Author's Note--Well, at least I get them on the road in this chapter......and what happens later on in this chapter has nothing to do with the pirate jokes on Henneth-Annun. Really, it doesn't........
The touch of a hand on my shoulder woke me the next morning. "Up with you Hethlin," said my liege lord's voice quietly. "We're going to breakfast and start early." I nodded an acknowledgment, then heard him withdraw. I opened my eyes, and found that light but dimly penetrated the tent canvas, so the sun was not yet up. Rolling out of my bedroll, I pulled on stockings and boots, then my tunic and swordbelt, being as quiet as possible so as to not wake my tentmate.
Eowyn slept sweetly in the growing light, her hair spilled like molten gold upon the pillow, her pale pink lips slightly parted. Her lashes lay like golden tracery upon her white cheeks. She was truly exquisite, like some angelic vision of an enchanted princess from days of old, and I gazed fondly down upon her, my new, dear friend. I was going to miss her greatly over the next few months. Silently, I checked the pitcher and found but a small bit of water left, not enough to wash my hands and face, but enough to serve another purpose. With a loving smile, I upended it over Eowyn's head, then dropped it and bolted from the tent to the accompaniment of some extremely foul oaths shouted at a volume guaranteed to wake every living thing within a five mile radius of the camp.
Indeed, heads started sticking out of tents and queries about the camp being attacked began to be shouted in Rohirric. Responding to the excitement, horses started to whinny and bugle. I slowed my flight to a leisurely saunter, and approached the cook fires, where the cooks were already hard at work producing breakfast. My lord stood there, slightly bleary-eyed and tousled, his hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea. He looked in the direction of our tent, and lifted an eyebrow. I secured my own mug of tea, managing to avoid his glance in the process, and began to sip it, eyes cast demurely downward.
Eomer burst out of his tent, a beautiful example of well-muscled manhood--barechested, barefoot and buttoning his breeches as he came. "Is that 'Wyn making all that racket?" he demanded. "What ails the girl?"
"I'm sure I don't know, Eomer," responded the Prince. "Perhaps Hethlin can shed some light on the problem."
"Perhaps she was rising, and stubbed her toe upon something," I suggested. "I left my helm in a bad place, I fear." Imrahil gave me a very dry look, but the King of Rohan nodded and smiled, brilliant as the sun just now peeping over the horizon.
"I hate it when that happens to me," he said, and looking down at his relatively unclad form, pretended an embarrassment he very obviously didn't feel.
"My apologies, Lady Hethlin, to appear before you thusly. I was afraid that the camp was under attack."
"My lord king, you are ill-prepared then, for you seem to have left your sword behind." Having given him such an opening, I was not surprised when he took advantage of it.
"Oh, I am never weaponless, lady, though I fear the sword I bear now is ill-suited to that sort of fight."
"Indeed?" I asked, pretending ignorance of his meaning. Prince Imrahil groaned.
"Not before breakfast, if you please, Eomer," he begged. Eomer grinned, but suddenly the grin faded, to be replaced by a wary look as he watched something behind me. A slender arm slid about my waist and a silky raven head came into my field of vision. Rather to my amazement, a pair of soft Elven lips brushed my cheek. "Good morrow to you, Snowsteel." A certain tension left Eomer's body.
"Good morning, Prince Elrohir," he said to the Elf who held me within the circle of his arm, the Elf from whom I could feel nothing but a faint residual echo though we were in close proximity, the Elf who turned his head to me and closed the limpid gray eye the King could not see in a wicked wink.
"Good morning, Eomer King," Elladan replied courteously, to be echoed by his brother, who was standing right behind Eomer, having soundlessly ghosted up while the King was engrossed in watching Elladan and me. Eomer jerked, and spun around, to be greeted by a searching silver glance that raked him from his head to his toes and back again. "You're looking very well this morning. What a fetching outfit--what there is of it."
"Yes. Well. Thank you, Prince Elladan. Now that you mention it, it is a bit chilly. So if you'll excuse me." Eomer stalked back to his tent with as much dignity as he could muster, trying to keep a weather eye out over his shoulder without seeming to do so. Elladan chuckled soundlessly beside me. His brother gave him a disgruntled look.
"Do you mind?" he growled, indicating me. Elladan snuggled in a little closer.
"Not at all," he replied happily. I looked over at my liege lord, who was watching all of this with the air of a man examining the strange habits of the exotic animals at a menagerie.
"Well, I mind," I said, detaching myself from Elladan. "I should like my breakfast." Elladan gave me a mournful look.
"I could have fed you, Snowsteel. Honey and berries and cream."
"Strange. I see bacon and eggs and toast and porridge over there." He smiled sweetly.
"They would have seemed like honey and berries and cream, had I the feeding of you." I pondered what seemed to be a strange role-reversal between the twins this morning. Imrahil just sighed, and went to get himself a plate.
"She'd get dirt and twigs, had I the making of her breakfast," declared Eowyn, marching towards us and rubbing her hair dry with a towel.
"Ah, if it is not the dew-bedecked golden flower of Rohan!" I declared. She gave me a half-hearted glare.
"I ought to bedeck you!" she snorted. "Though I suppose I had that coming." To her credit, Eowyn was not one of those who could dish out abuse but not take it.
"I didn't want to miss saying goodbye to you," I told her, and she smiled.
"An 'Eowyn, awake!' would have served just as well."
"Aye, but not been half so much fun!" She snorted again.
"Was that Eomer I heard out here? Where did he get to?"
"He went in search of his lost clothing, my lady," declared Elladan, his own grave self once more. She raised her eyebrows.
"He didn't come out here in the altogether, did he?"
"He was not together by any means, my lady, but neither was he entirely unclothed," answered Elrohir with equal gravity. The twins looked at each other and exchanged evil smiles. Eowyn shuddered.
"They frighten me when they do that," she confessed to me in a whisper.
"That is because you are a wise and sensible woman," I whispered back, then aloud, told her, "Come! If I do not eat my breakfast soon, my lord will make me ride without it, cruel taskmaster that he is." There was a chuckle from Imrahil's direction, as Eowyn and I went to get our food.
Eomer did not appear again until we'd had breakfast, saddled our horses, and were preparing to leave, and when he did, he was dressed and armored and very much in his role as Eomer King. To Prince Imrahil he gave a writ with his seal, so that we might pass unhindered through the marches of the Mark, and a cordial clasp of arms. After some hesitation, he also clasped arms with Elladan and Elrohir, who under Imrahil's stern eye were perfect models of decorum, though they each claimed to be the other once again. Finally, he turned to where I stood with Eowyn, grasped my right arm with his left, pulled me forward, tipped my head back and planted a quick, hard kiss on my lips.
My first impulse was to clout him up side of the head, but I restrained myself. My second impulse was to jump backwards in blind panic and yank myself out of his grip, but I did not do that either. Instead, I took a deep breath, a step back, and gave him a wry smile.
"I appear to be quite the recipient of royal favor this morn," I said lightly. "You honor me overmuch, my lord king. The next time we part, I shall insist you say farewell to all who ride with me in the same manner as you do me." As if on cue, Elrohir and Elladan moved both their horses a step closer, identical looks of polite interest on both their faces. Eomer looked at them, and his eyes widened just the slightest bit.
"How very even-handed of you, Lady Hethlin." I simply nodded, turned with relief to Eowyn, and gave her a hug.
"He really likes you, you know," she whispered in my ear.
"I rather noticed that," I replied. "You take care of yourself. I'll see you in a few months."
"Look after Faramir for me." I raised an eyebrow at her.
"Now that is cold and cruel, lady!" She grinned wickedly.
"I trust you more than any of those court wenches! After all, you've been doing it for years!" I nodded, turned from her, and mounted Fortune. One of Eomer's esquires brought the stirrup cup, and he offered it to each of us in turn, giving me one of his blinding smiles. Prince Imrahil seemed rather withdrawn all of a sudden, though I could feel his eyes upon me, and the very moment the last toast had been made, he whirled his rather restive stallion about and took off down the road at a gallop, leaving the three of us momentarily taken aback. We quickly urged our horses to follow him, and I waved once more to Eowyn as I left, though I did not look back.
We were a good mile down the Road before Imrahil drew rein, and we settled to a ground-covering trot. Caerith was still snorting and tossing his head, wanting to run some more, but his master restrained him, stroking his crest with a gentle hand.
"We can leave the Road at any time, my lord," Elrohir suggested. Imrahil nodded.
"Let us do so then. And gentlemen, ride ahead or behind as you please, but I should like some privacy to speak with Hethlin." As I expected they would, the sons of Elrond immediately cantered ahead of us, staying in sight but opening a sufficient distance between us that we could be assured that even Elven ears would not hear what we spoke of.
The Prince did not immediately speak after we'd been left alone. We rode on in silence, and I looked over at him somewhat hesitantly, wondering if I'd behaved wrongly with the King in some way. With a sinking heart, I noticed certain things typical of Faramir when he was very angry--the same tight-held mouth, the studied blankness of expression, the smoldering grey eyes. I was sure his hands were white-knuckled within their gloves. I envisioned being given back to Aragorn in disgrace when this journey was finished.
"I do not believe that Eomer knows what happened to you on the Pelennor, Hethlin," he finally said tersely. "At least I'd like to think that. I need you to be honest with me right now--are you attracted to Eomer in any way? Is there a desire in you to be the Queen of Rohan?"
"If the Steward of Gondor cannot wed a barren woman, the King of Rohan certainly cannot do so," I said tentatively.
"I did not ask what Eomer can or cannot do!" he snapped. "I asked if you have any sort of liking or affection for the man." My ire rose in response to his.
"Have you seen any sign that I have encouraged him, my lord? I like him as the brother of my friend Eowyn. But my affections are not so easily given, and you know who holds my heart. I am not attracted to him as he is to me." Then, aghast at my impertinence, I asked in a much meeker tone, "Did I do something wrong, my lord? I wasn't sure what to do!" Some of the anger left his eyes, though they still glinted dangerously, and his mouth softened in concern. Even before he spoke, I realized that he hadn't been angry at me, he'd been angry for me.
"Oh no, child, you did just as you should! That was a most impressive display of control, and I am very proud of you." I slumped in my saddle in relief and gave him a wan smile. "What I wish to know is if you are all right."
"I am well enough, my lord,:" I assured him. "He simply startled me, that's all." Prince Imrahil sighed, and relaxed somewhat.
"Well, let us hope that a few months absence will cool his ardor, or perhaps redirect it. If it does not, I will have a word with him." I gave him a wide-eyed look of concern, and he chuckled softly. "No personal details, Hethlin--I shall simply tell him you think upon him as a friend and would prefer he treat you as such."
"My lord, I am capable of telling him that myself, should it come to it." The last of the anger in his eyes vanished, to be replaced with a gleam of approval.
"Indeed. And it is your place to do so, rather than mine. But if you are intimidated by Eomer's rank when the time comes, then tell me, and I will do it, for you are my esquire and a lady in my keeping, and it is my duty to see that nothing uncomfortable befalls you-outside of course, of the inevitable discomfort of your training." We trotted along in silence for a few moments, then I said, "I do not recollect that you became angry when the Elf Prince kissed me this morning, my lord."
"You did not seem to object to the Elf Prince's attentions. You certainly didn't get that slightly panicky look on your face. What, did you think I was the ogre guarding your tower, lady? It is not so, I assure you. I have better things to do than chastise your suitors--unless those suitors are unwelcome."
"I like King Eomer, really I do, but it seems unfair to encourage him when nothing can come of it. Though I suppose we could enjoy something outside of marriage. I don't know how I feel about that. Elrohir says my situation gives me an advantage because I can take lovers without worrying about having a baby." I did not mention that Imrahil had been on the list of candidates Elrohir had put forward.
"It seems a high price to pay for that sort of freedom," the Prince said quietly. I nodded vigorously.
"Exactly! I'm sure there are court ladies who would like to have my problem, but I like children! Mother didn't have my brother until I was twelve, and my little sister came when I was fourteen, and I loved helping her take care of them. I'd like to have some of my own some day." He smiled kindly at that, and reached across the gap between us to pat my hand.
"Then I hope that we can find some help for you among the Elves, Hethlin, for I suspect you'd be a very good mother. Shall we rejoin the others, before they have a chance to plot too much mischief?" I nodded, and we sent Caerith and Fortune into a gallop.
We were in the Eastfold, heading north and west, our first destination a bend in the Entwash where the river was narrow and shallow, and horses could swim across fairly easily. The land was gently rolling, with occasional copses of trees, and we made good time, pushing hard, for we wanted to ford the river with plenty of daylight left, so that we might have a chance of drying out before night set in.
The sons of Elrond continued to precede us, riding almost knee to knee, their keen eyes continually scanning the horizon for trouble. The Prince and I kept an eye out as well, but after our conversation of the morning, there was little talk between us. I was enjoying actually being out in the Wild once more, watching for birds and the scampering of rabbits or other small animals, noting which plants were flowering, and which had done so already. He seemed to be engaged in much the same sort of thing, and the only times we talked were when he pointed out something, or asked me a question about one of the flowers we saw. From things he said, I gathered that there were flowers that grew in Dol Amroth that did not flourish here, and some here that would not grow on the coast.
"What about oranges?" I asked at one point, and when he inquired about the reason for my interest, I told him about Elrohir's passion for them, which made him laugh.
"Actually, there are several trees in my gardens, but they don't fruit reliably. If the winter is cold at all, we lose the fruit. The blossoms are lovely though, and they have the most delightful smell. I import oranges from Harad when they're in season. You might be able to grow them in South Ithilien, down around Poros--should we ever get the border settled enough." When I recounted what Elrohir had said about his grandmother growing some in Lorien, he was quite impressed. "We will be seeing some wondrous things there, Hethlin. I'm very glad I got the chance to go."
"I'm glad you got the chance as well, sir." And we settled into companionable silence once more.
Mid afternoon, we reached the Entwash, glittering in the sun, its banks boggy and reedy. The twins had in fact picked a very good place to cross, a portion where it narrowed after splitting into two streams and reforming.
"Fish for dinner tonight, I think," declared Elrohir. "My lord, if it suits you, I propose we cross, make camp on the far bank and spread our things out to dry there."
Imrahil nodded agreement, then looked over at me. "Have you ever swum a horse across a river, Hethlin?"
"Arcag, once, over to Cair Andros. He didn't like it much." I reflected for a moment. "Then again, there wasn't much he did like."
"Well, if you've done the Anduin, this will be a duck pond. And Fortune is good in the water, unlike some I could name who think it an excuse for a good roll." And he slapped Caerith's neck affectionately. So it was that we unbuckled our saddlebags, bows and bedrolls and food sacks, and held them above our heads in an effort to keep them dry. I gave the King's letter to Prince Imrahil, whose arms were a little longer than mine. The horses went into the water willingly enough, pushing off powerfully when the water got deep, till only their heads were above the water. The river was shallow enough that I could feel their hooves hit bottom a couple of times during the passage. We were all of us thoroughly soaked from the neck down by the time it was over, but we had had some success in keeping our essential items dry.
We came up out of the river with water pouring off of us, the Prince booting Caerith hard when as predicted, he decided that he wanted to roll in the mud of the riverbank. Fortune did not roll, but once we were well out of the water, he decided to shake himself off while I was still on him, thoroughly rattling my teeth in the process. Elrohir chuckled. He and Elladan were already stripping the elven horses of their tack, and turning them loose. He indicated a copse of trees at the top of the bank.
"Elladan and I will find some supper, if the two of you will set up camp." He had taken a length of cord from his saddlebags, and was tying it to an arrow, while his brother did the same.
"You may turn your horses loose as well," Elladan said. "Nimfaun and Alagos will see to it that they do not stray. And they will be more comfortable if they are free." The Prince agreed to this plan, but we walked them up the hill before we unsaddled them, that they might carry their gear to its resting place. Once released, Caerith charged right back down to the riverbank to roll, and for the first time I heard the Prince of Dol Amroth curse, for despite Elrohir and Elladan also cursing him in Elvish about scaring away the fish and muddying the water, the stallion persisted until his beautiful silvery coat was liberally coated with green-brown slime.
"I have a stiff brush, my lord," I told Imrahil sympathetically.
"It almost makes me wish it would rain tonight, when I really have no desire to be anything but dry," said the Prince, bending over and sliding out of his hauberk. "He's always been like this. Perfect manners, perfect gaits, perfect mouth, a great war horse--and a pig where muck is concerned. One can't have everything, I suppose." I struggled out of my mail as well, and we spread the coats in a patch of sunshine.
"They're going to rust, you know," said the Prince glumly. "Well, perhaps they'll have sand barrels in Lorien, or clean them for us with Elven magic." We then spent a busy time setting saddles, armor and padding in the sun to dry as best they might. We wrung the heavy gambesons and cloaks out together, Imrahil taking one end, and I the other, and twisting them in opposite directions. I went down the hill and dragged the elven equipment up with ours. Elladan and Elrohir were in shirts and breeches, sleeves and legs rolled up, stalking like strange-looking herons in the river, bows aimed at the water.
When we had done all we could to take advantage of the fading afternoon sun, the Prince suggested I go ahead and get a bath downstream of the Elves and change out of my wet things. He was busy building a fire pit, and I said I would when I'd gathered the wood for it, since by the triumphant noises coming from the river, our supper was not far off.
So I took the small hatchet I carried strapped to my saddle and went in search of deadfall. Fortunately, a tree had fallen in the small copse, and it was the work of a few minutes to hew off some sizable, well-seasoned branches, and chop them to a usable size, though it raised new blisters on my hands, which had become unaccustomed to such work. I'd worked up a completely different set of blisters clerking. A strange thought occurred to me as I chopped--I wondered if the Prince's odd third son, Amrothos, could tell what people did for a living from the calluses on their hands.
He asked me what I was chuckling about when I returned, and when I told him, he laughed as well. "It's a possibility. 'Rothos gets interested in the strangest things--he studied Haradrim poisons in some depth last year. The less said about that, the better! Before that, he was comparing the rates at which different metals rusted or corroded, and the gardeners were wroth because there were these ingots scattered all over the gardens. I had to make him move those. Every time I come home it's something different."
"It sounds like life is interesting there, at least." I handed him the branches I'd collected, and watched somewhat critically for a moment, but for a Prince he laid a competent fire.
"Oh yes. Every time someone complains about one of his little experiments, 'Rothos agrees to end it--and proclaims that his next subject of study will be serpents or scorpions or stinging flies. That usually quiets them right down. Go get your bath, Hethlin."
I did as my lord commanded, taking my dry things and sword belt and soap down to the river, and had a most refreshing time of it. I missed that wonderful elven towel of Elrohir's, for it was not much fun pulling dry clothes on over my damp skin, but at least I was clean, and after a bit relatively dry. I returned to the camp to find the fire burning well, the fish cleaned and roasting on sticks lashed over it, and the twins heading back down to the river for their baths. The Prince was lashing together a framework of green limbs to set near the fire and dry clothes, and he'd hung some clothing from nearby branches as well.
"The dew will be falling soon, so I thought it better to bring them under the trees. Better to smell like smoke and be dry, then river water and soggy. Though I suspect that even with extraordinary efforts, things are still going to be somewhat moist tomorrow."
"I didn't even think twice about this sort of thing much when I was in Ithilien," I commented. "It's only taken a couple of months in the City to make me soft."
"It doesn't take long to get accustomed to the comforts of life," Imrahil agreed. I helped him turn the fish, and set out some bread and cheese and dried apple slices from the food sack. Elladan and Elrohir soon returned, still shirtless and drying their hair and promised to finish preparing the supper while the Prince finally got his bath. Elladan tossed him his towel. He started down to the river, and after a moment's consideration, I took up my bow and followed him, situating myself with my back to the river and a good vantage of the bank to either side.
He made no comment about my presence--he must have become resigned a long time ago to always having people about him. And very little time passed before the sounds of splashing ceased and I heard him coming up the bank behind me.
"You can turn around now, Hethlin." I did so and found him in breeches and untucked shirt, rubbing the towel over his hair in amazement. "The Elves make the most extraordinary things," was his bemused comment.
"You just wring it out, and it's almost dry again," I told him, "And it folds up very small." He wrung it, and touched it, and shook his head.
"I think I feel a covetous moment coming on. Such a thing would be incredibly convenient on a long campaign."
"Perhaps they'll have them in Lorien," I suggested. Imrahil grinned.
"Perhaps they will," he agreed, "But it's a poor guest who steals the towels when he leaves, don't you think?" Laughing, we went back up the hill to find that the elves had fancied up the meal considerably in our absence, toasting the cheese on slices of bread, and soaking the dried apples in a small bowl of wine, then dolloping them with honey.
"Where did you get honey?" I demanded of Elrohir, who simply looked smug. "I shall expect some for my tea in the morning."
"Perhaps, Snowsteel," he purred, "If you're very sweet to me in return." I sighed, shook my head in disbelief, and sat down to one of the finest wilderness meals I'd ever had. We blew on hot bits of fish and ate them with our fingers, dipped apples out of the communal bowl, gobbled the bread and cheese, and passed around the Prince's wineskin till things got quite jolly. Eventually, replete and warm, we all sat back and stared owlishly at the fire. Elrohir was leaning back against the trunk of the nearest tree, and after a moment, Elladan slid down and laid his head in his brother's lap, whereupon Elrohir's hand began gently stroking his brother's raven head, as one would thoughtlessly stroke a cat in one's lap.
"Elladan and I sang for our supper last night," he declared, "So one of you must entertain us now." He gave me a meaningful look, and I gaped at him in utter panic. The frogs on the riverbank below us had better singing voices than I did, and the Rangers had long ago learned not to include me in their rare song-fests. And I knew no piece of epic poetry well enough to recite it. My look of horror must have been so profound that it prompted in him a rare expression of mercy, for he did not press the issue. Instead, he turned to my lord.
"My lord Prince, your esquire has failed this challenge of arms. As her lord, it is your duty to take up the challenge yourself." Imrahil cocked his head to one side and gave him the princely eyebrow full force.
"You realize, that because of my position, I am more a patron of the arts than a participant in them." Having relented once this evening, Elrohir was not inclined to do so again.
"But you, my lord, have had the advantage of a princely education in a highly cultured land. Surely a man who has had to debate the Council of Minas Tirith most of his life can tell a simple story." Imrahil took the wineskin from him, and drank a deep draught from it.
"A simple story, you said? Will honor be served by any sort of story at all?" Elrohir declared that it would, whereupon the Prince took another swig of the wine, dragged the back of his hand across his mouth like the veriest peasant, said quietly and seemingly to himself, "Whyever not?" He tipped his head back, his eyes closed, and announced, "Here is the tale of the Dread Pirate Elchirion and the Seventh Stone of Saranac." When he looked back at us, there was a slightly manic gleam in his eye I'd never seen before. He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and began.
What followed had to be one of the funniest half hours of my life, as Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth proceeded to tell a bedtime story to the sons of Elrond-- about the Dread Pirate Elchirion, his First Mate and explosives expert Amrothos, his Second Mate and dress and customs expert Lothiriel, and their quest to find the Seventh Stone of Saranac to break a heinous curse that had been laid upon Good King Elphir. He did their voices and the voices of everyone they met in the course of their misadventures, each one distinct and never confused with another--the pirate and his crew, the poor, cursed sovereign, the King of the Sea, the Naked Woolly Bear, the Great Sea Serpent, the Queen of the Island of the Woman Warriors, and the Two-Toed Upside Down Treecat--and his voice and face and gestures were so expressive that he made the whole silly tale come alive.
The wineskin had unfortunately come round to me about the time the tale reached its horrific climax and the Dread Pirate Elchirion had to make the ultimate sacrifice to obtain at long last the true Seventh Stone--he had to Kiss a Girl. I laughed at the wrong moment, and ended up with a noseful of wine. Elrohir handed me his handkerchief, laughing softly, and Elladan sat up, laughing as well. Prince Imrahil brought the story to a satisfying and triumphant conclusion, with the good king saved, and the heroes sailing off to new adventures, and we all applauded mightily, while he sat and with becoming modestly accepted our accolades.
"A well-told tale, my lord," Elrohir declared. "Honor is satisfied. And we are so satisfied that we wish you to take the last watch. Elladan and I will do the mid-watches, and Hethlin the first, since I'm sure she's wide awake now." That I was, now that the burning in my nose had subsided, and I went and got my bow and laid it close to hand by the fire.
"I'll lay your blankets out for you if you like, Hethlin, while I'm doing mine," the Prince offered, cool and courteous once more.
"Thank you, my lord. Did you make all of that up yourself?"
"All tales are related, child, or so the Elves say. I but gathered a few poor fragments, and put them together."
"Well, you put them together marvelously well. I haven't laughed that hard in months!"
"I'm glad you enjoyed it." And indeed, I could hear the pleasure in his voice. "Good night, Hethlin."
"Good night, my lord." I moved about the fire, turning and rearranging some of the clothing so that it could finish drying, and listening to the others as they bedded down for the night. Elladan and Elrohir were talking quietly.
"He does voices very well," Elladan declared rather sleepily. "Do you remember, brother, when Glorfindel would tell us stories and sometimes he would do the voices if we begged him to?"
"Yes."
"Father never did voices when he told us stories."
"No, but they were good stories nonetheless."
"True enough. But I always liked the stories with the voices best. I think that Imrahil does voices better than Glorfindel did."
"I don't think I'd be telling Glorfindel he's been outdone by a mortal in anything, brother--unless you really want months of arms lessons at the hand of the Balrog-slayer!"
"Perhaps you're right, brother. Good night."
"Good night, Elladan."
Silence fell, and I sat watching the moon rise through the branches of the trees, smiling now and again at some remembered silliness from the story, and wondering exactly who Glorfindel was and what a Balrog might be.
The touch of a hand on my shoulder woke me the next morning. "Up with you Hethlin," said my liege lord's voice quietly. "We're going to breakfast and start early." I nodded an acknowledgment, then heard him withdraw. I opened my eyes, and found that light but dimly penetrated the tent canvas, so the sun was not yet up. Rolling out of my bedroll, I pulled on stockings and boots, then my tunic and swordbelt, being as quiet as possible so as to not wake my tentmate.
Eowyn slept sweetly in the growing light, her hair spilled like molten gold upon the pillow, her pale pink lips slightly parted. Her lashes lay like golden tracery upon her white cheeks. She was truly exquisite, like some angelic vision of an enchanted princess from days of old, and I gazed fondly down upon her, my new, dear friend. I was going to miss her greatly over the next few months. Silently, I checked the pitcher and found but a small bit of water left, not enough to wash my hands and face, but enough to serve another purpose. With a loving smile, I upended it over Eowyn's head, then dropped it and bolted from the tent to the accompaniment of some extremely foul oaths shouted at a volume guaranteed to wake every living thing within a five mile radius of the camp.
Indeed, heads started sticking out of tents and queries about the camp being attacked began to be shouted in Rohirric. Responding to the excitement, horses started to whinny and bugle. I slowed my flight to a leisurely saunter, and approached the cook fires, where the cooks were already hard at work producing breakfast. My lord stood there, slightly bleary-eyed and tousled, his hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea. He looked in the direction of our tent, and lifted an eyebrow. I secured my own mug of tea, managing to avoid his glance in the process, and began to sip it, eyes cast demurely downward.
Eomer burst out of his tent, a beautiful example of well-muscled manhood--barechested, barefoot and buttoning his breeches as he came. "Is that 'Wyn making all that racket?" he demanded. "What ails the girl?"
"I'm sure I don't know, Eomer," responded the Prince. "Perhaps Hethlin can shed some light on the problem."
"Perhaps she was rising, and stubbed her toe upon something," I suggested. "I left my helm in a bad place, I fear." Imrahil gave me a very dry look, but the King of Rohan nodded and smiled, brilliant as the sun just now peeping over the horizon.
"I hate it when that happens to me," he said, and looking down at his relatively unclad form, pretended an embarrassment he very obviously didn't feel.
"My apologies, Lady Hethlin, to appear before you thusly. I was afraid that the camp was under attack."
"My lord king, you are ill-prepared then, for you seem to have left your sword behind." Having given him such an opening, I was not surprised when he took advantage of it.
"Oh, I am never weaponless, lady, though I fear the sword I bear now is ill-suited to that sort of fight."
"Indeed?" I asked, pretending ignorance of his meaning. Prince Imrahil groaned.
"Not before breakfast, if you please, Eomer," he begged. Eomer grinned, but suddenly the grin faded, to be replaced by a wary look as he watched something behind me. A slender arm slid about my waist and a silky raven head came into my field of vision. Rather to my amazement, a pair of soft Elven lips brushed my cheek. "Good morrow to you, Snowsteel." A certain tension left Eomer's body.
"Good morning, Prince Elrohir," he said to the Elf who held me within the circle of his arm, the Elf from whom I could feel nothing but a faint residual echo though we were in close proximity, the Elf who turned his head to me and closed the limpid gray eye the King could not see in a wicked wink.
"Good morning, Eomer King," Elladan replied courteously, to be echoed by his brother, who was standing right behind Eomer, having soundlessly ghosted up while the King was engrossed in watching Elladan and me. Eomer jerked, and spun around, to be greeted by a searching silver glance that raked him from his head to his toes and back again. "You're looking very well this morning. What a fetching outfit--what there is of it."
"Yes. Well. Thank you, Prince Elladan. Now that you mention it, it is a bit chilly. So if you'll excuse me." Eomer stalked back to his tent with as much dignity as he could muster, trying to keep a weather eye out over his shoulder without seeming to do so. Elladan chuckled soundlessly beside me. His brother gave him a disgruntled look.
"Do you mind?" he growled, indicating me. Elladan snuggled in a little closer.
"Not at all," he replied happily. I looked over at my liege lord, who was watching all of this with the air of a man examining the strange habits of the exotic animals at a menagerie.
"Well, I mind," I said, detaching myself from Elladan. "I should like my breakfast." Elladan gave me a mournful look.
"I could have fed you, Snowsteel. Honey and berries and cream."
"Strange. I see bacon and eggs and toast and porridge over there." He smiled sweetly.
"They would have seemed like honey and berries and cream, had I the feeding of you." I pondered what seemed to be a strange role-reversal between the twins this morning. Imrahil just sighed, and went to get himself a plate.
"She'd get dirt and twigs, had I the making of her breakfast," declared Eowyn, marching towards us and rubbing her hair dry with a towel.
"Ah, if it is not the dew-bedecked golden flower of Rohan!" I declared. She gave me a half-hearted glare.
"I ought to bedeck you!" she snorted. "Though I suppose I had that coming." To her credit, Eowyn was not one of those who could dish out abuse but not take it.
"I didn't want to miss saying goodbye to you," I told her, and she smiled.
"An 'Eowyn, awake!' would have served just as well."
"Aye, but not been half so much fun!" She snorted again.
"Was that Eomer I heard out here? Where did he get to?"
"He went in search of his lost clothing, my lady," declared Elladan, his own grave self once more. She raised her eyebrows.
"He didn't come out here in the altogether, did he?"
"He was not together by any means, my lady, but neither was he entirely unclothed," answered Elrohir with equal gravity. The twins looked at each other and exchanged evil smiles. Eowyn shuddered.
"They frighten me when they do that," she confessed to me in a whisper.
"That is because you are a wise and sensible woman," I whispered back, then aloud, told her, "Come! If I do not eat my breakfast soon, my lord will make me ride without it, cruel taskmaster that he is." There was a chuckle from Imrahil's direction, as Eowyn and I went to get our food.
Eomer did not appear again until we'd had breakfast, saddled our horses, and were preparing to leave, and when he did, he was dressed and armored and very much in his role as Eomer King. To Prince Imrahil he gave a writ with his seal, so that we might pass unhindered through the marches of the Mark, and a cordial clasp of arms. After some hesitation, he also clasped arms with Elladan and Elrohir, who under Imrahil's stern eye were perfect models of decorum, though they each claimed to be the other once again. Finally, he turned to where I stood with Eowyn, grasped my right arm with his left, pulled me forward, tipped my head back and planted a quick, hard kiss on my lips.
My first impulse was to clout him up side of the head, but I restrained myself. My second impulse was to jump backwards in blind panic and yank myself out of his grip, but I did not do that either. Instead, I took a deep breath, a step back, and gave him a wry smile.
"I appear to be quite the recipient of royal favor this morn," I said lightly. "You honor me overmuch, my lord king. The next time we part, I shall insist you say farewell to all who ride with me in the same manner as you do me." As if on cue, Elrohir and Elladan moved both their horses a step closer, identical looks of polite interest on both their faces. Eomer looked at them, and his eyes widened just the slightest bit.
"How very even-handed of you, Lady Hethlin." I simply nodded, turned with relief to Eowyn, and gave her a hug.
"He really likes you, you know," she whispered in my ear.
"I rather noticed that," I replied. "You take care of yourself. I'll see you in a few months."
"Look after Faramir for me." I raised an eyebrow at her.
"Now that is cold and cruel, lady!" She grinned wickedly.
"I trust you more than any of those court wenches! After all, you've been doing it for years!" I nodded, turned from her, and mounted Fortune. One of Eomer's esquires brought the stirrup cup, and he offered it to each of us in turn, giving me one of his blinding smiles. Prince Imrahil seemed rather withdrawn all of a sudden, though I could feel his eyes upon me, and the very moment the last toast had been made, he whirled his rather restive stallion about and took off down the road at a gallop, leaving the three of us momentarily taken aback. We quickly urged our horses to follow him, and I waved once more to Eowyn as I left, though I did not look back.
We were a good mile down the Road before Imrahil drew rein, and we settled to a ground-covering trot. Caerith was still snorting and tossing his head, wanting to run some more, but his master restrained him, stroking his crest with a gentle hand.
"We can leave the Road at any time, my lord," Elrohir suggested. Imrahil nodded.
"Let us do so then. And gentlemen, ride ahead or behind as you please, but I should like some privacy to speak with Hethlin." As I expected they would, the sons of Elrond immediately cantered ahead of us, staying in sight but opening a sufficient distance between us that we could be assured that even Elven ears would not hear what we spoke of.
The Prince did not immediately speak after we'd been left alone. We rode on in silence, and I looked over at him somewhat hesitantly, wondering if I'd behaved wrongly with the King in some way. With a sinking heart, I noticed certain things typical of Faramir when he was very angry--the same tight-held mouth, the studied blankness of expression, the smoldering grey eyes. I was sure his hands were white-knuckled within their gloves. I envisioned being given back to Aragorn in disgrace when this journey was finished.
"I do not believe that Eomer knows what happened to you on the Pelennor, Hethlin," he finally said tersely. "At least I'd like to think that. I need you to be honest with me right now--are you attracted to Eomer in any way? Is there a desire in you to be the Queen of Rohan?"
"If the Steward of Gondor cannot wed a barren woman, the King of Rohan certainly cannot do so," I said tentatively.
"I did not ask what Eomer can or cannot do!" he snapped. "I asked if you have any sort of liking or affection for the man." My ire rose in response to his.
"Have you seen any sign that I have encouraged him, my lord? I like him as the brother of my friend Eowyn. But my affections are not so easily given, and you know who holds my heart. I am not attracted to him as he is to me." Then, aghast at my impertinence, I asked in a much meeker tone, "Did I do something wrong, my lord? I wasn't sure what to do!" Some of the anger left his eyes, though they still glinted dangerously, and his mouth softened in concern. Even before he spoke, I realized that he hadn't been angry at me, he'd been angry for me.
"Oh no, child, you did just as you should! That was a most impressive display of control, and I am very proud of you." I slumped in my saddle in relief and gave him a wan smile. "What I wish to know is if you are all right."
"I am well enough, my lord,:" I assured him. "He simply startled me, that's all." Prince Imrahil sighed, and relaxed somewhat.
"Well, let us hope that a few months absence will cool his ardor, or perhaps redirect it. If it does not, I will have a word with him." I gave him a wide-eyed look of concern, and he chuckled softly. "No personal details, Hethlin--I shall simply tell him you think upon him as a friend and would prefer he treat you as such."
"My lord, I am capable of telling him that myself, should it come to it." The last of the anger in his eyes vanished, to be replaced with a gleam of approval.
"Indeed. And it is your place to do so, rather than mine. But if you are intimidated by Eomer's rank when the time comes, then tell me, and I will do it, for you are my esquire and a lady in my keeping, and it is my duty to see that nothing uncomfortable befalls you-outside of course, of the inevitable discomfort of your training." We trotted along in silence for a few moments, then I said, "I do not recollect that you became angry when the Elf Prince kissed me this morning, my lord."
"You did not seem to object to the Elf Prince's attentions. You certainly didn't get that slightly panicky look on your face. What, did you think I was the ogre guarding your tower, lady? It is not so, I assure you. I have better things to do than chastise your suitors--unless those suitors are unwelcome."
"I like King Eomer, really I do, but it seems unfair to encourage him when nothing can come of it. Though I suppose we could enjoy something outside of marriage. I don't know how I feel about that. Elrohir says my situation gives me an advantage because I can take lovers without worrying about having a baby." I did not mention that Imrahil had been on the list of candidates Elrohir had put forward.
"It seems a high price to pay for that sort of freedom," the Prince said quietly. I nodded vigorously.
"Exactly! I'm sure there are court ladies who would like to have my problem, but I like children! Mother didn't have my brother until I was twelve, and my little sister came when I was fourteen, and I loved helping her take care of them. I'd like to have some of my own some day." He smiled kindly at that, and reached across the gap between us to pat my hand.
"Then I hope that we can find some help for you among the Elves, Hethlin, for I suspect you'd be a very good mother. Shall we rejoin the others, before they have a chance to plot too much mischief?" I nodded, and we sent Caerith and Fortune into a gallop.
We were in the Eastfold, heading north and west, our first destination a bend in the Entwash where the river was narrow and shallow, and horses could swim across fairly easily. The land was gently rolling, with occasional copses of trees, and we made good time, pushing hard, for we wanted to ford the river with plenty of daylight left, so that we might have a chance of drying out before night set in.
The sons of Elrond continued to precede us, riding almost knee to knee, their keen eyes continually scanning the horizon for trouble. The Prince and I kept an eye out as well, but after our conversation of the morning, there was little talk between us. I was enjoying actually being out in the Wild once more, watching for birds and the scampering of rabbits or other small animals, noting which plants were flowering, and which had done so already. He seemed to be engaged in much the same sort of thing, and the only times we talked were when he pointed out something, or asked me a question about one of the flowers we saw. From things he said, I gathered that there were flowers that grew in Dol Amroth that did not flourish here, and some here that would not grow on the coast.
"What about oranges?" I asked at one point, and when he inquired about the reason for my interest, I told him about Elrohir's passion for them, which made him laugh.
"Actually, there are several trees in my gardens, but they don't fruit reliably. If the winter is cold at all, we lose the fruit. The blossoms are lovely though, and they have the most delightful smell. I import oranges from Harad when they're in season. You might be able to grow them in South Ithilien, down around Poros--should we ever get the border settled enough." When I recounted what Elrohir had said about his grandmother growing some in Lorien, he was quite impressed. "We will be seeing some wondrous things there, Hethlin. I'm very glad I got the chance to go."
"I'm glad you got the chance as well, sir." And we settled into companionable silence once more.
Mid afternoon, we reached the Entwash, glittering in the sun, its banks boggy and reedy. The twins had in fact picked a very good place to cross, a portion where it narrowed after splitting into two streams and reforming.
"Fish for dinner tonight, I think," declared Elrohir. "My lord, if it suits you, I propose we cross, make camp on the far bank and spread our things out to dry there."
Imrahil nodded agreement, then looked over at me. "Have you ever swum a horse across a river, Hethlin?"
"Arcag, once, over to Cair Andros. He didn't like it much." I reflected for a moment. "Then again, there wasn't much he did like."
"Well, if you've done the Anduin, this will be a duck pond. And Fortune is good in the water, unlike some I could name who think it an excuse for a good roll." And he slapped Caerith's neck affectionately. So it was that we unbuckled our saddlebags, bows and bedrolls and food sacks, and held them above our heads in an effort to keep them dry. I gave the King's letter to Prince Imrahil, whose arms were a little longer than mine. The horses went into the water willingly enough, pushing off powerfully when the water got deep, till only their heads were above the water. The river was shallow enough that I could feel their hooves hit bottom a couple of times during the passage. We were all of us thoroughly soaked from the neck down by the time it was over, but we had had some success in keeping our essential items dry.
We came up out of the river with water pouring off of us, the Prince booting Caerith hard when as predicted, he decided that he wanted to roll in the mud of the riverbank. Fortune did not roll, but once we were well out of the water, he decided to shake himself off while I was still on him, thoroughly rattling my teeth in the process. Elrohir chuckled. He and Elladan were already stripping the elven horses of their tack, and turning them loose. He indicated a copse of trees at the top of the bank.
"Elladan and I will find some supper, if the two of you will set up camp." He had taken a length of cord from his saddlebags, and was tying it to an arrow, while his brother did the same.
"You may turn your horses loose as well," Elladan said. "Nimfaun and Alagos will see to it that they do not stray. And they will be more comfortable if they are free." The Prince agreed to this plan, but we walked them up the hill before we unsaddled them, that they might carry their gear to its resting place. Once released, Caerith charged right back down to the riverbank to roll, and for the first time I heard the Prince of Dol Amroth curse, for despite Elrohir and Elladan also cursing him in Elvish about scaring away the fish and muddying the water, the stallion persisted until his beautiful silvery coat was liberally coated with green-brown slime.
"I have a stiff brush, my lord," I told Imrahil sympathetically.
"It almost makes me wish it would rain tonight, when I really have no desire to be anything but dry," said the Prince, bending over and sliding out of his hauberk. "He's always been like this. Perfect manners, perfect gaits, perfect mouth, a great war horse--and a pig where muck is concerned. One can't have everything, I suppose." I struggled out of my mail as well, and we spread the coats in a patch of sunshine.
"They're going to rust, you know," said the Prince glumly. "Well, perhaps they'll have sand barrels in Lorien, or clean them for us with Elven magic." We then spent a busy time setting saddles, armor and padding in the sun to dry as best they might. We wrung the heavy gambesons and cloaks out together, Imrahil taking one end, and I the other, and twisting them in opposite directions. I went down the hill and dragged the elven equipment up with ours. Elladan and Elrohir were in shirts and breeches, sleeves and legs rolled up, stalking like strange-looking herons in the river, bows aimed at the water.
When we had done all we could to take advantage of the fading afternoon sun, the Prince suggested I go ahead and get a bath downstream of the Elves and change out of my wet things. He was busy building a fire pit, and I said I would when I'd gathered the wood for it, since by the triumphant noises coming from the river, our supper was not far off.
So I took the small hatchet I carried strapped to my saddle and went in search of deadfall. Fortunately, a tree had fallen in the small copse, and it was the work of a few minutes to hew off some sizable, well-seasoned branches, and chop them to a usable size, though it raised new blisters on my hands, which had become unaccustomed to such work. I'd worked up a completely different set of blisters clerking. A strange thought occurred to me as I chopped--I wondered if the Prince's odd third son, Amrothos, could tell what people did for a living from the calluses on their hands.
He asked me what I was chuckling about when I returned, and when I told him, he laughed as well. "It's a possibility. 'Rothos gets interested in the strangest things--he studied Haradrim poisons in some depth last year. The less said about that, the better! Before that, he was comparing the rates at which different metals rusted or corroded, and the gardeners were wroth because there were these ingots scattered all over the gardens. I had to make him move those. Every time I come home it's something different."
"It sounds like life is interesting there, at least." I handed him the branches I'd collected, and watched somewhat critically for a moment, but for a Prince he laid a competent fire.
"Oh yes. Every time someone complains about one of his little experiments, 'Rothos agrees to end it--and proclaims that his next subject of study will be serpents or scorpions or stinging flies. That usually quiets them right down. Go get your bath, Hethlin."
I did as my lord commanded, taking my dry things and sword belt and soap down to the river, and had a most refreshing time of it. I missed that wonderful elven towel of Elrohir's, for it was not much fun pulling dry clothes on over my damp skin, but at least I was clean, and after a bit relatively dry. I returned to the camp to find the fire burning well, the fish cleaned and roasting on sticks lashed over it, and the twins heading back down to the river for their baths. The Prince was lashing together a framework of green limbs to set near the fire and dry clothes, and he'd hung some clothing from nearby branches as well.
"The dew will be falling soon, so I thought it better to bring them under the trees. Better to smell like smoke and be dry, then river water and soggy. Though I suspect that even with extraordinary efforts, things are still going to be somewhat moist tomorrow."
"I didn't even think twice about this sort of thing much when I was in Ithilien," I commented. "It's only taken a couple of months in the City to make me soft."
"It doesn't take long to get accustomed to the comforts of life," Imrahil agreed. I helped him turn the fish, and set out some bread and cheese and dried apple slices from the food sack. Elladan and Elrohir soon returned, still shirtless and drying their hair and promised to finish preparing the supper while the Prince finally got his bath. Elladan tossed him his towel. He started down to the river, and after a moment's consideration, I took up my bow and followed him, situating myself with my back to the river and a good vantage of the bank to either side.
He made no comment about my presence--he must have become resigned a long time ago to always having people about him. And very little time passed before the sounds of splashing ceased and I heard him coming up the bank behind me.
"You can turn around now, Hethlin." I did so and found him in breeches and untucked shirt, rubbing the towel over his hair in amazement. "The Elves make the most extraordinary things," was his bemused comment.
"You just wring it out, and it's almost dry again," I told him, "And it folds up very small." He wrung it, and touched it, and shook his head.
"I think I feel a covetous moment coming on. Such a thing would be incredibly convenient on a long campaign."
"Perhaps they'll have them in Lorien," I suggested. Imrahil grinned.
"Perhaps they will," he agreed, "But it's a poor guest who steals the towels when he leaves, don't you think?" Laughing, we went back up the hill to find that the elves had fancied up the meal considerably in our absence, toasting the cheese on slices of bread, and soaking the dried apples in a small bowl of wine, then dolloping them with honey.
"Where did you get honey?" I demanded of Elrohir, who simply looked smug. "I shall expect some for my tea in the morning."
"Perhaps, Snowsteel," he purred, "If you're very sweet to me in return." I sighed, shook my head in disbelief, and sat down to one of the finest wilderness meals I'd ever had. We blew on hot bits of fish and ate them with our fingers, dipped apples out of the communal bowl, gobbled the bread and cheese, and passed around the Prince's wineskin till things got quite jolly. Eventually, replete and warm, we all sat back and stared owlishly at the fire. Elrohir was leaning back against the trunk of the nearest tree, and after a moment, Elladan slid down and laid his head in his brother's lap, whereupon Elrohir's hand began gently stroking his brother's raven head, as one would thoughtlessly stroke a cat in one's lap.
"Elladan and I sang for our supper last night," he declared, "So one of you must entertain us now." He gave me a meaningful look, and I gaped at him in utter panic. The frogs on the riverbank below us had better singing voices than I did, and the Rangers had long ago learned not to include me in their rare song-fests. And I knew no piece of epic poetry well enough to recite it. My look of horror must have been so profound that it prompted in him a rare expression of mercy, for he did not press the issue. Instead, he turned to my lord.
"My lord Prince, your esquire has failed this challenge of arms. As her lord, it is your duty to take up the challenge yourself." Imrahil cocked his head to one side and gave him the princely eyebrow full force.
"You realize, that because of my position, I am more a patron of the arts than a participant in them." Having relented once this evening, Elrohir was not inclined to do so again.
"But you, my lord, have had the advantage of a princely education in a highly cultured land. Surely a man who has had to debate the Council of Minas Tirith most of his life can tell a simple story." Imrahil took the wineskin from him, and drank a deep draught from it.
"A simple story, you said? Will honor be served by any sort of story at all?" Elrohir declared that it would, whereupon the Prince took another swig of the wine, dragged the back of his hand across his mouth like the veriest peasant, said quietly and seemingly to himself, "Whyever not?" He tipped his head back, his eyes closed, and announced, "Here is the tale of the Dread Pirate Elchirion and the Seventh Stone of Saranac." When he looked back at us, there was a slightly manic gleam in his eye I'd never seen before. He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and began.
What followed had to be one of the funniest half hours of my life, as Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth proceeded to tell a bedtime story to the sons of Elrond-- about the Dread Pirate Elchirion, his First Mate and explosives expert Amrothos, his Second Mate and dress and customs expert Lothiriel, and their quest to find the Seventh Stone of Saranac to break a heinous curse that had been laid upon Good King Elphir. He did their voices and the voices of everyone they met in the course of their misadventures, each one distinct and never confused with another--the pirate and his crew, the poor, cursed sovereign, the King of the Sea, the Naked Woolly Bear, the Great Sea Serpent, the Queen of the Island of the Woman Warriors, and the Two-Toed Upside Down Treecat--and his voice and face and gestures were so expressive that he made the whole silly tale come alive.
The wineskin had unfortunately come round to me about the time the tale reached its horrific climax and the Dread Pirate Elchirion had to make the ultimate sacrifice to obtain at long last the true Seventh Stone--he had to Kiss a Girl. I laughed at the wrong moment, and ended up with a noseful of wine. Elrohir handed me his handkerchief, laughing softly, and Elladan sat up, laughing as well. Prince Imrahil brought the story to a satisfying and triumphant conclusion, with the good king saved, and the heroes sailing off to new adventures, and we all applauded mightily, while he sat and with becoming modestly accepted our accolades.
"A well-told tale, my lord," Elrohir declared. "Honor is satisfied. And we are so satisfied that we wish you to take the last watch. Elladan and I will do the mid-watches, and Hethlin the first, since I'm sure she's wide awake now." That I was, now that the burning in my nose had subsided, and I went and got my bow and laid it close to hand by the fire.
"I'll lay your blankets out for you if you like, Hethlin, while I'm doing mine," the Prince offered, cool and courteous once more.
"Thank you, my lord. Did you make all of that up yourself?"
"All tales are related, child, or so the Elves say. I but gathered a few poor fragments, and put them together."
"Well, you put them together marvelously well. I haven't laughed that hard in months!"
"I'm glad you enjoyed it." And indeed, I could hear the pleasure in his voice. "Good night, Hethlin."
"Good night, my lord." I moved about the fire, turning and rearranging some of the clothing so that it could finish drying, and listening to the others as they bedded down for the night. Elladan and Elrohir were talking quietly.
"He does voices very well," Elladan declared rather sleepily. "Do you remember, brother, when Glorfindel would tell us stories and sometimes he would do the voices if we begged him to?"
"Yes."
"Father never did voices when he told us stories."
"No, but they were good stories nonetheless."
"True enough. But I always liked the stories with the voices best. I think that Imrahil does voices better than Glorfindel did."
"I don't think I'd be telling Glorfindel he's been outdone by a mortal in anything, brother--unless you really want months of arms lessons at the hand of the Balrog-slayer!"
"Perhaps you're right, brother. Good night."
"Good night, Elladan."
Silence fell, and I sat watching the moon rise through the branches of the trees, smiling now and again at some remembered silliness from the story, and wondering exactly who Glorfindel was and what a Balrog might be.