royal personage could get lunch and refresh himself. It looked as though to work through the entire lot of us was going to take the rest of the day, and into the night, but it seemed ungrateful to complain when the King had to do the most work of any of us.
When the recess was called, about half the soldiers within made their way outside to find family members who had brought food, or to find a nearby tavern. The other half, most probably the ones who had reason to believe they'd be called soon after court was resumed remained. Those were almost all City Guard, and stood talking amongst themselves. It was time to discuss lunch arrangements.
"Mablung, Lorend and I are still living here in the Citadel. We can get you into the servants'dining hall with us, if you want." I told him. Much to my surprise, his cheeks got a little red for the second time that morning.
"I'm taken care of, lass. You and the lad fend for yourselves, and I'll join you afterward." And with no further ado, he melted into the crowd. Lorend and I looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
"Now that," Lorend declared, "almost cries out for a bit of stealthy reconnaisance." He looked over my shoulder at something, and paled suddenly. "Particularly since I see your drinking companion and her very large, very royal brother headed our way! I'll see what I can find out. Catch you later, Heth!" And he too did the Ranger fading trick and vanished. I turned, and rather to my surprise, saw Eowyn coming towards me, the King of Rohan in tow.
"Hethlin! How are you? I want you to meet my brother!" She held no grudge about our last encounter, I was glad to see. I bowed to her, and lower still to the King.
"My lady. My lord king." Eomer of Rohan was as fair as his sister--in, of course, an extremely vigorous, masculine and virile fashion, and his eyes were a bright, hot blue. He took my hand in his, and gave it a firm squeeze. I suspected what would be expected of me in return, and squeezed back as hard as I was able. He grinned, opened my hand and examined it, then looked me up and down as if he were assessing my better points. Somewhat to my surprise, I realized he was not at all displeased with what he saw by any means.
"She's got a good grip, sister," he said approvingly. "And a pretty mane. I like greys." Eowyn rolled her eyes. I took a chance.
"Perhaps the King would like to check my teeth while he's about it?" Eomer's laughter rang out loudly, and several people looked our way. I saw the Princess Lothiriel give our group a look of commingled longing and jealousy.
"Oh, you were right about her, 'Wyn! A Gondorrim who speaks her mind! I must see more of this rarity! But over lunch. We've not much time before Aragorn reconvenes, so let's go, and see if we cannot return the favor she did you by keeping you well-supplied with beer against my return." I blanched a little at the prospect of a lunch where I was expected to keep pace with the beer consumption of the royal house of Rohan, a test I'd already failed miserably, but was given no choice. Eomer threw one long arm about his sister's waist, the other about mine, and carried us off with no further ado.
So rather to my amazement, instead of the servants' hall, I found myself at the lunch which had been prepared for the royalty of Rohan, who were all seated in a chamber to themselves. Eowyn sat on Eomer's right hand, while I had the left-hand seat. Merry was not present--perhaps he had gone to eat with the other hobbits. The King saw to it that my glass was kept full, and that choice bits found their way to my plate, as was the guest custom in his land. I was careful in my turn to keep my beer consumption to small sips, and sat for a long time simply listening to the rolling cadences of their language. Eomer noted my interest.
"Do you speak our tongue at all, lady?"
"No, sire. My father did somewhat. I grew up in Anorien. I love the way it sounds, but I only know a few words."
"The bad ones," Eowyn added, rather unnecessarily, I thought. She'd had a couple of tankards by now, but was being outpaced by her brother, who nonetheless looked absolutely unchanged. The king grinned.
"Oh really? Which ones?" I turned beet red, and it wasn't from the beer.
"Come lady, whisper them in my ear. I'll tell no one." His blue eyes met mine challengingly, and I lifted my chin and decided to brazen it out. His golden hair tickled my nose as I murmured softly into his ear, as concisely and coolly as I could. He chortled, a deep, rich sound.
"You have a good accent."
"So I've been told, my lord king."
"But you need some more words for your collection. Allow me." And he murmured a couple of phrases into my ear in return. Eowyn looked at her brother suspiciously.
"Eomer, what did you say to her?" The king shrugged, grinned, and addressed himself to his plate. Eowyn got out of her chair, and came to my shoulder.
"Hethlin, what did he say to you?" She bent down, and I murmured the words to her as closely as I could remember, whereupon she immediately turned and punched her brother in the arm. He simply laughed.
"What did he say, Eowyn?" I suspected it was as vile as the words I already knew, and Eowyn's response confirmed this.
"I can't tell you that--it would damage diplomatic relations between Gondor and Rohan! How could you, Eomer! She's Aragorn's kinswoman, for Valar's sake!"
"He might actually think it a good idea. Bind our two nations closer, and all that."
"Not what you proposed, brother!" And she sat back down and sipped her beer broodingly. Eomer gave her a smile, then turned to me, and said something out loud this time.
"There, Eowyn, translate that if you would." She gave him a smouldering look, and he chuckled.
"This time, he says he thanks you for all your kindnesses on my behalf, and he's glad to discover that Gondor too, has fell and pretty shield maidens."
"Thank you, my lord king." I inclined my head politely. "Where is the Lord Faramir, lady?" I asked Eowyn, hoping to make Eomer's prank forgotten.
"He had too much to do to join us for lunch, though he promises to be present at dinner," she answered, her face softening with a fond smile. It looked as if things were going well on the courtship front, at least. We discussed some of the plans for the immediate future, Eomer's return to Rohan with his sister and the eventual return of King Theoden's body.
"Do you think you'll be able to come to Rohan when we bring Theoden King home?" Eowyn asked me. "You had said that you'd like to do that."
"It depends on what the King has planned for me. I'll know more after today, I suspect. Oh--I nearly forgot to tell you! The Prince of Dol Amroth gave me a horse yesterday, Eowyn!" And from that point on, the conversation became a very equine one, with the king and anyone nearby who could speak Westron chipping in their opinions on the merits of the Dol Amroth bloodline. It seemed all too short a time before the bell signalling the resumption of court rang out, and we returned to the Hall of Audience.
"Did you get enough beer, lady?" Eomer asked with a grin as we moved into the Hall. Eowyn had been telling tales, it seemed. I smiled sweetly back at him.
"As much as I could handle, my lord. Unlike some people, I don't have a nice throne to sit upon if I start to tilt a bit to one side." He laughed again, declared himself charmed, clapped me on the back so hard that I staggered a bit, and made his way back to his throne. I rejoined the Rangers, suffering the inevitable commentary and speculation on exactly how I'd spent my lunch hour. Stud jokes amused the Company for a half hour or so, but people were careful to keep them quiet, conscious of the Riders all too close to hand. Then things settled down once more into quiet boredom, interspersed with occaisional enthusiasm when a Guardsman was recognized that the Rangers knew personally. There was a continual movement of folk in and out of the hall, to take the air, or for other reasons. I quite admired the King, who for hour after hour greeted his men with the exact same air of quiet gratitude and interest without respite, never flagging or seeming to grow tired, giving each one a personal memory of their sovereign that they could carry happily to the end of their lives.
The King finally worked his way through the City Guard, and King Eomer began making presentations to certain of his men, speaking in both Rohirric and Westron, so that all could understand. He had a lovely deep voice, and was a good speaker, a charismatic leader, if not quite so imposing as Aragorn. He was some ways into his presentations, when I realized something.
"Mablung, did the King give anything to Beregond of the Guard? Did I miss it?"
Mablung pondered a moment. He had reappeared as inexplicably as he'd left, and had managed to give Lorend the slip in the process.
"I don't think so, Heth, now that you mention it. I was waiting for that, because of what he did for the Captain and all."
"You don't think the King is punishing him for leaving his post, do you? I'd hate to think of him locked in a dungeon somewhere."
"Don't think that's Aragorn's style, Heth. Besides, he wasn't upset with Beregond when we were marching on the Black Gate. My guess is he'll do something for him quietly, since he did break the rules. Now--have you given any thought to the resupply for Henneth-Annun?" And we spent the next little bit discussing business--rosters, supplies, patrol routes. I found it all quite engrossing, and the next time we bothered to watch the proceedings, it was late in the afternoon, the Rohirrim were finished with their presentations, and the Prince of Dol Amroth was introducing his notable warriors to the King. Mablung snorted.
"Looks like he's saving the best for last. Lucky us, huh?" I was personally unsurprised--Faramir's crowning would be the high point of the day, and the King would undoubtedly leave it for the end. Though for my part, the strain of waiting to see if he would confirm my captaincy was beginning to wear upon me.
Another, shorter recess was called at dusk. Court was clearing out somewhat. Many of the City Guardsmen who'd been recognized had reunited with their families and returned home for the evening, and some of the Riders had returned to their camps. The Swan Knights remained in force, however, and some of the usual collection of courtiers were slipping in, now that the concentration of commoners was going down. I looked at the extreme variation of the dresses the ladies wore in bemusement.
"I don't think I'll ever understand fashion." I told Mablung. He grimaced.
"I think it mostly gives silly women who don't have enough important work in their lives something to do. Silly men, too." And he pointed out a minstrel with the most amazing sleeves. There was quite a clot of color about the Prince of Dol Amroth, and I asked Mablung about it.
"Butterflies around the honey pot, Heth, butterflies around the honey pot. The man's a widower, and the richest man in the kingdom. It's always like that when he comes to court."
"Surely the King is richer?"
"Nay. The King has a lot of rebuilding to do. Dol Amroth is unscathed, and they've been taking in harbor fees and tariffs from that port of theirs for centuries. Not to mention all that incredible farmland the Prince has down around Belfalas. But I'm sure Imrahil will front Aragorn a loan if he asks for it." He looked at the ladies and grinned. "He's too fast on his feet for the lot of you, lasses! Been doing this dance for a couple of decades now!" I laughed to think of all the dissappointed ladies, and the bell to reconvene rang. The flood of color around Prince Imrahil receeded, and he resumed his throne with quick celerity. The King, who had come in right before the bell, leaned over to him and said something. Imrahil laughed, and answered, and the King sat up, grinning. Then, Aragorn's glance moved across the room, and fell, to my surprise, upon me. He looked at me for a moment, and the grin faded. A thoughtful expression replaced it, and I shivered a bit.
"What's the King giving you the eye for, Hethlin?" asked Lorend, persisting in his usual habit of extreme perception at exactly the wrong time.
"Probably figuring out if he's going to simply hang me, or skin me first."
"Whatever for, lass? You've done nothing to him. Never even met the man." said Mablung, giving Aragorn a quizzical stare in return, but the King was now speaking to Eomer of Rohan.
"Oh, yes I have." When the two of them turned to me in surprise, I gave them the tale of my encounter with Ranger Captain Thorongil. Mablung groaned when I came to the part about Isildur.
"Oh, Heth, you didn't!"
"I surely did!" I exclaimed, irritated all over again at my stupidity. "Though it was the way I felt at the time, and truth to tell, I still feel that way."
"But to tell him that--"
"I didn't know he was the King!"
"But you knew he was a member of the Grey Company, and for all you knew was Aragorn's sworn sword-brother or something. That lot hangs together real tight, they do."
"Fine, Mablung, I've doomed myself. You don't have to rub it in." I crossed my arms in disgust. Lorend appeared much taken with a sudden thought.
"Hmmmm-does that mean your captaincy is up for grabs, Heth?" Both Mablung and I gave him simultaneous, quelling stares. He grinned somewhat defensively.
"Just asking."
Finally, as dusk deepened into night, the Rangers' turn came, and Faramir stood on the steps below the throne and brought before the King for his approbation all of our friends and comrades. After waiting all day and part of the night for our turn, we were not civilised--we whooped and cheered, drawing the disdainful glances of the ever-increasing crowd of courtiers, and amused looks from Eomer, Elrohir and Imrahil. Damrod, Anborn, Lorend and all the others went up in their turn. Lorend came back down after his interview, shaking his head and whistling in admiration.
"He's something, isn't he?"
When Mablung and I were the only two left, Faramir indicated that the two of us should approach the royal presence together. Mablung gave me a steadying touch on the elbow as we started forward. It seemed to me that a silence had fallen, though I'm sure that was just my anxiety, and people were talking amongst themselves as they had all day. My bootheels on the pavement sounded loud as drums, and my heart seemed not much quieter. We mounted the steps, and bowed when directed, and stood before the King, who rose from his throne and approached Mablung.
"Captain, your deeds on our journey to the Black Gate, and after our arrival there, by themselves have gained you much reknown, and are deserving of much reward. But my Lord Steward has also said much of your years of daring and faithful service to the kingdom of Gondor. It pleases me to confirm you as Captain of the South Ithilien Ranger Company, and to give you a portion of that which you have defended so well." Pippin brought forward a brooch, which the King pinned onto Mablung's shoulder, and a piece of parchment sealed with the King's seal, which proved to be a land grant of generous size, and good quality, close to Emyn Arnyn. Mablung's eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, obviously much moved.
"The King is generous," he husked, but Aragorn merely shook his head.
"The King merely rewards that which is deserving of reward." And he leaned forward, and embraced Mablung, who then bowed to him once more, and took a step backward down one of the steps. Then he turned to me.
"My lady Hethlin--you have the most interesting set of advocates! The Lord Steward, the White Lady of Rohan, Lord Hurin, Prince Imrahil, this gentleman here, my foster brothers Elrohir and Elladan--" he shot an ironic glance in Elrohir's direction, and Elrohir simply smiled in response, and made an equally ironic bow from his chair. "All of them your devout adherents, and all of them eager to preach to me of your many talents and abilities. Your loyalty. Your courage. Your horsemanship. Your skill with a bow. And so forth and so on. I myself know firsthand of your unique persepective on the ancient history of our people." The greys eyes beneath that imposing helm were twinkling a bit, but I cast mine down, and bowed my head in dismay.
"Your deeds on the Pelennor, and your long and faithful service make you deserving of this," and he pressed into my hand a parchment like unto Mablung's. "You will find the land every bit as good, and hard by your old friend's, here. Quite suitable for horses, I believe. I trust that does not displease you?"
"No, Sire," I said, finally looking up and meeting his eyes once again. He nodded approval.
"Good. Now, as to other matters--I am not going to confirm you in the Captaincy of North Ithilien." Both Mablung and Faramir started to speak, but he forestalled them with an imperious gesture of his hand.
"Not because of any lack on your part, nor any lack of faith on mine. The Steward feels you could do the job, you feel you could do the job, and so do I. But I foresee needing your service in another capacity entirely in the future, and you do not yet have the skills you will require for that. And as yet, I do not have the staff here in Minas Tirith to give you the instruction you need. So I needs must rely upon another of my most trusted vassals. Prince Imrahil!"
The Prince raised an eyebrow. "Sire?"
"Attend us, please." The Prince rose from his throne and came to the King's side. There was a muttering from the Rangers, and the rest of the crowd. The King's words had been too low to be heard by the audience, but Imrahil's presence alerted them that something unusual was going on.
"Your court is the most cultured and civilized in Gondor. This lady is my kinswoman from afar, and as such, has a place within the royal court. But, through no fault of her own, she lacks...polish. And though her martial skills are formidable, I judge they could be improved. Would you be willing to take her as an esquire, and train her up to be a Swan Knight?"
Mablung and Faramir looked at each other, nonplussed. I looked at the King in disbelief, not sure how to feel. A Swan Knight? I truly wanted to go back to my friends in Ithilien, and resume my life there as a Ranger. But the Swan Knights were the finest mounted warriors in the kingdom....Prince Imrahil was regarding me thoughtfully.
"I would not be adverse, Sire, if that is your wish. Though there has never been a woman among my company."
"Whether she actually becomes a Swan Knight or not, I trust you, my friend, to teach her the many things she will need to know." Imrahil nodded assent, and the King turned his attention back to me.
"I know that this is not how you would have wished things to go, Hethlin, but I ask you to bear with me. Swear fealty to Prince Imrahil now, and study with him for two years, and at the end of that time, should you desire to return to Ithilien, I will grant your request. Will you do this thing for me?"
What else could I do? I nodded my assent. "Yes, Sire, if that is your wish." So he bade me kneel, and set my hands between the Prince's, and swear the oath. I felt myself shaking a little because of the long day, the stress of waiting or dissappointment--I was not sure which. And my hands must have been cold as ice, for the Prince started, then gave me a sympathetic look as he took them in his own. We each repeated our part of the formula, Faramir giving me a prompt when necessary, for it was not something I'd ever studied, or magined needing to do. His face was unreadable. Imrahil then helped me up and gave me a ceremonial embrace.
"Come now child, it won't be as bad as all that!" he murmured in my ear before he released me, then indicated that I should follow him to where his family sat, and take Prince Amrothos' deserted chair. Princess Lothiriel gave me a frankly curious look as I sat down.
There was a dangerous muttering amongst the Company as I took my seat with the Dol Amroth contingent. The King raised his eyebrows, and his voice, which carried throughout the hall.
"You didn't like that, did you?" he asked the Rangers, who immediately became very quiet. "You certainly are an insubordinate lot! You question my decisions, you abduct my very kinsmen......." Of a sudden, his voice cracked like a whip. "All of you, up here, right now! Form up here!" And his hand pointed to the foot of the stairs. "Captain Mablung, take command of these miscreants!" Mablung bowed, and started down the stairs--I could tell he was somewhat worried, but trusting of the King, and willing to wait upon events. The Rangers, who were far more worried, shuffled forward mumbling into a formation of sorts. Close-order marching was not an art much practised in Ithilien. Faramir started to say something to the King, but Aragorn stopped him with a shake of his head.
Once they had formed up, the King looked down upon them with a grim expression.
"Let us see if I can make some decisions you will not question, then. Summon forth Beregond of the Guard." And Beregond was brought forth, and made to kneel before the King, since this was a matter of judgement, and not reward. The King regarded him gravely, and the rest of us looked upon the King in bafflement, for we had no idea where he was going with this.
"Beregond, by your sword was blood spilled in the Hallows, where that is forbidden. Also, you left your post without leave of Lord or Captain. For these things, of old, death was the penalty. Now therefore I must pronounce your doom."
"All penalty is remitted for your valour in battle, and still more because all that you did was for the love of the Lord Faramir. Nonetheless, you must leave the Guard of the Citadel, and you must go forth from the City of Minas Tirith." Those of Beregond's friends in the Tower Guard, who had remained to see what would become of him, groaned in disbelief and misery, and the Guardsman himself bowed his head, grief-stricken. I saw the Prince Elphir pull a wooden casket from beneath his chair, rise slowly and go to give it to his father, both of them grinning like fools. Beside me, Princess Lothiriel was bouncing slightly in her chair.
"So must it be, for you are apppointed to the White Company, the Guard of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, and you shall be its captain and dwell in Emyn Arnen in honour and in peace, and in the service of him for whom you risked all, to save him from death." Prince Imrahil rose from his throne once more, and came to the King, opening the casket. There were servants busy on the dias, setting another throne beside Eomer's, or more precisely, next to Eowyn's chair. Beregond, still kneeling, kissed the King's hand joyfully, then bowed and departed after a loving look at Faramir, who was standing with a look of puzzlement upon his face.
"Sire?' he asked bemusedly, and Aragorn smiled suddenly.
"My Lord Steward, get thee up here, and kneel." Faramir did so slowly, and his face was somewhat pale. Absolute silence had fallen over the hall. When Faramir had done as he was bidden, Aragorn looked down upon him with great solemnity, while he looked up with what seemed to be trepidation.
"As you know, Lord Faramir, I had the good fortune to travel with and fight beside your brother Lord Boromir for a time, and found him to be both valorous and honorable. But the greatest of his traits besides his valor and honor, was his unswerving devotion to and love of Gondor, a trait which is matched in his younger brother. Had it not been for the two of you, and your stalwart defence of this realm, I would not have had a throne to return to. And you are but the latest in the long line of your House to protect and preserve Gondor. I have been King but a few days, so hopefully none will call me laggard if I only now reward you as you so richly merit." He reached into the casket and pulled out an intricately carved circlet set with beryls and crystal, holding it above Faramir's dark head.
"Take thou Ithilien to be thy princedom, Faramir, thou and thine heirs, to this kingdom's end," the King intoned formally, and set the circlet upon his head.
A roar of approval erupted from the Rangers, and it was answered with thunderous acclamation from the rest of the court, that only grew the louder as people further away from the dias discovered what had transpired, for Faramir had always been much beloved by the people of the City. I very much wished to leap to my feet and shout with them, and even started to get up, but remembered me in time that I was among the high folk on the dias, and sank back into my chair. Lothiriel looked at me, her eyes twinkling, and suddenly leaped to her feet, hauling me up by the arm, whereupon the two of us jumped up and down and shouted to our hearts' content. Even Prince Amrothos laid down his book, and stood up, lending his voice to the din.
After a moment, Aragorn raised Faramir up and embraced him, then he was embraced in turn by his uncle and his cousin Elphir, and Lothiriel, who abandoned all dignity and flung herself upon him bodily. King Eomer arose to offer his congratulations, and Eowyn, whom he embraced and kissed quite publicly, his face having gone from pale to quite flushed, and his eyes sparkling. Aragorn said something to him quietly, and he nodded and smiled, and finally, he was allowed to make his way to his new throne and seat himself, to another roar of approval. When the tumult had died down, Aragorn finally concluded the business of his court with a public acknowledgement of the service that Eomer had given him; then, acting as his own herald, announced that his court was now over, "--pending, of course, the approval of the Ithilien Rangers!"
That gained him another roar, and not a little abashed laughter, and the Hall became a milling confusion of people seeking their dinner, or gathering together in knots to discuss the day's events. I stood, uncertain exactly what I should do, or when my service started. Prince Imrahil, seeing my confusion, came over to me.
"An hour after noon tomorrow, I'll send someone to help you bring your things to my house, lady. Until then, by all means, celebrate with your friends! Unless the day's events have rendered you unable to celebrate?" He looked genuinely concerned.
"Oh no, my lord prince, as I told you yesterday, Prince Faramir's elevation is well-deserved, and I am very happy for him."
"And your own situation?" he inquired gently. I smiled, but feared it was a somewhat sickly effort.
"The King is far older and wiser than I, and as his subject, I am obligated to serve him in whatever way he deems best." Prince Imrahil winced at my evident unhappiness.
"Hopefully, Aragorn's wisdom will be made manifest in time."
"I am certain that it will, my liege." And I bowed to him, and departed, for I had noticed Lorend and Mablung looking for me, and it occurred to me suddenly that I did not wish to be found, that I was in fact, very tired of the City and people about me, and a campfire with Rangers about me was not much better. It also occurred to me, as I gave Lorend the slip through passageways in the Citadel that we knew equally well, but that I could travel faster having two good legs, that I was very, very tired of being a good sport about Lord Faramir, and very, very dissappointed about my captaincy, and if I remained in the company of my friends this evening, I was either going to break down in tears, or say things I would regret for the rest of my life.
So I made my way through the service alleys to Lord Imrahil's house, and his stables, and my horse, whom I fed a handful of grain to, and saddled him swiftly. I then rode forth by the less-crowded back streets, down out of the City and onto the Pelennor, seeking solitude and the stars.