Author's Note--Dwimordene had a summary for her latest chapter of Roots (highly recommended, Aragorn fans!) that described it as "character development in Fits and Starts. Which is pretty much what we have here as well. And it sure came in fits and starts! Sorry about the long wait, and I promise Chapter 22 will be more......lively?
Now for the Important Stuff--the results of the Who Should Heth Nest With Poll! I must say I was flattered by all the people who made the effort to vote, and touched by their fervent defense of their choices! The final results are as follows:
In first place, a tie with 21 points each--Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and Captain Mablung of the Ithilien Rangers!
In a close second place finish, with 20 points--Prince Elrohir of Imladris!
In third place, with 15 points (a respectable showing for a young man who hasn't been seen that much!)--Prince Amrothos of Dol Amroth!
In fourth place, with 8 points--the quieter but still mischievous Prince Elladan of Imladris!
In fifth place, with 6 points--the Lady Eowyn of Rohan!
The following received votes totaling 3 points each--Faramir, Tedryn of Morthond (the archer who helped Heth back to Minas Tirith), Elladan and Elrohir as a threesome with Heth, Prince Imrahil's Armsmaster Andrahar, and A Rohirrim, Any Rohirrim.
Oh yes, and Lorend got a point too.
Thanks to everyone who voted, and apologies in advance, for the poll basically tells me that whoever Heth ends up with is going to make two-thirds of you unhappy! Hopefully, you'll forgive me and keep reading anyway!--Isabeau of Greenlea
What can I say--Eowyn beat me by two lengths. Of course, I defended Fortune's honor by pointing out to her that I was twenty pounds heavier than she and wearing a hauberk as well. She just patted my hand where it rested on the reins and consoled me by saying that even if he couldn't run, she was sure Fortune danced as prettily as the rest of the Dol Amroth horses. I responded with the other of the phrases her brother had taught me at lunch, and she grinned, and looked down, and said that she'd like to oblige, but wasn't properly equipped. I made a mental note to find out what those phrases really meant before using them again. Then, being sensible women, we let the matter lie, and walked our mounts out.
There had been much cheering as we raced, and some of the spectators threw Eowyn flowers as we returned back to the others, for they knew she was the slayer of the Witch-King, and they loved her. She smiled and waved, golden and lovely in the sun, and I thought it nice that she had such a moment, after so much unhappiness. I imagined Faramir was feeling slightly bereft back in Minas Tirith, deprived of both his betrothed and his uncle.
"You did rather well," that self-same uncle said when I had returned to the vanguard. "You gave her quite a weight advantage. And Fortune was not bred to be a race horse." He looked over at the King of Rohan, as if expecting him to make some sort of jibe, but Eomer was deep in conversation with Lothiriel. Eowyn looked at them for a moment in surprise, then reined her horse over to Elladan and Elrohir, and began talking with them. Imrahil turned his attention back to me.
"How are you and my nephew getting along since the other day?" he asked quietly, so the others could not hear.
"I had not seen him until this morning, my lord prince, and he was friendly enough."
"Faramir has a good heart, Hethlin. Did you really think he would end your friendship if he discovered you had feelings for him?" I gave him an irritated look.
"Of course I did, sir, or I wouldn't have tried to go to so much trouble to keep it secret!" I muttered. "And I think I was doing a pretty good job of it, no matter what Prince Elrohir said!" I caught a glimpse of an Elven eye turned in my direction for a moment, and cursed Elven ears mentally.
"And now that he does know, how do you feel?" the Prince inquired gently.
"Relieved, in a way," I admitted. "I don't have to watch and measure everything I say and do. And maybe the King was wiser than I thought--I think going to Ithilien might have been harder than I originally believed. But I still wish he didn't know. Or at least, that he hadn't found out in such a way."
Imrahil grimaced. "We noble lords did not exactly cover ourselves with glory on that day, did we?" I made a noncommittal sort of noise in reply, and said nothing more for a long time after that.
About five miles out of the City, Prince Imrahil suggested to his daughter that she might want to be going back. She agreed to do so, in a pretty show of daughterly obedience, and wished the King a polite farewell, which he returned with a smile. Eomer then rode ahead with the Prince for a while, the two of them talking intently about something. I wondered if they were bargaining about the horse, or discussing his daughter's finer points.
We made thirty miles the first day, which put us about twenty miles out the Anorien Gate, between the Grey Wood, and Amon Din, and by the end of the day, I felt every single foot of it. Eowyn, who had been my companion for most of the day, was even worse off, for she had been sedentary far longer than I. Only the fact that she'd been literally born to the saddle saved her from the ignominy of finishing the day in one of the supply wagons, but our conversation, which had been so cheerful in the morning, fell off to the occasional muttered curse by the time the halt was called. She did work on my Rohirric vocabulary with me--I learned the meaning of the phrases her brother had taught me, which were indeed every bit as vile as the ones Mablung used, and several new curses, the words for "raw",. "sore", "chafed", "tired", "exhausted" and the phrase for "wretched, beer-swilling, son-of-a-mare of a brother who doesn't know when to call a halt, for Valar's sake!".
Fortunately for us, by the time we'd picketed, fed, watered and groomed our mounts, the efficient Riders had set camp, built fires, put up tents, and started cooking. When we came to the royal encampment, we found that roasting meat was on the spit, soon to come off, and that the kegs of beer had already been broached. Eowyn and I sat down rather gingerly by the campfire, and were forced to endure the jests of the other Riders in consequence. King Eomer told me of a highly recommended unguent for chafes and weary muscles that he happened to have in his possession, and volunteered to apply it to my affected areas personally. I politely declined, and ate my supper, and listened to the Riders, who, after they had some food and beer in them, began to sing again. I listened hard, picking up the occasional word I knew, and wondered how long it would take to master the language in full. Truthfully, it was a lovely sounding tongue--aside from the way it lent itself to invective!
Eowyn and I, being the only ladies, had actually been given a tent to ourselves, and after supper, we were informed that hot water was being prepared for us to wash up. Eowyn asked if I would like to go first, and though it seemed discourteous to precede the princess, I said I would like to. It had occurred to me that the first one washed could slide into bed and preserve her privacy, while the second one would be bathing with the first one in the tent, unless the first one chose to leave again. So I scampered into the tent, washed off quickly, changed into clean breeches and a shirt, and stuck my head back out to tell her I was done.
When she came in, I was already in my bedroll, and turned my back to her politely so she could bathe. There was much splashing of water in washbasin, then she asked, "Hethlin, are you still awake?"
"Aye, my lady."
"Do you like my brother?"
"Aye, I think he's funny. Why?"
"Because I think he likes you. I'd much rather have you for a sister than one of those court ladies--even that cousin of Faramir's. Think of the possibilities--we could terrorize Minas Tirith together!" There was a sound of fabric moving over skin--she was toweling off.
"You know why that can't happen, Eowyn. Besides, I'm the matchmaker here!"
"I thought you might be going to Lorien to have your....difficulty taken care of. I thought perhaps Lord Elrohir had arranged it."
"He's going to try to arrange it for me, though even if he does, we are not certain the Elves could do anything about it. But that's not why I'm going to Lorien, and I can't tell you any more about the reason for the trip."
"I suppose it's the King's business, since you're in courier garb, and the Prince is with you as well," she said sagely. "And I will not press you further. But I meant what I said. I think you'd make a good Queen of Rohan. And my brother is a good man."
"That's not what you were saying this afternoon!"
"Those were my saddle-sores talking, and you know it!'
"I know, Eowyn. And your brother is a very good man. He's handsome, and brave and very loving, judging by how he feels about you. A woman could do far, far worse."
"Well, he could do far worse than you as well."
"What?" I scoffed, " Even with my terrible head for drink?"
"That is something of a shortcoming," she conceded gravely, "but your other good qualities do outweigh it."
"Glad I am to hear that! And to think the boys in the Beacon Hills thought I'd never amount to anything!" I chuckled. There was an answering quiet laugh, then some moving around and rustling for a few moments.
"There, I'm decent," she said. I rolled gingerly over to find her lowering herself with equal care onto her bedroll. "I'm not Dunadan, and therefore can't claim to be foresighted like my betrothed, but I get the feeling that tomorrow is going to be very painful!" she groaned.
"Well, I am a Dunadan, and my foresight tells me your feeling is absolutely right! Good night, Eowyn."
"And a good night to you as well, Hethlin."
The next morning was every bit as bad as we thought it was. Both of us stretched in the tent before we went out, but our stiffness was still quite apparent, and once again we were subject to the mockery of the Riders. Prince Imrahil, however, was more genuinely concerned.
"Hethlin, are you going to be able to do this?" he asked me quietly. "Perhaps the King should have considered more carefully--it's only been a few days since you were assaulted."
"Aye, my lord, but I've had the advantage of Elven healing." And I rolled up my sleeve and showed him my arm wound, which was scabbed over and healing quite cleanly. I bandaged it now before putting on my hauberk merely to protect it from rubbing. "My problem isn't the assault, it's that I haven't ridden this hard or this far in a while. I'll suffer today, but I guarantee you sir, I'll start feeling better tomorrow. And I'll be able to keep up, never you fear."
"In a way, this trip is a good thing. By the time we get back from it, I'll be fit enough to start training at Dol Amroth. And I'm beginning to think that trying to second-guess the King about anything is a bad idea!" Imrahil laughed, admitted I had a point, and went off to see to his horse. I could hear Eomer and Eowyn having a quiet argument in Rohirric--I didn't know enough words to be able to tell what was going on by translation, but he'd gestured towards the wagons a time or two, and she'd shaken her head vehemently, so the context was clear enough. Eventually, she came over to get her breakfast, grumbling under her breath.
"Tried to make you ride in the wagons, did he?" I asked, amused. She favored me with her narrow-eyed stare.
"Indeed he did! As if saddle-sores ever killed anyone! How does he think I'm to get my seat back, sitting in a wagon? Of course it will hurt at first, but I'll get over it!"
I grinned. "Ah, but you are a frail flower of womanhood, and need protection!" The stare became a glare.
"Continue as you've begun, eagle-girl, and you'll get that sparring match I promised you weeks ago!" I laughed.
"Any time, horse-lady!" The two of us regarded each other for a moment as we chewed our breakfast, thinking about the prospect of violent physical effort during our current state of soreness. Finally Eowyn spoke.
"Tomorrow?" I nodded.
"That sounds good." After a moment's thought, I proposed, "The day after?" She nodded.
"That sounds even better." And we finished our breakfast in perfect amity.
We marched much harder and further that day, covering fifty miles before dusk fell and camp was set. Across the Road from our camp, to the south lay the Druadan Forest and the old beacon hill of Eilenach. On the morrow, we would pass the third beacon, Nardol, and thus come close to the lands I'd grown up in. Consequently, I was somewhat uneasy as night fell. Over supper, Eomer told Prince Imrahil, Elrond's sons and myself of the encounter with the Wild Men on the way to Minas Tirith, but though we heard the occasional distant rumble of drums in the night, none of those secretive folk showed themselves at the camp.
Eowyn was nodding over her supper, so I deferred to her in the order of washing up. After about half an hour, when she had not reappeared to tell me she was finished, I called softly into the tent, and getting no answer, went within to find her already sound asleep in her bedroll. A slight pungency to the air told me that she at least had availed herself of her brother's ointment. So I disposed of her wash water, got some for myself, cleaned up, and borrowed the magical unguent, though I did not avail myself of the royal applicator. Then I too gratefully sought my bed, thinking extreme weariness would guarantee a sound night's sleep.
But it was not to be. Deep in the night, I found myself trapped in one of those dreams where the dreamer is an impotent witness to some disaster, unable to change the outcome no matter how they try. I will not describe what I dreamed in any great detail--suffice it to say that I had often wondered what would have happened had I returned from the hunt in time to aid my father and mother, and in this dream I did so, but was unable to do aught but watch as they were slain. It was hardly the first time nightmares had driven me awake, but at least I did so quietly this time, merely sitting bolt upright with a loud gasp. I looked over at Eowyn, but she did not so much as stir, so deeply asleep was she.
I was trembling, and in a cold sweat, and did not think that sleep would be possible any time soon, so I pulled on my boots, and slipped silently out of the tent. All was quiet, and a light spring fog lay over the ground. I could hear sentries making the rounds, and champing and stomping from the direction of the horse lines, but nothing else. I went over to the fire pit, where embers were still glowing, added a couple of sticks of wood, and proceeded to try to poke it back up. After a bit, the wood caught, I added some larger pieces, then huddled over my handiwork to warm myself.
As I knelt there, I missed Faramir with a pain that was almost physical, for I knew that he would have been able to talk with me about the dream in a way that soothed me enough so that sleep could eventually come. When one is subject to occasional nightmares about a tragic past, having a commander who is himself prone to involuntary visions about age-old disasters is not necessarily a bad thing. I wondered how my infirmity would play among the Swan Knights.
A movement across the fire from me caught my eye, and I looked up and saw Elrohir standing there, his eyes hooded. He looked very alien and arcane, his features lit from below by the firelight, and said nothing for some moments, retreating back into the shadow, only to return with two camp chairs, and drag them close to the fire. One of them was Eomer's--intricately carved, with horses' heads decorating the ends of the arms. It was of throne-like proportions, and I suppose actually was the traveling throne of Rohan, but Elrohir dropped gracefully into it as one who had the divine right to be there. He gestured that I should take the other, and after a moment's hesitation, I did so.
*I felt your dream, Snowsteel.* came his voice softly in my head.
"I am sorry if I troubled your--" He interrupted me with an abrupt shake of the head.
*The other way, Snowsteel. After your little display in Minas Tirith, I think you can do it. Such gifts only grow stronger when used.* So I looked him in the eye, and suddenly was caught up in the starlight.
*I am.... sorry..... if I troubled your sleep.... my lord Prince.* Communicating in this way felt very strange. He flashed me a sudden grin.
*Very good, Snowsteel! Though you'll pardon me if I say your claim of contrition does not exactly ring true.*
*I'm still angry with you.* There, that was easier. Strong feelings were more easily expressed than complicated concepts.
*And rightly so,* he conceded. *Have I damaged your friendship with the Steward irreparably?*
*It's too early to tell yet. He seemed to be trying to reassure me that he wasn't going to stop being my friend the other day, when we said goodbye. But things may change later on--I just don't know.* Though it came slowly, I was able to get all of the speech out in a reasonably coherent fashion now.
*You have my apology, if that turns out to be the case.*
*With all due respect, my lord Prince, your apology would be small consolation.* I stood up and stretched, my abused muscles protesting strongly.
Elrohir rested his elbows on the arms of the throne, and templed his fingertips, regarding me broodingly.
*Would you go there, Snowsteel?*
*Where?*
*You know whereof I speak. Have you been there since it happened?* The blood chilled to ice in my veins.
"No," I whispered aloud, wrenching my eyes from him, suddenly unable to bear the contact. "No, I haven't."
"What happened to the bodies of your kin?" he asked quietly, using speech once more. I sat back down again wearily.
"Faramir sent Mablung and a party of Rangers to deal with them. It was kind of him, for as you can see, we lived nowhere near his patrol area, and he had to send enough of them that they'd be safe. It quite disrupted his schedule till they returned."
"Did you not go with them to lead the way?"
"No, for he sent them soon after he rescued me, and I was too ill to travel. I gave a description as best I could, and Mablung found the house, or so he said. From the sound of things, he got it right." I took a moment to swallow hard, then continued. "There was naught left but bones, in any event. He said they buried them all together in one large grave. As good a way of doing it as any, I suppose." Elrohir gave me what was, for him, a sympathetic look.
"But you have never actually seen where they were laid to rest?"
"Nay. The Enemy began to try our defenses more often after that, and there was no time and no men to spare for such a frivolous journey. After all, it was not as if they were going anywhere. And for a while there, it looked as if we'd all be joining them in graves ourselves." Elrohir sat up and leaned forward, elbows on knees.
"Yes, things did look a bit grim, didn't they? But there is time for such 'frivolity' now, Snowsteel. If Elladan were to lend you his horse, you and I could leave in the morning while he and the Prince proceeded with the army, and the day after we would be caught up with them again, and no time lost, for Elven steeds are surpassingly swift. It could be done, if you wished it so."
I heard this proposal with mixed emotions. Part of me did wish to see where and how my family had been disposed of, and part of me feared to go anywhere near the place, lest I be overwhelmed by the horror and sorrow of my memories. Finally, I said, "I would like to do so, but my time is not my own to spend. The Lord of Dol Amroth holds my sworn word, and he must give his leave first." Elrohir's eyes flashed in the firelight, and I caught a bit of rebellious anger through our link--the son of Elrond was not used to asking anyone for leave to do what he thought should be done--but after a moment, he nodded.
"Estel would not appreciate it, should I anger one of his great lords by abducting you." I snorted.
"A bit late to be coming to that understanding, after the way you treated the Steward when I was injured! But I supposed even an old Elf can learn new ways." Another spike of instantaneous offense through the link, followed by rueful amusement.
"I may have called myself an old fool to you once upon a time, Snowsteel, but I'll have you know that to some of my folk, I am quite the impetuous youth! A mere stripling, rash and wild!" He grinned that raffish grin suddenly, and in spite of myself, I had to smile.
"Goodness! Really? Such a possibility never occurred to me!"
"Yes, well, you've never seen my father in full cry! But I will speak to the Swan Prince in a few hours, and see if I can gain his consent. In the meantime, you need to get some rest--it is not all that long since you were ill."
"I do not think I can sleep yet."
"I can aid you with that, you know." I looked at him somberly.
"Actually, I would appreciate that." He nodded, and I was starting to rise from the chair to return to my tent when his two fingers touched my forehead as they'd done once before, and all went dark.
I was awakened by a hand shaking my shoulder vigorously. As I started up, the hand covered my mouth for a moment. I looked up and saw Eowyn, her eyes dancing, and a finger held to her lips. I nodded understanding, and she lowered her hand. Somehow, I had been transported back to my tent, and tucked into bed. I would have been willing to go there under my own power, and then have him aid me to sleep, but Elrohir had made the decision for me, as usual. I sighed quietly.
After a moment, I heard voices outside the tent. Judging from the direction, the speakers were close to the fire, probably eating breakfast.
"This has come up somewhat suddenly, my lord Elrohir," Prince Imrahil was saying. "Why did I hear nothing of this before now?"
"I do not believe Hethlin intended to tell you about it at all, my lord Prince. Nor myself. But she had a nightmare last night and woke me, and we spoke of it. Do you know, she is not even certain if the Rangers buried the right family? Apparently, there was more than one homestead in the area."
"I had no idea we were so close to the place. And I can certainly sympathize with Hethlin. But are we not under some pressure of time? Could this errand not wait upon our return? For it has waited near four years already."
"I do not know if we will be traveling the same route upon our return, my lord. It is likely, but not entirely certain. And if we do as I propose, no time will be lost."
"Ah yes, the Elven horses. Has your brother given his consent to this? And how safe do you think the two of you will be, riding out alone?"
"Elladan has agreed to lend Nimfaun to Hethlin. Of course, I haven't asked Nimfaun yet!" The Prince made a little snorting chuckle. "As to the other--I have wandered the Wilderland, alone and in my brother's company for the better part of two thousand years, and I am still here. There is nothing in Anorien for me to fear."
"Very well then. If you can do as you say, I give my assent." There was a moment's silence, then Imrahil spoke once more, and there was a warning in his tone. "With one condition."
"And that would be?"
"You said once that my nephew was the mule caught between two mangers. So I am sure you will not mind if I observe in turn that you seem very much like a man confronted with a rare dish whose flavor he is not sure that he likes. He tastes it and tastes it and tastes it yet again, finding in the end that he is still not certain if it is to his liking, but that there is nothing left for anyone else. I would rather that you not do that to my esquire."
"And is it because Hethlin is your esquire that you express your concern, or is there another reason?" Elrohir's voice had gone all silky-dangerous. Eowyn looked at me, her eyes wide. I shrugged my shoulders, having no idea where all this was going.
"There is no other reason. She is sworn to me, and she is of an age with Lothiriel. Anything else between us would be inappropriate," snapped Imrahil. Elrohir laughed.
"My lord prince, three-quarters of the maidens pursuing you at court are your daughter's age, and no one there thinks anything amiss. It has always been the prerogative of men of wealth and power to possess beauty and youth--even if they are not young themselves." Eowyn and I held our breath and waited for the explosion, but none came. Instead, suprisingly, Imrahil's reply was in the mildest of voices.
"Prince Elrohir, is it your desire that I take back my permission? Because if it is, you are certainly going about it the right way."
Elrohir backed down swiftly. "Then I shall cease any such efforts, my lord, and thank you for your understanding and patience. Would you be so kind as to tell Hethlin when she awakens? I fear she may be abed for a while yet--she did not have a restful night."
"I will tell her, though I wouldn't count on being able to predict such things, my lord Elrohir. Your record is less than perfect there."
"How thoughtful of you to remind me, Prince Imrahil." Silky-dangerous was back. "A good morning to you."
"And to you, Prince Elrohir." Was that a somewhat satisfied tone I heard in my lord's voice?
Eowyn and I could hear Elrohir moving away but, uncertain of where Imrahil was, we kept our voices to a whisper.
"What was all that about?" she asked me. I slid out of my bedroll, and started pulling on my stockings and boots.
"We're about thirty miles from my family's farm. I had a nightmare about what happened last night, and Elrohir woke up too. We talked for a while, and he asked me if I wanted to go back there, make sure my family was buried properly. That's what he was asking the Prince for--permission to take me with him."
"So you get to ride one of those lovely Elven horses? Some people have all the luck, Hethlin! And I must say," and here her whisper took a teasing note, "it does sound romantic! You and the Elf Lord all alone for two days and a night!"
"About as romantic as someone taking their dog out for a walk!" I snorted, "because that's how he looks at me, you know. I'm a big, amusing pet. And since when are you so worried about romance? Oh, I know what this is--Mablung told me about it. He says nothing gets a girl so interested in getting all her friends wedded as getting wedded herself." Eowyn blushed furiously of a sudden.
"Valar, I am being a silly female, aren't I?" she exclaimed in appalled realization. I patted her on the shoulder.
"I rather like it. It's sweet. And I imagine Faramir would like it too. So you just save up all those romantic feelings and blushes for the next time you see him. And let the matchmaker worry about making her own match--if she should ever decide she needs one. By the way, do you do this sort of thing often? The eavesdropping, I mean." Eowyn grimaced.
"You can thank Grima for that. He taught me early on that knowledge is power, and the best knowledge is that which others do not know you have. I'm afraid old habits die hard."
"The only thing I'd thank Grima with is the edge of my sword, should I ever have the poor pleasure of meeting him. Or perhaps a bow and a quiver full of arrows," I declared, and Eowyn grinned. And with that, I finished putting on my stockings and boots, and we both went in search of breakfast.
Prince Imrahil was sitting by the fire, finishing the last of his breakfast when I came out. Though only in his shirt sleeves, he nonetheless had a somewhat severe air about him this morning, and I decided that formal was better, and bowed.
"Good morning, my lord." He acknowledged me with a polite nod, and indicated an empty chair beside him. I sat, and he half-rose from his seat, and bowed to Eowyn.
"Good morning, my lady," he said, and she smiled and nodded back, then went to where the Rohirrim were cooking, and grabbed a couple of plates of sausages and eggs and bread, and two tankards. Bringing them all back, she gave one set to me, then sat down herself upon Imrahil's other side. Bemused, I watched as she gave the Prince a suddenly demure look from under golden lashes.
"Good morning, Uncle," was all she said, but Imrahil's air of severity melted away.
"Did you sleep well last night, Eowyn?" he asked kindly. "You went to bed very early. And how are you feeling now?" She smiled.
"I slept very deeply last night, and I feel much better today. I think that riding a great distance will not be so difficult now." She applied herself daintily to her breakfast.
"Well I hope the same holds true for you, Hethlin, for you must ride fast and hard today, and tomorrow as well." Imrahil told me.
"Indeed, sir?" I mumbled around a mouthful of bread.
"Yes. I spoke to Lord Elrohir this morning, and agreed that the two of you could make the side-trip to your parents' homestead."
"Thank you, my lord. I appreciate that." Having swallowed, my speech was somewhat clearer this time.
"I hope that you will find things to your satisfaction there. And that you'll be careful."
"Careful about stray brigands and orcs, sir? Or careful about Prince Elrohir?" He gave me an wry look.
"Both, preferably." I grinned at him, and continued eating my breakfast, while he and Eowyn discussed wedding dates and plans, and Faramir in general. When finished, I got up and went to the tent to arm and pack. Eomer came over after a while and joined them, taking my old seat.
Long experience made the process a swift one. I came out fully armed and armored, and carrying my saddlebags a few minutes later. The King's message pouch I presented to Prince Imrahil with a bow.
"It would be safer were you to hold this for now, I think, my lord." And he nodded his agreement. Eomer gave me a blinding smile.
"I understand you're leaving us for the next little bit, lady. Do ride back and let us know if you run into any trouble. My sword arm cries out for exercise." From the way he looked me up and down, I suspected his sword arm wasn't the only part wanting exercise, but I smiled politely nonetheless.
"Didn't you get enough of that at the Black Gate?" I asked him. The grin widened.
"That was what, a whole seven weeks ago? The lust for battle runs hot in Rohirric veins, my lady. And if on my way home I can do my royal cousin Aragorn a little favor by cleaning the odd pocket of darkness out of Anorien, then it is my duty and pleasure to do so." I shook my head.
"You are a terrible man, my lord King! I hope you will not take it amiss if I hope we have a boring journey."
"There is something to be said for a quiet journey if it brings you back to us more swiftly, lady." At that, Eowyn looked at me and winked, while Prince Imrahil gave his royal counterpart a hard stare.
"Eomer, are you flirting with my esquire?" Eomer absolutely beamed.
"Why yes, I am, Imrahil. Perceptive of you to notice. You're from Gondor, tell me--how do you think I'm doing so far?" The Prince just shook his head.
"Flee. Flee now, Hethlin," he said to me with a rueful smile. "And know that you have my sympathy. You appear to be caught between air and fire!"
"And everyone knows that air is the element of intellect," Elrohir purred as he strode up, two saddled Elven horses trailing behind him of their own accord. Both were greys, but Elrohir's horse was a dark dapple while Elladan's horse Nimfaun, or Whitecloud, was the lighter of the two, and indeed almost white. I looked at the Elf-horse with his huge dark eyes, arched neck and dished face, and hesitated, unsure how to proceed, for there appeared to be more intelligence in those eyes than was usual for a common horse. I looked to Elrohir for guidance, and he gave me an evil smile that said I was on my own. I could see Elladan strolling over towards us, eating a piece of bread, and got an idea. Setting my things down, I went over to where the cooks were cleaning up and dousing the fire, and begged one of the last pieces of bread, and honey to smear upon it. With this sticky treat, I returned to Nimfaun, and addressed him in Elvish, much to Eowyn and Eomer's amusement.
"Good morning to you, Nimfaun," I said to him slowly and carefully, for my Elvish was not the best. "I was wondering if you would be kind enough to bear me for a time?" And I extended my hand with the bread to him. After a moment's hesitation, the horse stepped silently forward, and his soft lips opened, and lifted the bread delicately from my hand. His dark eyes regarded me intently as he chewed, and when he finished, the small nose came forward again, and the tongue neatly licked the remnants of the honey from my palm. Very carefully, I reached out and touched his nose. All horses' noses are soft, but the Elf horse's was by far the softer, even as Elrohir's hair was softer than any mortal's. Slowly, I slid my hand up, and gently scratched the center of his forehead, and his eyes closed in pleasure.
"You're in," said Elladan with a smile as he came up, and I heard Prince Imrahil chuckle. "What sort of rituals must I enact with your beast, Hethlin?" I laughed.
"He's just a regular horse, Prince Elladan, so speeches are not necessary. But he does love bread!"
"I'll remember that." And he went over to talk to his brother briefly while I tied my things upon Nimfaun. Once they were secure, I swung up, trying to land as lightly in the saddle as I could. Nimfaun stood like a statue till I was aboard, then moved with only the slightest direction. His walk was smooth as glass, and I could already tell that two days on him were going to spoil me for a merely mortal horse. Elrohir had mounted, and I looked back at Imrahil, Eomer, and Eowyn with the silly, delighted grin of a horsewoman in love, while they waved and looked slightly envious.
"Thank you, Prince Elladan!," I called, and Elladan waved back with a knowing smile.
"How do we go, Hethlin?" Elrohir asked me.
"About ten miles past Nardol, then due south, my lord." He nodded, and lifted his horse into a canter that was smooth and swift as the wind, and I did the same, for the first time in four years headed home.
Now for the Important Stuff--the results of the Who Should Heth Nest With Poll! I must say I was flattered by all the people who made the effort to vote, and touched by their fervent defense of their choices! The final results are as follows:
In first place, a tie with 21 points each--Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and Captain Mablung of the Ithilien Rangers!
In a close second place finish, with 20 points--Prince Elrohir of Imladris!
In third place, with 15 points (a respectable showing for a young man who hasn't been seen that much!)--Prince Amrothos of Dol Amroth!
In fourth place, with 8 points--the quieter but still mischievous Prince Elladan of Imladris!
In fifth place, with 6 points--the Lady Eowyn of Rohan!
The following received votes totaling 3 points each--Faramir, Tedryn of Morthond (the archer who helped Heth back to Minas Tirith), Elladan and Elrohir as a threesome with Heth, Prince Imrahil's Armsmaster Andrahar, and A Rohirrim, Any Rohirrim.
Oh yes, and Lorend got a point too.
Thanks to everyone who voted, and apologies in advance, for the poll basically tells me that whoever Heth ends up with is going to make two-thirds of you unhappy! Hopefully, you'll forgive me and keep reading anyway!--Isabeau of Greenlea
What can I say--Eowyn beat me by two lengths. Of course, I defended Fortune's honor by pointing out to her that I was twenty pounds heavier than she and wearing a hauberk as well. She just patted my hand where it rested on the reins and consoled me by saying that even if he couldn't run, she was sure Fortune danced as prettily as the rest of the Dol Amroth horses. I responded with the other of the phrases her brother had taught me at lunch, and she grinned, and looked down, and said that she'd like to oblige, but wasn't properly equipped. I made a mental note to find out what those phrases really meant before using them again. Then, being sensible women, we let the matter lie, and walked our mounts out.
There had been much cheering as we raced, and some of the spectators threw Eowyn flowers as we returned back to the others, for they knew she was the slayer of the Witch-King, and they loved her. She smiled and waved, golden and lovely in the sun, and I thought it nice that she had such a moment, after so much unhappiness. I imagined Faramir was feeling slightly bereft back in Minas Tirith, deprived of both his betrothed and his uncle.
"You did rather well," that self-same uncle said when I had returned to the vanguard. "You gave her quite a weight advantage. And Fortune was not bred to be a race horse." He looked over at the King of Rohan, as if expecting him to make some sort of jibe, but Eomer was deep in conversation with Lothiriel. Eowyn looked at them for a moment in surprise, then reined her horse over to Elladan and Elrohir, and began talking with them. Imrahil turned his attention back to me.
"How are you and my nephew getting along since the other day?" he asked quietly, so the others could not hear.
"I had not seen him until this morning, my lord prince, and he was friendly enough."
"Faramir has a good heart, Hethlin. Did you really think he would end your friendship if he discovered you had feelings for him?" I gave him an irritated look.
"Of course I did, sir, or I wouldn't have tried to go to so much trouble to keep it secret!" I muttered. "And I think I was doing a pretty good job of it, no matter what Prince Elrohir said!" I caught a glimpse of an Elven eye turned in my direction for a moment, and cursed Elven ears mentally.
"And now that he does know, how do you feel?" the Prince inquired gently.
"Relieved, in a way," I admitted. "I don't have to watch and measure everything I say and do. And maybe the King was wiser than I thought--I think going to Ithilien might have been harder than I originally believed. But I still wish he didn't know. Or at least, that he hadn't found out in such a way."
Imrahil grimaced. "We noble lords did not exactly cover ourselves with glory on that day, did we?" I made a noncommittal sort of noise in reply, and said nothing more for a long time after that.
About five miles out of the City, Prince Imrahil suggested to his daughter that she might want to be going back. She agreed to do so, in a pretty show of daughterly obedience, and wished the King a polite farewell, which he returned with a smile. Eomer then rode ahead with the Prince for a while, the two of them talking intently about something. I wondered if they were bargaining about the horse, or discussing his daughter's finer points.
We made thirty miles the first day, which put us about twenty miles out the Anorien Gate, between the Grey Wood, and Amon Din, and by the end of the day, I felt every single foot of it. Eowyn, who had been my companion for most of the day, was even worse off, for she had been sedentary far longer than I. Only the fact that she'd been literally born to the saddle saved her from the ignominy of finishing the day in one of the supply wagons, but our conversation, which had been so cheerful in the morning, fell off to the occasional muttered curse by the time the halt was called. She did work on my Rohirric vocabulary with me--I learned the meaning of the phrases her brother had taught me, which were indeed every bit as vile as the ones Mablung used, and several new curses, the words for "raw",. "sore", "chafed", "tired", "exhausted" and the phrase for "wretched, beer-swilling, son-of-a-mare of a brother who doesn't know when to call a halt, for Valar's sake!".
Fortunately for us, by the time we'd picketed, fed, watered and groomed our mounts, the efficient Riders had set camp, built fires, put up tents, and started cooking. When we came to the royal encampment, we found that roasting meat was on the spit, soon to come off, and that the kegs of beer had already been broached. Eowyn and I sat down rather gingerly by the campfire, and were forced to endure the jests of the other Riders in consequence. King Eomer told me of a highly recommended unguent for chafes and weary muscles that he happened to have in his possession, and volunteered to apply it to my affected areas personally. I politely declined, and ate my supper, and listened to the Riders, who, after they had some food and beer in them, began to sing again. I listened hard, picking up the occasional word I knew, and wondered how long it would take to master the language in full. Truthfully, it was a lovely sounding tongue--aside from the way it lent itself to invective!
Eowyn and I, being the only ladies, had actually been given a tent to ourselves, and after supper, we were informed that hot water was being prepared for us to wash up. Eowyn asked if I would like to go first, and though it seemed discourteous to precede the princess, I said I would like to. It had occurred to me that the first one washed could slide into bed and preserve her privacy, while the second one would be bathing with the first one in the tent, unless the first one chose to leave again. So I scampered into the tent, washed off quickly, changed into clean breeches and a shirt, and stuck my head back out to tell her I was done.
When she came in, I was already in my bedroll, and turned my back to her politely so she could bathe. There was much splashing of water in washbasin, then she asked, "Hethlin, are you still awake?"
"Aye, my lady."
"Do you like my brother?"
"Aye, I think he's funny. Why?"
"Because I think he likes you. I'd much rather have you for a sister than one of those court ladies--even that cousin of Faramir's. Think of the possibilities--we could terrorize Minas Tirith together!" There was a sound of fabric moving over skin--she was toweling off.
"You know why that can't happen, Eowyn. Besides, I'm the matchmaker here!"
"I thought you might be going to Lorien to have your....difficulty taken care of. I thought perhaps Lord Elrohir had arranged it."
"He's going to try to arrange it for me, though even if he does, we are not certain the Elves could do anything about it. But that's not why I'm going to Lorien, and I can't tell you any more about the reason for the trip."
"I suppose it's the King's business, since you're in courier garb, and the Prince is with you as well," she said sagely. "And I will not press you further. But I meant what I said. I think you'd make a good Queen of Rohan. And my brother is a good man."
"That's not what you were saying this afternoon!"
"Those were my saddle-sores talking, and you know it!'
"I know, Eowyn. And your brother is a very good man. He's handsome, and brave and very loving, judging by how he feels about you. A woman could do far, far worse."
"Well, he could do far worse than you as well."
"What?" I scoffed, " Even with my terrible head for drink?"
"That is something of a shortcoming," she conceded gravely, "but your other good qualities do outweigh it."
"Glad I am to hear that! And to think the boys in the Beacon Hills thought I'd never amount to anything!" I chuckled. There was an answering quiet laugh, then some moving around and rustling for a few moments.
"There, I'm decent," she said. I rolled gingerly over to find her lowering herself with equal care onto her bedroll. "I'm not Dunadan, and therefore can't claim to be foresighted like my betrothed, but I get the feeling that tomorrow is going to be very painful!" she groaned.
"Well, I am a Dunadan, and my foresight tells me your feeling is absolutely right! Good night, Eowyn."
"And a good night to you as well, Hethlin."
The next morning was every bit as bad as we thought it was. Both of us stretched in the tent before we went out, but our stiffness was still quite apparent, and once again we were subject to the mockery of the Riders. Prince Imrahil, however, was more genuinely concerned.
"Hethlin, are you going to be able to do this?" he asked me quietly. "Perhaps the King should have considered more carefully--it's only been a few days since you were assaulted."
"Aye, my lord, but I've had the advantage of Elven healing." And I rolled up my sleeve and showed him my arm wound, which was scabbed over and healing quite cleanly. I bandaged it now before putting on my hauberk merely to protect it from rubbing. "My problem isn't the assault, it's that I haven't ridden this hard or this far in a while. I'll suffer today, but I guarantee you sir, I'll start feeling better tomorrow. And I'll be able to keep up, never you fear."
"In a way, this trip is a good thing. By the time we get back from it, I'll be fit enough to start training at Dol Amroth. And I'm beginning to think that trying to second-guess the King about anything is a bad idea!" Imrahil laughed, admitted I had a point, and went off to see to his horse. I could hear Eomer and Eowyn having a quiet argument in Rohirric--I didn't know enough words to be able to tell what was going on by translation, but he'd gestured towards the wagons a time or two, and she'd shaken her head vehemently, so the context was clear enough. Eventually, she came over to get her breakfast, grumbling under her breath.
"Tried to make you ride in the wagons, did he?" I asked, amused. She favored me with her narrow-eyed stare.
"Indeed he did! As if saddle-sores ever killed anyone! How does he think I'm to get my seat back, sitting in a wagon? Of course it will hurt at first, but I'll get over it!"
I grinned. "Ah, but you are a frail flower of womanhood, and need protection!" The stare became a glare.
"Continue as you've begun, eagle-girl, and you'll get that sparring match I promised you weeks ago!" I laughed.
"Any time, horse-lady!" The two of us regarded each other for a moment as we chewed our breakfast, thinking about the prospect of violent physical effort during our current state of soreness. Finally Eowyn spoke.
"Tomorrow?" I nodded.
"That sounds good." After a moment's thought, I proposed, "The day after?" She nodded.
"That sounds even better." And we finished our breakfast in perfect amity.
We marched much harder and further that day, covering fifty miles before dusk fell and camp was set. Across the Road from our camp, to the south lay the Druadan Forest and the old beacon hill of Eilenach. On the morrow, we would pass the third beacon, Nardol, and thus come close to the lands I'd grown up in. Consequently, I was somewhat uneasy as night fell. Over supper, Eomer told Prince Imrahil, Elrond's sons and myself of the encounter with the Wild Men on the way to Minas Tirith, but though we heard the occasional distant rumble of drums in the night, none of those secretive folk showed themselves at the camp.
Eowyn was nodding over her supper, so I deferred to her in the order of washing up. After about half an hour, when she had not reappeared to tell me she was finished, I called softly into the tent, and getting no answer, went within to find her already sound asleep in her bedroll. A slight pungency to the air told me that she at least had availed herself of her brother's ointment. So I disposed of her wash water, got some for myself, cleaned up, and borrowed the magical unguent, though I did not avail myself of the royal applicator. Then I too gratefully sought my bed, thinking extreme weariness would guarantee a sound night's sleep.
But it was not to be. Deep in the night, I found myself trapped in one of those dreams where the dreamer is an impotent witness to some disaster, unable to change the outcome no matter how they try. I will not describe what I dreamed in any great detail--suffice it to say that I had often wondered what would have happened had I returned from the hunt in time to aid my father and mother, and in this dream I did so, but was unable to do aught but watch as they were slain. It was hardly the first time nightmares had driven me awake, but at least I did so quietly this time, merely sitting bolt upright with a loud gasp. I looked over at Eowyn, but she did not so much as stir, so deeply asleep was she.
I was trembling, and in a cold sweat, and did not think that sleep would be possible any time soon, so I pulled on my boots, and slipped silently out of the tent. All was quiet, and a light spring fog lay over the ground. I could hear sentries making the rounds, and champing and stomping from the direction of the horse lines, but nothing else. I went over to the fire pit, where embers were still glowing, added a couple of sticks of wood, and proceeded to try to poke it back up. After a bit, the wood caught, I added some larger pieces, then huddled over my handiwork to warm myself.
As I knelt there, I missed Faramir with a pain that was almost physical, for I knew that he would have been able to talk with me about the dream in a way that soothed me enough so that sleep could eventually come. When one is subject to occasional nightmares about a tragic past, having a commander who is himself prone to involuntary visions about age-old disasters is not necessarily a bad thing. I wondered how my infirmity would play among the Swan Knights.
A movement across the fire from me caught my eye, and I looked up and saw Elrohir standing there, his eyes hooded. He looked very alien and arcane, his features lit from below by the firelight, and said nothing for some moments, retreating back into the shadow, only to return with two camp chairs, and drag them close to the fire. One of them was Eomer's--intricately carved, with horses' heads decorating the ends of the arms. It was of throne-like proportions, and I suppose actually was the traveling throne of Rohan, but Elrohir dropped gracefully into it as one who had the divine right to be there. He gestured that I should take the other, and after a moment's hesitation, I did so.
*I felt your dream, Snowsteel.* came his voice softly in my head.
"I am sorry if I troubled your--" He interrupted me with an abrupt shake of the head.
*The other way, Snowsteel. After your little display in Minas Tirith, I think you can do it. Such gifts only grow stronger when used.* So I looked him in the eye, and suddenly was caught up in the starlight.
*I am.... sorry..... if I troubled your sleep.... my lord Prince.* Communicating in this way felt very strange. He flashed me a sudden grin.
*Very good, Snowsteel! Though you'll pardon me if I say your claim of contrition does not exactly ring true.*
*I'm still angry with you.* There, that was easier. Strong feelings were more easily expressed than complicated concepts.
*And rightly so,* he conceded. *Have I damaged your friendship with the Steward irreparably?*
*It's too early to tell yet. He seemed to be trying to reassure me that he wasn't going to stop being my friend the other day, when we said goodbye. But things may change later on--I just don't know.* Though it came slowly, I was able to get all of the speech out in a reasonably coherent fashion now.
*You have my apology, if that turns out to be the case.*
*With all due respect, my lord Prince, your apology would be small consolation.* I stood up and stretched, my abused muscles protesting strongly.
Elrohir rested his elbows on the arms of the throne, and templed his fingertips, regarding me broodingly.
*Would you go there, Snowsteel?*
*Where?*
*You know whereof I speak. Have you been there since it happened?* The blood chilled to ice in my veins.
"No," I whispered aloud, wrenching my eyes from him, suddenly unable to bear the contact. "No, I haven't."
"What happened to the bodies of your kin?" he asked quietly, using speech once more. I sat back down again wearily.
"Faramir sent Mablung and a party of Rangers to deal with them. It was kind of him, for as you can see, we lived nowhere near his patrol area, and he had to send enough of them that they'd be safe. It quite disrupted his schedule till they returned."
"Did you not go with them to lead the way?"
"No, for he sent them soon after he rescued me, and I was too ill to travel. I gave a description as best I could, and Mablung found the house, or so he said. From the sound of things, he got it right." I took a moment to swallow hard, then continued. "There was naught left but bones, in any event. He said they buried them all together in one large grave. As good a way of doing it as any, I suppose." Elrohir gave me what was, for him, a sympathetic look.
"But you have never actually seen where they were laid to rest?"
"Nay. The Enemy began to try our defenses more often after that, and there was no time and no men to spare for such a frivolous journey. After all, it was not as if they were going anywhere. And for a while there, it looked as if we'd all be joining them in graves ourselves." Elrohir sat up and leaned forward, elbows on knees.
"Yes, things did look a bit grim, didn't they? But there is time for such 'frivolity' now, Snowsteel. If Elladan were to lend you his horse, you and I could leave in the morning while he and the Prince proceeded with the army, and the day after we would be caught up with them again, and no time lost, for Elven steeds are surpassingly swift. It could be done, if you wished it so."
I heard this proposal with mixed emotions. Part of me did wish to see where and how my family had been disposed of, and part of me feared to go anywhere near the place, lest I be overwhelmed by the horror and sorrow of my memories. Finally, I said, "I would like to do so, but my time is not my own to spend. The Lord of Dol Amroth holds my sworn word, and he must give his leave first." Elrohir's eyes flashed in the firelight, and I caught a bit of rebellious anger through our link--the son of Elrond was not used to asking anyone for leave to do what he thought should be done--but after a moment, he nodded.
"Estel would not appreciate it, should I anger one of his great lords by abducting you." I snorted.
"A bit late to be coming to that understanding, after the way you treated the Steward when I was injured! But I supposed even an old Elf can learn new ways." Another spike of instantaneous offense through the link, followed by rueful amusement.
"I may have called myself an old fool to you once upon a time, Snowsteel, but I'll have you know that to some of my folk, I am quite the impetuous youth! A mere stripling, rash and wild!" He grinned that raffish grin suddenly, and in spite of myself, I had to smile.
"Goodness! Really? Such a possibility never occurred to me!"
"Yes, well, you've never seen my father in full cry! But I will speak to the Swan Prince in a few hours, and see if I can gain his consent. In the meantime, you need to get some rest--it is not all that long since you were ill."
"I do not think I can sleep yet."
"I can aid you with that, you know." I looked at him somberly.
"Actually, I would appreciate that." He nodded, and I was starting to rise from the chair to return to my tent when his two fingers touched my forehead as they'd done once before, and all went dark.
I was awakened by a hand shaking my shoulder vigorously. As I started up, the hand covered my mouth for a moment. I looked up and saw Eowyn, her eyes dancing, and a finger held to her lips. I nodded understanding, and she lowered her hand. Somehow, I had been transported back to my tent, and tucked into bed. I would have been willing to go there under my own power, and then have him aid me to sleep, but Elrohir had made the decision for me, as usual. I sighed quietly.
After a moment, I heard voices outside the tent. Judging from the direction, the speakers were close to the fire, probably eating breakfast.
"This has come up somewhat suddenly, my lord Elrohir," Prince Imrahil was saying. "Why did I hear nothing of this before now?"
"I do not believe Hethlin intended to tell you about it at all, my lord Prince. Nor myself. But she had a nightmare last night and woke me, and we spoke of it. Do you know, she is not even certain if the Rangers buried the right family? Apparently, there was more than one homestead in the area."
"I had no idea we were so close to the place. And I can certainly sympathize with Hethlin. But are we not under some pressure of time? Could this errand not wait upon our return? For it has waited near four years already."
"I do not know if we will be traveling the same route upon our return, my lord. It is likely, but not entirely certain. And if we do as I propose, no time will be lost."
"Ah yes, the Elven horses. Has your brother given his consent to this? And how safe do you think the two of you will be, riding out alone?"
"Elladan has agreed to lend Nimfaun to Hethlin. Of course, I haven't asked Nimfaun yet!" The Prince made a little snorting chuckle. "As to the other--I have wandered the Wilderland, alone and in my brother's company for the better part of two thousand years, and I am still here. There is nothing in Anorien for me to fear."
"Very well then. If you can do as you say, I give my assent." There was a moment's silence, then Imrahil spoke once more, and there was a warning in his tone. "With one condition."
"And that would be?"
"You said once that my nephew was the mule caught between two mangers. So I am sure you will not mind if I observe in turn that you seem very much like a man confronted with a rare dish whose flavor he is not sure that he likes. He tastes it and tastes it and tastes it yet again, finding in the end that he is still not certain if it is to his liking, but that there is nothing left for anyone else. I would rather that you not do that to my esquire."
"And is it because Hethlin is your esquire that you express your concern, or is there another reason?" Elrohir's voice had gone all silky-dangerous. Eowyn looked at me, her eyes wide. I shrugged my shoulders, having no idea where all this was going.
"There is no other reason. She is sworn to me, and she is of an age with Lothiriel. Anything else between us would be inappropriate," snapped Imrahil. Elrohir laughed.
"My lord prince, three-quarters of the maidens pursuing you at court are your daughter's age, and no one there thinks anything amiss. It has always been the prerogative of men of wealth and power to possess beauty and youth--even if they are not young themselves." Eowyn and I held our breath and waited for the explosion, but none came. Instead, suprisingly, Imrahil's reply was in the mildest of voices.
"Prince Elrohir, is it your desire that I take back my permission? Because if it is, you are certainly going about it the right way."
Elrohir backed down swiftly. "Then I shall cease any such efforts, my lord, and thank you for your understanding and patience. Would you be so kind as to tell Hethlin when she awakens? I fear she may be abed for a while yet--she did not have a restful night."
"I will tell her, though I wouldn't count on being able to predict such things, my lord Elrohir. Your record is less than perfect there."
"How thoughtful of you to remind me, Prince Imrahil." Silky-dangerous was back. "A good morning to you."
"And to you, Prince Elrohir." Was that a somewhat satisfied tone I heard in my lord's voice?
Eowyn and I could hear Elrohir moving away but, uncertain of where Imrahil was, we kept our voices to a whisper.
"What was all that about?" she asked me. I slid out of my bedroll, and started pulling on my stockings and boots.
"We're about thirty miles from my family's farm. I had a nightmare about what happened last night, and Elrohir woke up too. We talked for a while, and he asked me if I wanted to go back there, make sure my family was buried properly. That's what he was asking the Prince for--permission to take me with him."
"So you get to ride one of those lovely Elven horses? Some people have all the luck, Hethlin! And I must say," and here her whisper took a teasing note, "it does sound romantic! You and the Elf Lord all alone for two days and a night!"
"About as romantic as someone taking their dog out for a walk!" I snorted, "because that's how he looks at me, you know. I'm a big, amusing pet. And since when are you so worried about romance? Oh, I know what this is--Mablung told me about it. He says nothing gets a girl so interested in getting all her friends wedded as getting wedded herself." Eowyn blushed furiously of a sudden.
"Valar, I am being a silly female, aren't I?" she exclaimed in appalled realization. I patted her on the shoulder.
"I rather like it. It's sweet. And I imagine Faramir would like it too. So you just save up all those romantic feelings and blushes for the next time you see him. And let the matchmaker worry about making her own match--if she should ever decide she needs one. By the way, do you do this sort of thing often? The eavesdropping, I mean." Eowyn grimaced.
"You can thank Grima for that. He taught me early on that knowledge is power, and the best knowledge is that which others do not know you have. I'm afraid old habits die hard."
"The only thing I'd thank Grima with is the edge of my sword, should I ever have the poor pleasure of meeting him. Or perhaps a bow and a quiver full of arrows," I declared, and Eowyn grinned. And with that, I finished putting on my stockings and boots, and we both went in search of breakfast.
Prince Imrahil was sitting by the fire, finishing the last of his breakfast when I came out. Though only in his shirt sleeves, he nonetheless had a somewhat severe air about him this morning, and I decided that formal was better, and bowed.
"Good morning, my lord." He acknowledged me with a polite nod, and indicated an empty chair beside him. I sat, and he half-rose from his seat, and bowed to Eowyn.
"Good morning, my lady," he said, and she smiled and nodded back, then went to where the Rohirrim were cooking, and grabbed a couple of plates of sausages and eggs and bread, and two tankards. Bringing them all back, she gave one set to me, then sat down herself upon Imrahil's other side. Bemused, I watched as she gave the Prince a suddenly demure look from under golden lashes.
"Good morning, Uncle," was all she said, but Imrahil's air of severity melted away.
"Did you sleep well last night, Eowyn?" he asked kindly. "You went to bed very early. And how are you feeling now?" She smiled.
"I slept very deeply last night, and I feel much better today. I think that riding a great distance will not be so difficult now." She applied herself daintily to her breakfast.
"Well I hope the same holds true for you, Hethlin, for you must ride fast and hard today, and tomorrow as well." Imrahil told me.
"Indeed, sir?" I mumbled around a mouthful of bread.
"Yes. I spoke to Lord Elrohir this morning, and agreed that the two of you could make the side-trip to your parents' homestead."
"Thank you, my lord. I appreciate that." Having swallowed, my speech was somewhat clearer this time.
"I hope that you will find things to your satisfaction there. And that you'll be careful."
"Careful about stray brigands and orcs, sir? Or careful about Prince Elrohir?" He gave me an wry look.
"Both, preferably." I grinned at him, and continued eating my breakfast, while he and Eowyn discussed wedding dates and plans, and Faramir in general. When finished, I got up and went to the tent to arm and pack. Eomer came over after a while and joined them, taking my old seat.
Long experience made the process a swift one. I came out fully armed and armored, and carrying my saddlebags a few minutes later. The King's message pouch I presented to Prince Imrahil with a bow.
"It would be safer were you to hold this for now, I think, my lord." And he nodded his agreement. Eomer gave me a blinding smile.
"I understand you're leaving us for the next little bit, lady. Do ride back and let us know if you run into any trouble. My sword arm cries out for exercise." From the way he looked me up and down, I suspected his sword arm wasn't the only part wanting exercise, but I smiled politely nonetheless.
"Didn't you get enough of that at the Black Gate?" I asked him. The grin widened.
"That was what, a whole seven weeks ago? The lust for battle runs hot in Rohirric veins, my lady. And if on my way home I can do my royal cousin Aragorn a little favor by cleaning the odd pocket of darkness out of Anorien, then it is my duty and pleasure to do so." I shook my head.
"You are a terrible man, my lord King! I hope you will not take it amiss if I hope we have a boring journey."
"There is something to be said for a quiet journey if it brings you back to us more swiftly, lady." At that, Eowyn looked at me and winked, while Prince Imrahil gave his royal counterpart a hard stare.
"Eomer, are you flirting with my esquire?" Eomer absolutely beamed.
"Why yes, I am, Imrahil. Perceptive of you to notice. You're from Gondor, tell me--how do you think I'm doing so far?" The Prince just shook his head.
"Flee. Flee now, Hethlin," he said to me with a rueful smile. "And know that you have my sympathy. You appear to be caught between air and fire!"
"And everyone knows that air is the element of intellect," Elrohir purred as he strode up, two saddled Elven horses trailing behind him of their own accord. Both were greys, but Elrohir's horse was a dark dapple while Elladan's horse Nimfaun, or Whitecloud, was the lighter of the two, and indeed almost white. I looked at the Elf-horse with his huge dark eyes, arched neck and dished face, and hesitated, unsure how to proceed, for there appeared to be more intelligence in those eyes than was usual for a common horse. I looked to Elrohir for guidance, and he gave me an evil smile that said I was on my own. I could see Elladan strolling over towards us, eating a piece of bread, and got an idea. Setting my things down, I went over to where the cooks were cleaning up and dousing the fire, and begged one of the last pieces of bread, and honey to smear upon it. With this sticky treat, I returned to Nimfaun, and addressed him in Elvish, much to Eowyn and Eomer's amusement.
"Good morning to you, Nimfaun," I said to him slowly and carefully, for my Elvish was not the best. "I was wondering if you would be kind enough to bear me for a time?" And I extended my hand with the bread to him. After a moment's hesitation, the horse stepped silently forward, and his soft lips opened, and lifted the bread delicately from my hand. His dark eyes regarded me intently as he chewed, and when he finished, the small nose came forward again, and the tongue neatly licked the remnants of the honey from my palm. Very carefully, I reached out and touched his nose. All horses' noses are soft, but the Elf horse's was by far the softer, even as Elrohir's hair was softer than any mortal's. Slowly, I slid my hand up, and gently scratched the center of his forehead, and his eyes closed in pleasure.
"You're in," said Elladan with a smile as he came up, and I heard Prince Imrahil chuckle. "What sort of rituals must I enact with your beast, Hethlin?" I laughed.
"He's just a regular horse, Prince Elladan, so speeches are not necessary. But he does love bread!"
"I'll remember that." And he went over to talk to his brother briefly while I tied my things upon Nimfaun. Once they were secure, I swung up, trying to land as lightly in the saddle as I could. Nimfaun stood like a statue till I was aboard, then moved with only the slightest direction. His walk was smooth as glass, and I could already tell that two days on him were going to spoil me for a merely mortal horse. Elrohir had mounted, and I looked back at Imrahil, Eomer, and Eowyn with the silly, delighted grin of a horsewoman in love, while they waved and looked slightly envious.
"Thank you, Prince Elladan!," I called, and Elladan waved back with a knowing smile.
"How do we go, Hethlin?" Elrohir asked me.
"About ten miles past Nardol, then due south, my lord." He nodded, and lifted his horse into a canter that was smooth and swift as the wind, and I did the same, for the first time in four years headed home.