Author's Note--OK, I lied. I truly intended them to go off into the Wild this chapter, but Eowyn got martial, Elrohir got mischievous, and Imrahil got just plain wordy. But at least it's an update, Tia, and in only seven days!
"Wake up, Hethlin!"
"Mrrrmph! Go away, Eowyn!"
"It's the day after the day after, eagle-girl! Time for our sparring match."
"I rode over eighty miles yesterday, you daughter of a mare! Go away!"
"Ah, but it was on one of those delightful Elven horses. Very much like riding a cloud, I'm sure."
"Tell my arse that! You can take that cloud, and--ow!" I found myself suddenly rolled out of my bedroll onto the ground.
"Come now, where is the vaunted valor of the Rangers of Ithilien?" her gently mocking voice asked. "Fear you to face a Rider of the Mark?" I struggled up to my hands and knees. Eowyn's booted feet were nearby, and I lunged for them, intending to trip her up, but she danced out of my reach.
"The only thing I want to face at this hour is a pillow!" I started to crawl back towards my bedroll, when I looked up and realized to my horror that she was now holding the wash basin--and it was sloshing.
"You wouldn't--" was all I got out before being hit with a face-full of water. With a roar, I lunged to my feet, and towards her. She retreated swiftly through the tent flap, and I followed, breaking out into the early morning light--and into the view of my liege lord, the sons of Elrohir, the King of Rohan, and divers Riders of the Mark. My shirt was sopping down the front, and did little to disguise certain attributes. Growling, I plucked it away from my chest.
"Ha! A little water doesn't dampen the battle ardor of a Ranger of the South!," caroled Eowyn, obviously pleased with herself. "Indeed, it seems rather to nourish it and make it grow to great stature!" Appreciative chuckles greeted her poetical efforts. I was much less lyrical and far more succinct.
"Prepare to die, yellow-hair!" I snarled.
It took little time to arm and armor. Eowyn had brought her hauberk with her, though she hadn't been wearing it on the journey. Riders brought wooden practice swords for the two of us, and identical round shields with the White Horse of Rohan upon them. I slid mine onto my left arm and winced a bit, for it pulled at my wound a little. That was not the primary source of my discomfort, however--I had never fought with a shield on foot. The little experience I had with a shield had been ahorse and with a Gondorian kite shield.
"What is the matter, Hethlin?" Prince Imrahil asked quietly. I hadn't heard him move up behind me and jumped a bit.
"I've never used one of these, my lord." He looked puzzled for a moment, then comprehension dawned.
"Of course. What Ranger would? You'd just have to set it down when you went to your bow, wouldn't you?" I nodded, and looked over to where Eowyn was waiting. She gave me a concerned look.
"Hethlin, would you like another weapon? Shall we both fight shieldless?"
I didn't want to make a fuss, and they would have had to ruin a practice sword to make me a practice knife, so I said, "No, Eowyn, it's all right. I'll give it a try--I need to learn how to use one of these anyway."
At that, Imrahil moved behind me and took hold of my shield arm. "Here then, a couple of quick pointers. Block thus against strikes from above, thus from the side, and thus for low." He smiled wryly. "And stop thinking of the shield as an encumbrance, Hethlin. Remember, your shield is your friend. The short version is--keep it between yourself and the tricky Rohirrim lady at all times." Eowyn stuck her tongue out at him, then grinned. He sketched her a courtly bow, then left us to our own devices.
The Marshall of the Riders himself came forward to oversee our bout. Others of the Riders gathered, and King Eomer, Elladan and Elrohir did as well. I was nervous, for I was unaccustomed to fighting before an audience, and the presence of my new liege lord, who was undoubtedly going to take this opportunity to determine exactly how backward I was, was not making things any easier.
The Marshall gave the command to lay on, and Eowyn came in fast and furious, inspired by the loud encouragement of the Rohirrim. I backpedaled in a hurry, awkwardly blocking a flurry of fast-placed blows that were harder than I'd thought she would hit. Trying to find an opening in turn proved futile-- there was no problem with her shieldwork. We circled about each other, she driving me for the most part. It took about two minutes, but eventually her sword snaked past my guard and thumped my ribs. I stepped back, and raised my sword in salute.
"Well fought, my lady," I told her as the Riders cheered. She grinned cheerfully.
"That was fun, Hethlin, let's go again! You did very well!"
"Are you sure you're up to it?" I asked, for she was panting a bit.
"Of course! Let's go!" The Marshall started us again, and it was more of the same, though this time I was beginning to get a feel for the shield and it took longer for her to get to me. I even managed to put her on the defensive for a few moments, using my superior strength and weight to better advantage than I had previously. But in the end, she prevailed once more, and I conceded the match graciously as I could. I was a bit disgruntled at having made such a poor showing in front of everyone, but tried to hide it as best I could, for I truly liked Eowyn, and it was as if she hadn't offered to adjust the fight to better suit my skills. It seemed wisest to take pleasure in the fact that she had found sparring with me enjoyable.
"Can I have my breakfast now?" I asked her plaintively, and she nodded, while the Riders laughed.
"A moment please, Hethlin," said the voice of my liege lord behind me. He then addressed Eowyn.
"My lady, would you indulge us with a third bout?" She nodded, a bit surprised.
"If you would wish it, my lord, I am willing if Hethlin is." I shrugged.
"If my lord wishes it, then of course I am willing as well." Imrahil beamed.
"Excellent! This time, however, there's going to be a change." He gestured to a Rider, who gave him a practice sword that had obviously been hastily cut off to a long-knife's length--the raw edge of the wood was quite visible. Where the esquire had hesitated to ask, the Prince had simply commanded. Eowyn smiled approvingly when he said "Give me that shield, Hethlin." I did so, a wolfish grin suddenly twisting my mouth, and he handed me the practice knife. I tossed it in my hand twice, then clasped the hilt approvingly. "Will that serve?" he asked me. "Is the length correct?"
"It's perfect, my lord." I took position opposite Eowyn, and she eyed me warily, for she knew that the situation had changed. It was incredible how much lighter I felt, free of that shield, how much faster. It was as if the thing had fettered me.
This time, when the Marshal commanded us to commence, things went a little differently. We both of us were women who'd been raised as warriors by our male kindred, but I was the one who'd spent four years in the field learning how to get around the shields of orcs and Haradrim with a sword and long knife. And I was comfortable now, fighting in a way I understood. Eowyn soon found she had a problem, though she rose to the challenge magnificently, her ice-blue eyes narrowed in concentration. She pressed me and I pressed her, and the bout went on for far longer than the previous two. In the end, the slight edge I had in conditioning served me well--she tired, overextended, and I had her. My knife drove her sword wide, I sidestepped, and slid my sword past her shield to rest at her throat.
Eowyn lowered her weapons, stepped back, and saluted me. "Can I have my breakfast now?" she asked me in exactly the same tone I'd used earlier, as the Riders cheered. I grinned.
"I'll race you to the bacon!" And I stepped forward and clasped arms with her. She drew me close, dropped her shield, and gave me a hug.
"You'll have to teach me how to knife fight."
"If you'll teach me how to use that wretched shield!" Arms about each other's waists, we headed over to the fire to get our food.
"I think both Gondor and Rohan are fortunate in their shield-maidens," Prince Imrahil declared diplomatically.
"You never spoke truer words, my royal cousin," declared King Eomer. I could feel his eyes upon my back. Or perhaps it was my backside....Apparently, Elrohir was not the only one who found me beautiful in motion.
"I fear we must leave you on the morrow, Eowyn," Prince Imrahil said as we rode through the brightening morning light a short time later. She frowned.
"I was hoping that we would be able to guest you at Meduseld for at least one night, Uncle. Can you not come to Edoras with us? Surely the ease of traveling on the Road will make up for the distance it takes you out of your direct way."
"Elladan and Elrohir say not. If we part company with you once over the border of Rohan, and ride hard as we can, they say we can take two days off of our journey. Though in truth, I'm not looking forward to swimming the Entwash!"
"You would not have to, came you to Edoras, sir--when the Road continues eastward, there's a very nice ford." She gave him one of her sidelong, demure glances, usually sure to win him over. But the Prince was adamant this time.
"Seek not to cozen me, Eowyn!" he laughed, reaching across the space between their horses and cupping her cheek gently. "We must leave you, and that is that!" At her crestfallen look, he added, "I promise you that I will return with King Theoden for his burial rites, and accept from you all the hospitality you can offer. Though I have been warned about your beer....." And he threw me an amused glance, which I endeavored to ignore with as much dignity as possible.
"Will you bring Hethlin with you, sir? I know that she will be in training then, but surely such a journey would be good for her. She could work on her Rohirric."
"Of course I will bring her! I would not deprive you of your sparring partner. Though you may not have time for such things, as Faramir will be there as well, and may have other ideas about how you should be spending your days." Eowyn's cheeks got distinctly pink, to my great amusement.
"I truly wish to see the herds of Rohan, Eowyn," I assured her. "I'm counting the days till I get the chance to do so. But I warn you, I'll be wanting to look at every horse on the place!"
"We will make a day of it," she promised me, "After the funeral, and do just that! You and I and Faramir and the Prince. We'll take a picnic, and stay out the whole day. And look at horses all day long!"
Well! I for one will look forward to that!" declared the Prince, and I agreed it sounded like a very good time indeed. Somewhat mollified, Eowyn excused herself, for her brother was calling her.
The Prince and I rode in silence for a few minutes, then I said quietly, "Thank you, my lord, for that third bout." He smiled.
"I thought you might like to have a chance to show what you could really do. Though I do not believe it was Eowyn's intention to put you at a disadvantage."
"Oh, no, I never thought that! She offered to arrange things more to my liking, and I almost asked to have a sword cut down, but didn't really think I should be asking them to ruin one."
"That's what liege lords are for," Imrahil agreed. "Besides, though you may think otherwise, you didn't do badly. There was a great deal of improvement between your first bout and your second. You learn quickly, and that will stand you in good stead with my Armsmaster, who does not suffer fools gladly." This seemed like an ideal opening to broach a subject I'd been thinking much about.
"My lord, I'm rather worried that nothing I've learned already will be of any good to me in Dol Amroth. You have no use for most of my Ranger skills. I know nothing of spear work on a horse, or sword and shield. I'm going to be horribly backward."
"Hethlin, think you that my esquires all arrive in a uniform state of readiness? I assure you that it is not so." The Prince's free hand was stroking the crest of his stallion's neck gently as he spoke. "The noblemen's sons have the social skills, but their military training tends to vary greatly, depending on their individual families' resources and emphasis. They often have trouble learning to accept authority and work within a military command structure. Occasionally, I offer an esquire position to one of my promising men-at-arms. Then, the situation is usually the reverse--they work well within the chain of command, and they have basic training, though it may be lacking in some areas, but they lack the necessary social skills."
"That sounds more like me," I noted.
"Somewhat," Imrahil agreed, "Though I wouldn't call you totally lacking in social skills, no matter what Aragorn says about your lack of polish. You learn quickly in that area as well--it was not so long ago that you would hardly look me in the eye, and now look at you! You give ultimatums to the King of Gondor about your marital status, you fend off the advances of the King of Rohan rather effortlessly, and you have the Prince of Imladris, who is a difficult gentleman at the very least, wrapped around your finger!"
"That is not what you think it is, my lord Prince!" I protested, blushing hotly. Imrahil's expression was politely bland, but his eyes were twinkling mightily.
"I have carefully refrained from any speculation upon the nature of your relationship with Prince Elrohir, for it truly is none of my business," he said kindly. " I will tell you that if you should at any point in your training wish to quit it so that you might marry a young man, I would release you from your vow of fealty--or at the very least, give you orders to wed with the fellow of your choice! And I am sure that Aragorn would agree with me." His expression grew thoughtful. "Though I do wonder a bit about the advisability of cleaving to one of the Firstborn--there are good reasons, I believe, that it has only been done twice or thrice in all the ages. And yes, I do include Aragorn's bride-to-be in my reservations. Having never met the lady, I would not be overhasty in judgment, but it seems to me that she will have to adapt to a great deal she is unaccustomed to in the years to come. We must make an effort to see that she is as happy as possible in her new home."
"The King said very much the same thing to me before we left."
"Well, Aragorn knows her far better than we, and will undoubtedly have suggestions as to how to secure her comfort. For my part, I shall have to see if I can scare up some of Gondor's nicer nobility--and they do exist, believe it or not, Hethlin! Being decent sorts, they tend to shun court save in direst necessity. Too busy doing useful work on their lands. But I know where they live, and shall convince them to make an appearance in Minas Tirith, and to stay a while. Hopefully, they will come to love the Queen, and give her a circle of friends to ward off the sycophants." I gave him a sympathetic look.
"It seems you have a great many responsibilities, my lord."
"The King's contentment in his home life does not usually fall within my purview, but I have a duty as his liege man to do what I may to help him achieve it. And to ward the coast, and western Gondor, and manage what navy we have. My lands are extensive, but the writ of my authority extends somewhat beyond them, and my influence further than that." This was said so matter-of-factly, there was no way it could be thought of as a boast. His expression changed of a sudden, to a genuinely joyous smile. "Glad I was to lay down the position of single premier noble of the realm! One of the happiest days of my life was when the King made Faramir Prince of Ithilien! Never was there a dearer, more deserving lad! Now at least he has some of the perquisites of power as well as the burdens."
"He loves you dearly," I observed. "He was most fearful for your safety, and that of Prince Elphir's, when you rode to the Black Gate."
"As I was for his, left in Minas Tirith still so unwell. But then, one's family is always the source of the greatest joys and sorrows." He paused then, and took a quick glance about, noting that the King of Rohan, Eowyn, and the sons of Elrond were some distance away. Then his eyebrow rose, and he gave me a very wry look.
"Speaking of family, Hethlin, I understand it is you I have to thank that this quarter's budget must be stretched to obtain a very expensive Rohirrim yearling for my daughter. Eomer's way of doing business seems to be to charge what the traffic can bear, and he apparently thinks I can bear quite a bit. Is there anything you'd like to tell me about this?"
I blanched, and swallowed hard.
I made a point of spending as much of the remainder of the day as possible with Eowyn, for I knew it would be months before I saw her again, and I was going to miss my first woman friend. She spent a good bit of the afternoon extolling her brother's virtues, a project which he was all too willing to help her with personally. Elladan and Elrohir kept pretty much to themselves that day, except for a rather lengthy conversation with the Marshall of the Riders, and another, shorter one with Prince Imrahil.
That evening after dinner, as a treat for his guests, one of Eomer's riders with a most beautiful voice gave us one of their older songs about Eorl the Young. The King of Rohan made a point of sitting next to me so that he could translate. Since he did not want to detract from the performance, courtesy necessitated that he keep his translation little louder than a whisper, which of course made leaning close to my ear essential. I caught Elrohir giving him an annoyed look once or twice during the song, and Elladan giving his brother an amused one.
The song ended to great applause, which I joined in wholeheartedly, for it had been truly beautiful. Elladan and Elrohir spent some time talking to the Rider, and rather to my surprise, after a time someone brought a small traveling harp forward, and gave it to Elrohir. He and his brother then sat for a while with their heads close together, conferring, while his long, nimble fingers brought the harp into tune. Eventually, they got up and begged our indulgence to perform.
The song they sang had obviously been chosen to appeal to the Rohirrim, who loved songs of battle and heroic deaths, for they sang of the Last Alliance, and the fall of Gil-galad and Elendil. Elladan was the primary voice, for he was in fact a better singer than his brother, while Elrohir sang counterpoint and accompanied them on the harp.
"I can harp a little" indeed--he wrung sounds out of that modest instrument of few strings that I'm sure its owner never dreamed it could make. And as for the singing--they were twin brothers very much of one mind, who'd been practicing together for over 2500 years--of course they were incredible! They sang it in Westron, so that some at least could understand it, and here and there I saw a Rider lean over and do translating duty for his fellows. But even if you could not understand the words, the harmonies and musicianship were enthralling.
The Prince sat in his chair throughout the song, fingers steepled together and eyes half-closed, a pose very reminiscent of his nephew, seeming to drink the music in. He was certainly enjoying it greatly. The Rohirrim too gave credit where credit was due--there was a long silence at the conclusion of the song, then a huge roar of approval.
The twins stood, and bowed, and Elrohir returned the harp to its owner, who looked at the instrument as if it had been bewitched.
"I'm for bed," Eowyn told me, yawning. "You wore me out this morning! Think you we'll have time to do it again tomorrow?"
"I think the sons of Elrond wish to make an early start, niece," the Prince answered in my stead. Eowyn frowned a bit, disgruntled.
"I wish we'd had more time together," she growled. "We're only just now getting our strength back and beginning to enjoy the journey, and now you have to leave."
"I'll see you again when we come to Edoras," I consoled her "and one day you'll be living in Minas Tirith, and so will I, at least part of the time. Then we can spar every day, and terrify the court women." She seemed to take heart at this idea.
"Are you coming to bed, Hethlin?"
"In a bit. I think I'll go say goodnight to Fortune."
"Well, good night to you, then."
"Good night, Eowyn." She disappeared into our tent, and I stood to head toward the horse lines.
"I think I'll go with you if you don't mind, Hethlin," the Prince said. "I'd like to organize our things so as to make a quicker start in the morning."
"Of course, my lord." I was following him towards the horses when I saw something out of the corner of my eye that caused me to pause. Elladan was talking to Eomer, and the fingertips of one of his hands rested lightly on the King's golden-stubbled jaw. The expression on the erstwhile fiery King of Rohan's face was one I'd never seen before--I could almost have sworn it was panic. Certainly, he was white about the eyes, like a young horse suddenly confronted with a saddle. Wondering what that was all about, I hastened to catch up with my lord.
Fortune was most offended I'd forgotten to bring him anything, till the more thoughtful Prince split the piece of bread he'd brought for his stallion, Caerith, with me. Then, mollified, he allowed me to fuss over him a bit. Imrahil checked over the gear quickly, then came back to me.
"My bridle seems to have gone missing. You know what it looks like, do you not?"
"Aye, my lord." It was a beautiful piece of work, intricately braided leather with silver mountings graved with swan-ships upon it.
"That wagon over there has some saddles upon it. Would you mind checking to make sure it didn't end up there by mistake?"
"Of course, my lord." Feeling quite the helpful esquire, I made my way to the nearby baggage wagon, which was festooned with saddles hung there to keep them out of the damp grass. We had used the low limb of a nearby tree for ours. Having checked the near side with no success, I worked my way around the tailgate and to the far side. Eventually, it came to light, thrown into the bed of the wagon itself. I fancied that someone had found it lying on the ground and put it there to keep it dry till its owner could claim it. Snatching it up, I dropped from the wheel I'd stood on, and was starting back around the wagon to give it to my lord, when I heard voices and paused.
"Imrahil! Are you there?"
"Yes, Eomer, I'm over here. Might I help you in some way?"
"I need to talk to you about something."
"I am, of course, at your disposal, Your Majesty. What seems to be the problem?"
Eomer's voice dropped low, but the night air was quiet and I could still just barely hear him.
"One of those elf-lords, Elladan, he....I can't believe this! He just asked me.....he just asked me to play stallion to his mare! Or perhaps it was the other way around, or both, I'm not entirely sure....but anyway, there you have it, and what do I do now? If he were anyone else, I'd just gut him, or chop his head off, or maybe geld him, but he's Aragorn's foster brother! Oh Valar--you don't suppose Aragorn goes in for that sort of thing too? What am I going to do?" The King was as shaken as I'd never heard him before, and he sounded very young of a sudden.
"That rather depends on what you've done or said already," the Prince replied, in a voice so steady and gentle that I imagined it could calm a storm at sea. "What did you say to him when he asked you?" Eomer made an irritated growling sound.
"I didn't say anything, I was so surprised. I just made a weird-sounding noise and walked away from him." Imrahil gave a quiet chuckle.
"I think that Prince Elladan is astute enough that he would read that as a refusal, Eomer. I rather doubt that any further action on your part is necessary or required."
I wondered what I should do at this point--I did not wish to be eavesdropping on such a personal conversation, yet I did not want to reveal myself to Eomer and humiliate him further. It was while debating this that I noticed, unseen by Eomer, Imrahil's hand closest to me was making a small downward gesture repeatedly. I took that to mean I was to lie low, and ducked behind the wagon accordingly.
"But what if he doesn't, and asks me again?"
"Eomer, I cannot believe that someone who has commanded men from as young an age as you have has never encountered this before!" Imrahil's tone became less soothing and a bit more bracing. In response, Eomer became indignant.
"I have commanded Riders of the Mark! Virile men who ride their women and their horses, and naught else! The men of Rohan have no use for such perversions!" Imrahil sighed.
"Ah, but this is where we come up against cultural differences, I fear. From what little I know of Elves, they do not consider the act of love with another of the same sex to be a perversion, so long as both parties are willing. I daresay, if you live long enough, you try almost everything eventually. And rumor has it that Prince Elladan likes mortal Men in his bed, but only the most manly and virile ones. It is, if you choose to see it so, a compliment."
"A rather back-handed one, if you ask me!" growled Eomer. "And again, I ask you--what should I say to him?"
Imrahil didn't miss a beat. "I am flattered, my lord Prince, that you hold me in such high regard, but I fear I must inform you that my own predilections make any sort of physical union between us impossible." Eomer groaned.
"You've done this before, haven't you? You didn't even have to think about that! I'll bet that nest of elf-lovers down on the coast you rule is filled with people like him, isn't it?" Both amusement and a little irritation were palpable in the Prince's reply.
"No, Eomer, I'm simply fast on my feet. Comes of dealing with the Haradrim on a regular basis for forty years. Not to mention the rapacious ladies of Minas Tirith."
"Well, that's a fine, flowery Dol Amroth answer--what about something a Rider of the Mark can use?"
"How about 'No, thank you.'? I have it on good authority that many people have had success with that one." The suggestion was gently dry. Eomer sighed.
"I'm being an idiot here, aren't I?"
"You were, as you said, taken by surprise, and such things are disconcerting when they happen to you the first time."
"I am sorry to have troubled you, my lord prince."
"It was no trouble at all, my lord King," Imrahil replied warmly. "Your sister is a lovely young lady, and I look forward to welcoming both of you into my family. I know that Theoden King stood as a father to you, and that you miss him greatly. I would hope that you know you may call upon me for such advice as I can give."
"On the rare occasions we're both in the same place, I assuredly will," Eomer replied. I heard the sound of some sort of movement, then footsteps moving away. I suspected a farewell manly clasp of arms--it was doubtful that Eomer was up to any more than that at present.
When I was sure that the King had departed, I came back around the wagon, bridle in hand, to find my liege lord with his face buried in Caerith's mane, his shoulders shaking. I waited patiently till he had recovered somewhat, standing back up and wiping tears from his eyes. He was still chuckling. "Oh, that poor lad! You found the bridle, did you, Hethlin? Excellent! And clever of you, to realize what I wanted you to do."
"The Rangers use hand signals some, sir--though we use whistles more. Different bird calls for different things, and some other whistles."
"Indeed? Well, I apologize for making you listen to that. I hoped that you might decide to go on back to camp."
"I thought about it--it was such a personal conversation. But I was afraid he'd see me if I moved."
"You acted wisely. Though I regret broadening your education in such a manner."
"In truth, I still don't understand entirely what you were talking about, though the description does...suggest certain things." Imrahil took the bridle from me, and moved to hang it with his saddle.
"Suffice it to say that there are men who prefer to sleep with men, and women who prefer women, and in most nations of men, these are considered perversions, heresy or worse. The general feeling seems to be that these people choose to behave in this manner, but I'm not so sure. I find it difficult to imagine someone knowingly choosing a course of behavior that causes them so much trouble and grief. I suspect it is something simply within an individual's nature. And if they are in fact born that way, it can hardly be said to be unnatural. Perhaps I'm too Elvish in my attitude, but so long as the two parties are both of age, acting of their own volition, and no children are involved, I do not get exercised over the matter. Certainly, I've never prosecuted anyone for such things within my demesne." I took a last look around, to make sure all was in order.
"Has anyone ever offered to play stallion to your mare, or the other way around?" I asked curiously, emboldened by the frank discussion. The Prince raised an eyebrow, and gave me a very bland smile.
"I was a comely enough lad, when I was young," was all he said, and with a last pat of his horse's neck, started towards his tent. "Good night, Hethlin, go get some sleep. You'll need the rest, if we have the ride the twins promise us on the morrow."
"Good night, my lord," I responded, and turned to go to the tent I shared with Eowyn. In returning there, I walked by the campfire where we'd sat earlier that evening. The chairs were still there, including Eomer's throne-like one. As before, Elrohir had claimed it for his own, and having reacquired the harp, was leaning back, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, and strumming it softly, making sweet Elven music in the night.
"An interesting evening, Snowsteel?" he inquired softly, never ceasing his play.
"Interesting enough," I owned, smiling down at him. "Your music was so lovely. You and Elladan perform so magnificently together." His eyes crinkled in pleasure.
"Don't we just?" he agreed amiably. "Truer words were never spoken than those by the mortal who said 'Bare is back without brother.'. So much truth, on so many levels." His mouth curled up slowly into a sweetly evil smile, and I was reminded both of his annoyed looks at Eomer during the music and of the King's words to me the night we had dinner at the Citadel--"I guarantee you that any mischief they've done in the world has all been done in tandem.". He watched my eyes widen in realization, and chuckled.
"Good night, Snowsteel."
"Good night, Elrohir." I then fled to my tent, pondering anew the wisdom of traveling alone in the Wild with the two of them.
"Wake up, Hethlin!"
"Mrrrmph! Go away, Eowyn!"
"It's the day after the day after, eagle-girl! Time for our sparring match."
"I rode over eighty miles yesterday, you daughter of a mare! Go away!"
"Ah, but it was on one of those delightful Elven horses. Very much like riding a cloud, I'm sure."
"Tell my arse that! You can take that cloud, and--ow!" I found myself suddenly rolled out of my bedroll onto the ground.
"Come now, where is the vaunted valor of the Rangers of Ithilien?" her gently mocking voice asked. "Fear you to face a Rider of the Mark?" I struggled up to my hands and knees. Eowyn's booted feet were nearby, and I lunged for them, intending to trip her up, but she danced out of my reach.
"The only thing I want to face at this hour is a pillow!" I started to crawl back towards my bedroll, when I looked up and realized to my horror that she was now holding the wash basin--and it was sloshing.
"You wouldn't--" was all I got out before being hit with a face-full of water. With a roar, I lunged to my feet, and towards her. She retreated swiftly through the tent flap, and I followed, breaking out into the early morning light--and into the view of my liege lord, the sons of Elrohir, the King of Rohan, and divers Riders of the Mark. My shirt was sopping down the front, and did little to disguise certain attributes. Growling, I plucked it away from my chest.
"Ha! A little water doesn't dampen the battle ardor of a Ranger of the South!," caroled Eowyn, obviously pleased with herself. "Indeed, it seems rather to nourish it and make it grow to great stature!" Appreciative chuckles greeted her poetical efforts. I was much less lyrical and far more succinct.
"Prepare to die, yellow-hair!" I snarled.
It took little time to arm and armor. Eowyn had brought her hauberk with her, though she hadn't been wearing it on the journey. Riders brought wooden practice swords for the two of us, and identical round shields with the White Horse of Rohan upon them. I slid mine onto my left arm and winced a bit, for it pulled at my wound a little. That was not the primary source of my discomfort, however--I had never fought with a shield on foot. The little experience I had with a shield had been ahorse and with a Gondorian kite shield.
"What is the matter, Hethlin?" Prince Imrahil asked quietly. I hadn't heard him move up behind me and jumped a bit.
"I've never used one of these, my lord." He looked puzzled for a moment, then comprehension dawned.
"Of course. What Ranger would? You'd just have to set it down when you went to your bow, wouldn't you?" I nodded, and looked over to where Eowyn was waiting. She gave me a concerned look.
"Hethlin, would you like another weapon? Shall we both fight shieldless?"
I didn't want to make a fuss, and they would have had to ruin a practice sword to make me a practice knife, so I said, "No, Eowyn, it's all right. I'll give it a try--I need to learn how to use one of these anyway."
At that, Imrahil moved behind me and took hold of my shield arm. "Here then, a couple of quick pointers. Block thus against strikes from above, thus from the side, and thus for low." He smiled wryly. "And stop thinking of the shield as an encumbrance, Hethlin. Remember, your shield is your friend. The short version is--keep it between yourself and the tricky Rohirrim lady at all times." Eowyn stuck her tongue out at him, then grinned. He sketched her a courtly bow, then left us to our own devices.
The Marshall of the Riders himself came forward to oversee our bout. Others of the Riders gathered, and King Eomer, Elladan and Elrohir did as well. I was nervous, for I was unaccustomed to fighting before an audience, and the presence of my new liege lord, who was undoubtedly going to take this opportunity to determine exactly how backward I was, was not making things any easier.
The Marshall gave the command to lay on, and Eowyn came in fast and furious, inspired by the loud encouragement of the Rohirrim. I backpedaled in a hurry, awkwardly blocking a flurry of fast-placed blows that were harder than I'd thought she would hit. Trying to find an opening in turn proved futile-- there was no problem with her shieldwork. We circled about each other, she driving me for the most part. It took about two minutes, but eventually her sword snaked past my guard and thumped my ribs. I stepped back, and raised my sword in salute.
"Well fought, my lady," I told her as the Riders cheered. She grinned cheerfully.
"That was fun, Hethlin, let's go again! You did very well!"
"Are you sure you're up to it?" I asked, for she was panting a bit.
"Of course! Let's go!" The Marshall started us again, and it was more of the same, though this time I was beginning to get a feel for the shield and it took longer for her to get to me. I even managed to put her on the defensive for a few moments, using my superior strength and weight to better advantage than I had previously. But in the end, she prevailed once more, and I conceded the match graciously as I could. I was a bit disgruntled at having made such a poor showing in front of everyone, but tried to hide it as best I could, for I truly liked Eowyn, and it was as if she hadn't offered to adjust the fight to better suit my skills. It seemed wisest to take pleasure in the fact that she had found sparring with me enjoyable.
"Can I have my breakfast now?" I asked her plaintively, and she nodded, while the Riders laughed.
"A moment please, Hethlin," said the voice of my liege lord behind me. He then addressed Eowyn.
"My lady, would you indulge us with a third bout?" She nodded, a bit surprised.
"If you would wish it, my lord, I am willing if Hethlin is." I shrugged.
"If my lord wishes it, then of course I am willing as well." Imrahil beamed.
"Excellent! This time, however, there's going to be a change." He gestured to a Rider, who gave him a practice sword that had obviously been hastily cut off to a long-knife's length--the raw edge of the wood was quite visible. Where the esquire had hesitated to ask, the Prince had simply commanded. Eowyn smiled approvingly when he said "Give me that shield, Hethlin." I did so, a wolfish grin suddenly twisting my mouth, and he handed me the practice knife. I tossed it in my hand twice, then clasped the hilt approvingly. "Will that serve?" he asked me. "Is the length correct?"
"It's perfect, my lord." I took position opposite Eowyn, and she eyed me warily, for she knew that the situation had changed. It was incredible how much lighter I felt, free of that shield, how much faster. It was as if the thing had fettered me.
This time, when the Marshal commanded us to commence, things went a little differently. We both of us were women who'd been raised as warriors by our male kindred, but I was the one who'd spent four years in the field learning how to get around the shields of orcs and Haradrim with a sword and long knife. And I was comfortable now, fighting in a way I understood. Eowyn soon found she had a problem, though she rose to the challenge magnificently, her ice-blue eyes narrowed in concentration. She pressed me and I pressed her, and the bout went on for far longer than the previous two. In the end, the slight edge I had in conditioning served me well--she tired, overextended, and I had her. My knife drove her sword wide, I sidestepped, and slid my sword past her shield to rest at her throat.
Eowyn lowered her weapons, stepped back, and saluted me. "Can I have my breakfast now?" she asked me in exactly the same tone I'd used earlier, as the Riders cheered. I grinned.
"I'll race you to the bacon!" And I stepped forward and clasped arms with her. She drew me close, dropped her shield, and gave me a hug.
"You'll have to teach me how to knife fight."
"If you'll teach me how to use that wretched shield!" Arms about each other's waists, we headed over to the fire to get our food.
"I think both Gondor and Rohan are fortunate in their shield-maidens," Prince Imrahil declared diplomatically.
"You never spoke truer words, my royal cousin," declared King Eomer. I could feel his eyes upon my back. Or perhaps it was my backside....Apparently, Elrohir was not the only one who found me beautiful in motion.
"I fear we must leave you on the morrow, Eowyn," Prince Imrahil said as we rode through the brightening morning light a short time later. She frowned.
"I was hoping that we would be able to guest you at Meduseld for at least one night, Uncle. Can you not come to Edoras with us? Surely the ease of traveling on the Road will make up for the distance it takes you out of your direct way."
"Elladan and Elrohir say not. If we part company with you once over the border of Rohan, and ride hard as we can, they say we can take two days off of our journey. Though in truth, I'm not looking forward to swimming the Entwash!"
"You would not have to, came you to Edoras, sir--when the Road continues eastward, there's a very nice ford." She gave him one of her sidelong, demure glances, usually sure to win him over. But the Prince was adamant this time.
"Seek not to cozen me, Eowyn!" he laughed, reaching across the space between their horses and cupping her cheek gently. "We must leave you, and that is that!" At her crestfallen look, he added, "I promise you that I will return with King Theoden for his burial rites, and accept from you all the hospitality you can offer. Though I have been warned about your beer....." And he threw me an amused glance, which I endeavored to ignore with as much dignity as possible.
"Will you bring Hethlin with you, sir? I know that she will be in training then, but surely such a journey would be good for her. She could work on her Rohirric."
"Of course I will bring her! I would not deprive you of your sparring partner. Though you may not have time for such things, as Faramir will be there as well, and may have other ideas about how you should be spending your days." Eowyn's cheeks got distinctly pink, to my great amusement.
"I truly wish to see the herds of Rohan, Eowyn," I assured her. "I'm counting the days till I get the chance to do so. But I warn you, I'll be wanting to look at every horse on the place!"
"We will make a day of it," she promised me, "After the funeral, and do just that! You and I and Faramir and the Prince. We'll take a picnic, and stay out the whole day. And look at horses all day long!"
Well! I for one will look forward to that!" declared the Prince, and I agreed it sounded like a very good time indeed. Somewhat mollified, Eowyn excused herself, for her brother was calling her.
The Prince and I rode in silence for a few minutes, then I said quietly, "Thank you, my lord, for that third bout." He smiled.
"I thought you might like to have a chance to show what you could really do. Though I do not believe it was Eowyn's intention to put you at a disadvantage."
"Oh, no, I never thought that! She offered to arrange things more to my liking, and I almost asked to have a sword cut down, but didn't really think I should be asking them to ruin one."
"That's what liege lords are for," Imrahil agreed. "Besides, though you may think otherwise, you didn't do badly. There was a great deal of improvement between your first bout and your second. You learn quickly, and that will stand you in good stead with my Armsmaster, who does not suffer fools gladly." This seemed like an ideal opening to broach a subject I'd been thinking much about.
"My lord, I'm rather worried that nothing I've learned already will be of any good to me in Dol Amroth. You have no use for most of my Ranger skills. I know nothing of spear work on a horse, or sword and shield. I'm going to be horribly backward."
"Hethlin, think you that my esquires all arrive in a uniform state of readiness? I assure you that it is not so." The Prince's free hand was stroking the crest of his stallion's neck gently as he spoke. "The noblemen's sons have the social skills, but their military training tends to vary greatly, depending on their individual families' resources and emphasis. They often have trouble learning to accept authority and work within a military command structure. Occasionally, I offer an esquire position to one of my promising men-at-arms. Then, the situation is usually the reverse--they work well within the chain of command, and they have basic training, though it may be lacking in some areas, but they lack the necessary social skills."
"That sounds more like me," I noted.
"Somewhat," Imrahil agreed, "Though I wouldn't call you totally lacking in social skills, no matter what Aragorn says about your lack of polish. You learn quickly in that area as well--it was not so long ago that you would hardly look me in the eye, and now look at you! You give ultimatums to the King of Gondor about your marital status, you fend off the advances of the King of Rohan rather effortlessly, and you have the Prince of Imladris, who is a difficult gentleman at the very least, wrapped around your finger!"
"That is not what you think it is, my lord Prince!" I protested, blushing hotly. Imrahil's expression was politely bland, but his eyes were twinkling mightily.
"I have carefully refrained from any speculation upon the nature of your relationship with Prince Elrohir, for it truly is none of my business," he said kindly. " I will tell you that if you should at any point in your training wish to quit it so that you might marry a young man, I would release you from your vow of fealty--or at the very least, give you orders to wed with the fellow of your choice! And I am sure that Aragorn would agree with me." His expression grew thoughtful. "Though I do wonder a bit about the advisability of cleaving to one of the Firstborn--there are good reasons, I believe, that it has only been done twice or thrice in all the ages. And yes, I do include Aragorn's bride-to-be in my reservations. Having never met the lady, I would not be overhasty in judgment, but it seems to me that she will have to adapt to a great deal she is unaccustomed to in the years to come. We must make an effort to see that she is as happy as possible in her new home."
"The King said very much the same thing to me before we left."
"Well, Aragorn knows her far better than we, and will undoubtedly have suggestions as to how to secure her comfort. For my part, I shall have to see if I can scare up some of Gondor's nicer nobility--and they do exist, believe it or not, Hethlin! Being decent sorts, they tend to shun court save in direst necessity. Too busy doing useful work on their lands. But I know where they live, and shall convince them to make an appearance in Minas Tirith, and to stay a while. Hopefully, they will come to love the Queen, and give her a circle of friends to ward off the sycophants." I gave him a sympathetic look.
"It seems you have a great many responsibilities, my lord."
"The King's contentment in his home life does not usually fall within my purview, but I have a duty as his liege man to do what I may to help him achieve it. And to ward the coast, and western Gondor, and manage what navy we have. My lands are extensive, but the writ of my authority extends somewhat beyond them, and my influence further than that." This was said so matter-of-factly, there was no way it could be thought of as a boast. His expression changed of a sudden, to a genuinely joyous smile. "Glad I was to lay down the position of single premier noble of the realm! One of the happiest days of my life was when the King made Faramir Prince of Ithilien! Never was there a dearer, more deserving lad! Now at least he has some of the perquisites of power as well as the burdens."
"He loves you dearly," I observed. "He was most fearful for your safety, and that of Prince Elphir's, when you rode to the Black Gate."
"As I was for his, left in Minas Tirith still so unwell. But then, one's family is always the source of the greatest joys and sorrows." He paused then, and took a quick glance about, noting that the King of Rohan, Eowyn, and the sons of Elrond were some distance away. Then his eyebrow rose, and he gave me a very wry look.
"Speaking of family, Hethlin, I understand it is you I have to thank that this quarter's budget must be stretched to obtain a very expensive Rohirrim yearling for my daughter. Eomer's way of doing business seems to be to charge what the traffic can bear, and he apparently thinks I can bear quite a bit. Is there anything you'd like to tell me about this?"
I blanched, and swallowed hard.
I made a point of spending as much of the remainder of the day as possible with Eowyn, for I knew it would be months before I saw her again, and I was going to miss my first woman friend. She spent a good bit of the afternoon extolling her brother's virtues, a project which he was all too willing to help her with personally. Elladan and Elrohir kept pretty much to themselves that day, except for a rather lengthy conversation with the Marshall of the Riders, and another, shorter one with Prince Imrahil.
That evening after dinner, as a treat for his guests, one of Eomer's riders with a most beautiful voice gave us one of their older songs about Eorl the Young. The King of Rohan made a point of sitting next to me so that he could translate. Since he did not want to detract from the performance, courtesy necessitated that he keep his translation little louder than a whisper, which of course made leaning close to my ear essential. I caught Elrohir giving him an annoyed look once or twice during the song, and Elladan giving his brother an amused one.
The song ended to great applause, which I joined in wholeheartedly, for it had been truly beautiful. Elladan and Elrohir spent some time talking to the Rider, and rather to my surprise, after a time someone brought a small traveling harp forward, and gave it to Elrohir. He and his brother then sat for a while with their heads close together, conferring, while his long, nimble fingers brought the harp into tune. Eventually, they got up and begged our indulgence to perform.
The song they sang had obviously been chosen to appeal to the Rohirrim, who loved songs of battle and heroic deaths, for they sang of the Last Alliance, and the fall of Gil-galad and Elendil. Elladan was the primary voice, for he was in fact a better singer than his brother, while Elrohir sang counterpoint and accompanied them on the harp.
"I can harp a little" indeed--he wrung sounds out of that modest instrument of few strings that I'm sure its owner never dreamed it could make. And as for the singing--they were twin brothers very much of one mind, who'd been practicing together for over 2500 years--of course they were incredible! They sang it in Westron, so that some at least could understand it, and here and there I saw a Rider lean over and do translating duty for his fellows. But even if you could not understand the words, the harmonies and musicianship were enthralling.
The Prince sat in his chair throughout the song, fingers steepled together and eyes half-closed, a pose very reminiscent of his nephew, seeming to drink the music in. He was certainly enjoying it greatly. The Rohirrim too gave credit where credit was due--there was a long silence at the conclusion of the song, then a huge roar of approval.
The twins stood, and bowed, and Elrohir returned the harp to its owner, who looked at the instrument as if it had been bewitched.
"I'm for bed," Eowyn told me, yawning. "You wore me out this morning! Think you we'll have time to do it again tomorrow?"
"I think the sons of Elrond wish to make an early start, niece," the Prince answered in my stead. Eowyn frowned a bit, disgruntled.
"I wish we'd had more time together," she growled. "We're only just now getting our strength back and beginning to enjoy the journey, and now you have to leave."
"I'll see you again when we come to Edoras," I consoled her "and one day you'll be living in Minas Tirith, and so will I, at least part of the time. Then we can spar every day, and terrify the court women." She seemed to take heart at this idea.
"Are you coming to bed, Hethlin?"
"In a bit. I think I'll go say goodnight to Fortune."
"Well, good night to you, then."
"Good night, Eowyn." She disappeared into our tent, and I stood to head toward the horse lines.
"I think I'll go with you if you don't mind, Hethlin," the Prince said. "I'd like to organize our things so as to make a quicker start in the morning."
"Of course, my lord." I was following him towards the horses when I saw something out of the corner of my eye that caused me to pause. Elladan was talking to Eomer, and the fingertips of one of his hands rested lightly on the King's golden-stubbled jaw. The expression on the erstwhile fiery King of Rohan's face was one I'd never seen before--I could almost have sworn it was panic. Certainly, he was white about the eyes, like a young horse suddenly confronted with a saddle. Wondering what that was all about, I hastened to catch up with my lord.
Fortune was most offended I'd forgotten to bring him anything, till the more thoughtful Prince split the piece of bread he'd brought for his stallion, Caerith, with me. Then, mollified, he allowed me to fuss over him a bit. Imrahil checked over the gear quickly, then came back to me.
"My bridle seems to have gone missing. You know what it looks like, do you not?"
"Aye, my lord." It was a beautiful piece of work, intricately braided leather with silver mountings graved with swan-ships upon it.
"That wagon over there has some saddles upon it. Would you mind checking to make sure it didn't end up there by mistake?"
"Of course, my lord." Feeling quite the helpful esquire, I made my way to the nearby baggage wagon, which was festooned with saddles hung there to keep them out of the damp grass. We had used the low limb of a nearby tree for ours. Having checked the near side with no success, I worked my way around the tailgate and to the far side. Eventually, it came to light, thrown into the bed of the wagon itself. I fancied that someone had found it lying on the ground and put it there to keep it dry till its owner could claim it. Snatching it up, I dropped from the wheel I'd stood on, and was starting back around the wagon to give it to my lord, when I heard voices and paused.
"Imrahil! Are you there?"
"Yes, Eomer, I'm over here. Might I help you in some way?"
"I need to talk to you about something."
"I am, of course, at your disposal, Your Majesty. What seems to be the problem?"
Eomer's voice dropped low, but the night air was quiet and I could still just barely hear him.
"One of those elf-lords, Elladan, he....I can't believe this! He just asked me.....he just asked me to play stallion to his mare! Or perhaps it was the other way around, or both, I'm not entirely sure....but anyway, there you have it, and what do I do now? If he were anyone else, I'd just gut him, or chop his head off, or maybe geld him, but he's Aragorn's foster brother! Oh Valar--you don't suppose Aragorn goes in for that sort of thing too? What am I going to do?" The King was as shaken as I'd never heard him before, and he sounded very young of a sudden.
"That rather depends on what you've done or said already," the Prince replied, in a voice so steady and gentle that I imagined it could calm a storm at sea. "What did you say to him when he asked you?" Eomer made an irritated growling sound.
"I didn't say anything, I was so surprised. I just made a weird-sounding noise and walked away from him." Imrahil gave a quiet chuckle.
"I think that Prince Elladan is astute enough that he would read that as a refusal, Eomer. I rather doubt that any further action on your part is necessary or required."
I wondered what I should do at this point--I did not wish to be eavesdropping on such a personal conversation, yet I did not want to reveal myself to Eomer and humiliate him further. It was while debating this that I noticed, unseen by Eomer, Imrahil's hand closest to me was making a small downward gesture repeatedly. I took that to mean I was to lie low, and ducked behind the wagon accordingly.
"But what if he doesn't, and asks me again?"
"Eomer, I cannot believe that someone who has commanded men from as young an age as you have has never encountered this before!" Imrahil's tone became less soothing and a bit more bracing. In response, Eomer became indignant.
"I have commanded Riders of the Mark! Virile men who ride their women and their horses, and naught else! The men of Rohan have no use for such perversions!" Imrahil sighed.
"Ah, but this is where we come up against cultural differences, I fear. From what little I know of Elves, they do not consider the act of love with another of the same sex to be a perversion, so long as both parties are willing. I daresay, if you live long enough, you try almost everything eventually. And rumor has it that Prince Elladan likes mortal Men in his bed, but only the most manly and virile ones. It is, if you choose to see it so, a compliment."
"A rather back-handed one, if you ask me!" growled Eomer. "And again, I ask you--what should I say to him?"
Imrahil didn't miss a beat. "I am flattered, my lord Prince, that you hold me in such high regard, but I fear I must inform you that my own predilections make any sort of physical union between us impossible." Eomer groaned.
"You've done this before, haven't you? You didn't even have to think about that! I'll bet that nest of elf-lovers down on the coast you rule is filled with people like him, isn't it?" Both amusement and a little irritation were palpable in the Prince's reply.
"No, Eomer, I'm simply fast on my feet. Comes of dealing with the Haradrim on a regular basis for forty years. Not to mention the rapacious ladies of Minas Tirith."
"Well, that's a fine, flowery Dol Amroth answer--what about something a Rider of the Mark can use?"
"How about 'No, thank you.'? I have it on good authority that many people have had success with that one." The suggestion was gently dry. Eomer sighed.
"I'm being an idiot here, aren't I?"
"You were, as you said, taken by surprise, and such things are disconcerting when they happen to you the first time."
"I am sorry to have troubled you, my lord prince."
"It was no trouble at all, my lord King," Imrahil replied warmly. "Your sister is a lovely young lady, and I look forward to welcoming both of you into my family. I know that Theoden King stood as a father to you, and that you miss him greatly. I would hope that you know you may call upon me for such advice as I can give."
"On the rare occasions we're both in the same place, I assuredly will," Eomer replied. I heard the sound of some sort of movement, then footsteps moving away. I suspected a farewell manly clasp of arms--it was doubtful that Eomer was up to any more than that at present.
When I was sure that the King had departed, I came back around the wagon, bridle in hand, to find my liege lord with his face buried in Caerith's mane, his shoulders shaking. I waited patiently till he had recovered somewhat, standing back up and wiping tears from his eyes. He was still chuckling. "Oh, that poor lad! You found the bridle, did you, Hethlin? Excellent! And clever of you, to realize what I wanted you to do."
"The Rangers use hand signals some, sir--though we use whistles more. Different bird calls for different things, and some other whistles."
"Indeed? Well, I apologize for making you listen to that. I hoped that you might decide to go on back to camp."
"I thought about it--it was such a personal conversation. But I was afraid he'd see me if I moved."
"You acted wisely. Though I regret broadening your education in such a manner."
"In truth, I still don't understand entirely what you were talking about, though the description does...suggest certain things." Imrahil took the bridle from me, and moved to hang it with his saddle.
"Suffice it to say that there are men who prefer to sleep with men, and women who prefer women, and in most nations of men, these are considered perversions, heresy or worse. The general feeling seems to be that these people choose to behave in this manner, but I'm not so sure. I find it difficult to imagine someone knowingly choosing a course of behavior that causes them so much trouble and grief. I suspect it is something simply within an individual's nature. And if they are in fact born that way, it can hardly be said to be unnatural. Perhaps I'm too Elvish in my attitude, but so long as the two parties are both of age, acting of their own volition, and no children are involved, I do not get exercised over the matter. Certainly, I've never prosecuted anyone for such things within my demesne." I took a last look around, to make sure all was in order.
"Has anyone ever offered to play stallion to your mare, or the other way around?" I asked curiously, emboldened by the frank discussion. The Prince raised an eyebrow, and gave me a very bland smile.
"I was a comely enough lad, when I was young," was all he said, and with a last pat of his horse's neck, started towards his tent. "Good night, Hethlin, go get some sleep. You'll need the rest, if we have the ride the twins promise us on the morrow."
"Good night, my lord," I responded, and turned to go to the tent I shared with Eowyn. In returning there, I walked by the campfire where we'd sat earlier that evening. The chairs were still there, including Eomer's throne-like one. As before, Elrohir had claimed it for his own, and having reacquired the harp, was leaning back, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, and strumming it softly, making sweet Elven music in the night.
"An interesting evening, Snowsteel?" he inquired softly, never ceasing his play.
"Interesting enough," I owned, smiling down at him. "Your music was so lovely. You and Elladan perform so magnificently together." His eyes crinkled in pleasure.
"Don't we just?" he agreed amiably. "Truer words were never spoken than those by the mortal who said 'Bare is back without brother.'. So much truth, on so many levels." His mouth curled up slowly into a sweetly evil smile, and I was reminded both of his annoyed looks at Eomer during the music and of the King's words to me the night we had dinner at the Citadel--"I guarantee you that any mischief they've done in the world has all been done in tandem.". He watched my eyes widen in realization, and chuckled.
"Good night, Snowsteel."
"Good night, Elrohir." I then fled to my tent, pondering anew the wisdom of traveling alone in the Wild with the two of them.