Author's Note--Sorry, this is another short chapter. I got myself into another of those situations where I was either going to have a short chapter and a slightly longer one, or a twenty-page monstrosity. Figured you folks would rather have the short chapter earliest. Finally, they're going to get back on the road........
After breakfast, the Prince walked down the path to the gates of Edoras with Eomer, a couple of Eomer's esquires and myself, en route to the stable yards to look at the horses Eomer had selected as likely prospects for Lothiriel. At the gates we found an extremely placid mare, and a stableboy who immediately bowed and offered my lord a leg up. The Prince gave the King of Rohan a very pointed look, which he ignored, grinning.
"It is a bit of a hike back around to the horse yards, my lord, and with you so frail, I would not want to risk putting your recovery in peril." Imrahil snorted.
"'Frail'? Frail, is it? You realize that I will be very much more myself when I return to Edoras with your uncle's body, do you not? Perhaps a little sparring then will convince you as to the completeness of my cure." Eomer's grin broadened even more.
"My heart is gladdened by the invitation to participate in a demonstration of your recovery, my lord prince," he declared with utter sincerity. The two men stared at each other for a moment, then started laughing. The Prince shook his head, and availed himself of the servant's aid in mounting, but took the reins into his own hands most decisively.
Still chuckling, Eomer led the way around the wall of the city to a flat plain at the side, where lay stables and a training ground for Rohan's horses. An awning had been set up in the stable yard, and chairs and a table of refreshments provided. Eomer assisted the Prince off of his horse, and made a great fuss over settling him into his chair, seeing that the extra pillows had been properly plumped, and that his legs were comfortably positioned on a footstool. The Prince, wisely realizing that he was being teased, endured the fussing with nothing more than an arched eyebrow, though his eyes held the promise of retribution towards the King of Rohan sometime in the future. Bemused, I wondered what form it would take--I knew from recent experience that Imrahil was not a person to tease lightly or safely.
The Prince had scarce been settled in when the stablemen began bringing forward the first of the two-year-olds. His eyebrow went up.
"I thought we had agreed upon a yearling, Eomer." Remembering Eowyn's words upon this subject, I smiled to see the King of Rohan's brow crease for a moment, as he looked for a way to explain his "generosity".
"I thought upon it, and worried that your daughter might grow impatient, waiting for a yearling to mature. This way, she will be able to ride a year earlier, and therefore be more likely to keep her enthusiasm." Imrahil nodded thoughtfully.
"Very astute of you indeed." He gave Eomer an earnest look. "But the price I paid was for a yearling--would you not care to raise it a bit to better reflect the added value of the older horse?" Eomer didn't exactly squirm as the Prince twisted the knife, but he looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"No, no, not at all--I am quite content with the bargain."
"Well, I thank you for your generosity, then," Imrahil declared, eyes hooded to hide the amused twinkle in their depths. Eomer made a indecipherable noise, nodded, and gestured fervently to the stablemen to continue with the display.
I listened intently then as the Prince and Eomer discussed the relative strengths and weaknesses of the young horses before them. They were undoubtedly two of the greatest horsemen in Gondor and Rohan, and their debate and commentary were extremely educational. The candidates were halved early on when the Prince stated that he wished for a filly for his daughter, but there were still many beautiful young horses to choose from.
Over a period of two hours, the candidates were winnowed down to four--two greys, a bay and a black, and there the two men stalled for a bit. The Prince got up at that point, and went over each of them hands on, talking softly to them. The stablemen moved them out several more times apiece. Finally, the Prince indicated the black filly.
"Were I choosing for myself, I think I would take the larger of the two greys," he said, "but she would be a handful for Lothiriel. The black has a kind nature, and is a pretty thing--my daughter will like her well." Eomer nodded ruefully.
"Her father has chosen well--I am quite fond of that filly myself. We have few blacks left now." Imrahil patted his arm consolingly.
"Perhaps when she is older, you may make an arrangement with my daughter for a foal."
"Perhaps," Eomer agreed, then turning his attention to me, asked, "Have you selected your horse yet, Lady Hethlin?" I blushed a little, trying to decide what to say. "No sire, I was too busy insulting your sister to make a final decision," seemed a bit......inappropriate, as the Prince would have put it. Fortunately, I was saved the necessity of a reply by one of the stablemen, the head man it seemed, who spoke very good Westron.
"She chose one of the yearling fillies, my lord--the blue roan. The Lady Eowyn asked that the filly be captured yesterday, and we brought her up this morning." Eomer smiled, pleased.
"An excellent choice, Hethlin! I know that bloodline--good feet, and legs, and fast. Between your liege lord and yourself, I am losing some good future broodmares."
"I asked Eowyn if you wished me to pick from a certain group of horses, my lord, and she said no. Was she in error?"
"Oh, no!" The King shook his head. "You did very well, though I am surprised you did not chose a made horse. It was my thought to give you a proper war-horse." He shot a sidelong glance at Imrahil, opening yet another round in their ongoing war of horsemanship, but the Prince refused to take notice.
"I thought about it, but I liked her," I told Eomer. "She was feisty."
"And by the time you've finished your Swan Knight training, she will be of an age to train to saddle," the Prince commented. Rising to his feet, he declared, "Come, Eomer, I would like to see Hethlin's choice." The King obligingly accompanied us into the spacious stables of the Rohirrim, the pillars of which were as ornately carved and decorated as the King's hall itself, where we soon found my new horse by following the sound of a hoof angrily striking planking. She was moving restlessly about the stall, and from time to time would whinny imperiously, seeking her comrades. The Prince wisely did not enter the stall, but watched her for some moments with interest, and after a bit of soft-voiced coaxing, persuaded her to come over and get scratched.
"Eomer is right, she'll be a fast one judging from her build, Hethlin," he said, a pleased look upon his face. He gave me a meaningful stare for a long moment, and eventually I realized what he wished for me to do. I bowed to Eomer, and addressed him.
"Thank you, my lord king. She is truly a royal gift, and I promise I will care for her to the best of my ability." The King smiled, pleased.
"Consider it a reward for your care of my sister when she was alone in Minas Tirith. I am very glad that she has such a friend in you." Embarrassed, my cheeks reddened, and I ducked my head. The Prince patted my shoulder kindly.
"You made a good choice, Hethlin, though any horse this young is a risk, and only time will tell if you were correct. I think I would like to go back now. Are you coming with us, Eomer?" The King shook his head.
"I have to go see about a late breeding, and there are some other matters that require my attention this day. I'll see you this evening, if not before--and we are having a farewell feast tonight!" His face, which had darkened somewhat when speaking of his work, brightened considerably as he spoke of the feast, and he smiled another of his brilliant smiles and left us.
We left the barn ourselves to find the stableman who had told us about the filly holding the patient mare once more. "You may ride her within the gates, milord, and up to Meduseld itself," he told the Prince, "for she is sure-footed, and well able to manage the stairs. Then simply release her, and she will return to the barn herself." The Prince mounted with his assistance, then paused for a moment, stroking her neck.
"What exactly does this horse do, when she is not carrying invalid Princes?" he asked the stableman. The man hesitated for the briefest time, then answered with a bit of a grin.
"The older ladies use her, when they want or need to ride, my lord." The Prince nodded.
"Why am I not surprised? Thank you for all your help--Aedwyn, wasn't it?" The man nodded, and waved a farewell as we started back to the city. Once out of earshot, the Prince looked down at me, his lips twitching.
"I must think of something..... truly special for Eomer, as a gift in payment for all his hospitality. Perhaps I should consult with the sons of Elrond." I gave him an astonished look, and he grinned down at me.
"Surprised are you, Hethlin? Why so? Did you not tell me once that you found it easy to believe that I could have been a rogue?"
"I figured you'd outgrown it, my lord."
"Oh no, never outgrown, Hethlin. Continually and forcibly repressed, rather." I walked quietly with him for a while after that, trying to stifle a smile at the thought of the sons of Elrond working in concert with him to discomfit the King of Rohan. Eomer would be in very grave danger should that actually ever come to pass, I decided.
"Will you speak with her?" he asked at last, after we had passed through the gates of Edoras, and were going up the path towards Meduseld.
"Aye, my lord, I will," I replied, not bothering to pretend that I did not know who he was talking about.
"That is good. I believe you will feel better when you do. And less inclined to take your unhappiness out upon your fellows." I glanced up at him, and saw that damnable twinkle in his eyes again.
"I said I was sorry, my lord prince."
"So you did, child, so you did." Mercifully, he decided to make no more mention of my indiscretion, and spoke only of things that caught his eye as we passed through the city--a bit of carving on a house, an interesting thatching pattern, a bevy of blonde children playing swordfight in an alleyway. Eventually, we reached the house where we were staying, and he slid off of the mare. Knotting the reins up on her neck so that she would not catch a hoof in them, he gave her a gentle slap on the rump, and true to the
stableman's promise, she began to slowly make her way back down the road.
"I believe I will go within and read for a bit," the Prince told me, but when I asked if he wished me to attend him, he forestalled me with an upraised hand.
"I think you have another task before you," he said, and pointed back up the hill in the direction of Meduseld. There upon the porch before the great doors stood a slim figure in white, her golden hair lifting in the breeze. I sighed, and grimaced. The Prince patted my shoulder gently.
"Remember--what is most right is usually most difficult," he reminded me.
"Indeed, my lord--a lesson I am learning all too well." And I bowed to him, and left him, and went back up the hill to have words with Eowyn.
She stood her ground as she watched me approach, her face that expressionless mask it had been the day before. I climbed up the stairs to the porch of Meduseld, and reaching the top, looked her in the eye for a moment.
"Thank you for having the stablemen bring the filly up, Eowyn," I said quietly. "It saved me some embarrassment with your brother this morning." She nodded, and looked away out over the city.
"I feared you would think me impertinent, making the choice for you like that. But I believe we could have looked at all the other horses, and you still would have chosen that one, for she had chosen you, and we Rohirrim take such things very seriously."
"Like your brother being offended if I had rejected a gift from the House of Eorl? Thank you for having a care for my honor even after I insulted you."
"We neither of us are like to hold back with a sharp sword or sharp words," she commented dryly, "and you were every bit as insulted as I. I asked you to tell me the truth, and when you did, I attacked you for it." My hand stroked the stone mane of one of the two horse heads decorating the terrace.
"But there was some truth in what you told me as well. You are not the person to blame if I am unhappy with my situation. And you were right about something else--I might very well try to fight for Faramir, particularly if Lord Elrond could be prevailed upon to help me. I was offended when I thought that the King was shunting me off to Dol Amroth to keep me from being an embarrassment, but perhaps he was wiser than I thought." I looked at her very directly.
"So for that reason, and not because I am wroth with you in any way, I am not going to return to Edoras with the Prince when he accompanies your uncle's body home. I am going to go on to Dol Amroth with the other new esquires." Eowyn's face fell.
"Is this to be the end of our friendship then? Will you cut yourself off from both Faramir and myself?"
"Oh no!" I hastened to reassure her. "It is only till you are wed. And I will come to your wedding, and be very happy for you both! Eventually, you will probably wish to chase me away, for I fully intend to become Auntie Hethlin to your children, and spoil them dreadfully!" She smiled a little at that thought.
"I expect you would be very good at that. And we would hardly drive you away! No, we would be more likely to leave them with you for a fortnight or so while we slipped off for some time together!"
"Good. I could teach them how to track and hunt and shoot. You, of course, would teach them how to ride." Her smile became a grin.
"What would Faramir teach them?" I grinned right back at her.
"How to write unreadable poetry using obscure Numenorean verse forms." She laughed, and the last of the tension between us was dispelled.
"Come, let us get some lunch, and some beer! I have been sad and angry so much over the last day and night that a powerful thirst is upon me."
"You were born with a powerful thirst," I muttered, and she heard me and chuckled.
"I was born a maiden of the Rohirrim, which is pretty much the same thing." And we went forth in search of lunch, and beer. I tried to match her drink-for-drink again, and failed of course, and she quite enjoyed her victory in that particular ongoing competition. We talked about all sorts of things until I got sleepy and owlish, and she offered to tuck me in for a nap, and I rather rudely told her what she could do with the nap, whereupon she laughed, and gave me another lesson in Rohirric invective. Things were once more back to normal between us.
The feast that night in Meduseld was even more impressive than the meal that had greeted us the night we arrived. Eomer raised his glass in admiration of the beauty of his future Queen, and Lord Elrond toasted the White Lady of Rohan in his turn. The Rohirrim, having become somewhat accustomed to their eldritch guests, were more comfortable, and the conversation varied and entertaining. Lord Elrond left the feast for a while in the company of the Prince, who claimed that he was weary, and wished to retire early. When the Lord of Imladris returned alone, Elrohir gave me a hopeful look, but I was engrossed in a discussion of the merits of my new filly with Eowyn and Eomer, and not ready to go to bed yet.
By the time I did arrive there, he was, to put it politely, eager, and I chuckled as I lay atop him for once, kissing him soft and slow, and stroking my fingers through his silky hair.
"Do you suppose the Prince went to bed early for our sakes?" He shuddered as I ran a hand down his side.
"It is possible. Have I commented lately upon what an exquisitely polite and thoughtful man your liege lord is?" I nibbled an ear tip, and he groaned.
"No," I said, "mostly you complain about how my duties to him get in the way of what you want to do."
"Well, I take it all back, and commend him for his courtesy." I laughed, and worked on the ear a bit longer. He shuddered again, and kissed me suddenly, hard.
"You are certainly acting like a young elfling at his first harvest festival tonight," I commented. "Hardly like a three-thousand-year-old warrior of renown. Whatever has gotten you so......enthused?" His hands played feverishly up and down my back.
"If you must know, it was all the incessant talk about horse breeding! This stallion covering that mare and so forth and so on. And, of course, the discussions about humans at the court and their matings. An earthy lot, these Rohirrim."
"Is that a problem?"
"Not that I can see," he replied, and suddenly flipped me underneath him with a clever twist of his body, and began kissing me in earnest. Our farewell to Edoras that night was definitely of the earthy sort that the Rohirrim would have greatly appreciated.
The next morning, the stirrup cup was passed about at our departure, rather to the bemusement of the elves. Lothiriel's filly and my own had been situated amongst the pack beasts. Eowyn lingered for a moment at my side before moving onto her other guests.
"May I write to you?" she asked, still a bit disappointed that I was not returning with the funeral procession. I nodded.
"I wish that you would. I will write you, and tell you all about my training. Though I don't know how often we'll be able to exchange letters. I'll write every week, though, and send them when I can."
"I will do that as well. You'll most likely get a clutch of them all at once," she commented. "That is the way it usually happens."
"That will certainly be a happy day," I declared, and leaned down and gave her a hug. The Prince, who was mounted upon Caerith this morning in a obvious attempt to dispel the impression amongst the stalwart Rohirrim that he was a permanent invalid, watched the two of us with undisguised approval. Eomer strolled over, and gave me a grin and friendly warrior's clasp of arms. I wondered at his sudden discretion--then saw him cast a surreptitious glance at Elrohir, who was sitting Alagos and watching us intently. He had apparently finally made a connection between his attentions towards me, and Elladan's towards him.
"Thank you again for the lovely filly, my lord king," I told him earnestly, and his smile broadened even more.
"You are very welcome, Hethlin. Who knows, perhaps we'll ride to war together one day, and you can show me how well you've trained her." The Prince, who was nearby, shook his head.
"Goodness, Eomer, we just made peace! Could you not wait a year or two before wanting to fight again?"
"Of course, my lord prince," he responded promptly. "You will undoubtedly need at least that much time to complete your recovery." The Prince shook a chiding finger at him.
"Next month, Eomer, next month!" The King of Rohan chuckled, wished me well, then sauntered over to the Prince, clasped his arm, and suddenly pulled him down towards him, and gave him a firm hug. I saw Imrahil blink in surprise.
"You look after yourself, Imrahil. You frightened me when you arrived." The Prince smiled, laid his arm about Eomer's broad shoulders, and squeezed hard.
"I am well enough, lad, and I'll be myself again when I return. You'll see." He gave his future nephew-in-law another squeeze, and released him. Eomer patted Caerith's neck gently.
"You'd better be! A Rohirric funeral feast is not for anyone feeling less than themselves! And this will be a great one--Theoden King did deeds of great renown." He stepped back from Caerith, and Eowyn joined him. They raised their hands in farewell at the gates of Edoras, as we moved out, on our way again to Minas Tirith at last.
After breakfast, the Prince walked down the path to the gates of Edoras with Eomer, a couple of Eomer's esquires and myself, en route to the stable yards to look at the horses Eomer had selected as likely prospects for Lothiriel. At the gates we found an extremely placid mare, and a stableboy who immediately bowed and offered my lord a leg up. The Prince gave the King of Rohan a very pointed look, which he ignored, grinning.
"It is a bit of a hike back around to the horse yards, my lord, and with you so frail, I would not want to risk putting your recovery in peril." Imrahil snorted.
"'Frail'? Frail, is it? You realize that I will be very much more myself when I return to Edoras with your uncle's body, do you not? Perhaps a little sparring then will convince you as to the completeness of my cure." Eomer's grin broadened even more.
"My heart is gladdened by the invitation to participate in a demonstration of your recovery, my lord prince," he declared with utter sincerity. The two men stared at each other for a moment, then started laughing. The Prince shook his head, and availed himself of the servant's aid in mounting, but took the reins into his own hands most decisively.
Still chuckling, Eomer led the way around the wall of the city to a flat plain at the side, where lay stables and a training ground for Rohan's horses. An awning had been set up in the stable yard, and chairs and a table of refreshments provided. Eomer assisted the Prince off of his horse, and made a great fuss over settling him into his chair, seeing that the extra pillows had been properly plumped, and that his legs were comfortably positioned on a footstool. The Prince, wisely realizing that he was being teased, endured the fussing with nothing more than an arched eyebrow, though his eyes held the promise of retribution towards the King of Rohan sometime in the future. Bemused, I wondered what form it would take--I knew from recent experience that Imrahil was not a person to tease lightly or safely.
The Prince had scarce been settled in when the stablemen began bringing forward the first of the two-year-olds. His eyebrow went up.
"I thought we had agreed upon a yearling, Eomer." Remembering Eowyn's words upon this subject, I smiled to see the King of Rohan's brow crease for a moment, as he looked for a way to explain his "generosity".
"I thought upon it, and worried that your daughter might grow impatient, waiting for a yearling to mature. This way, she will be able to ride a year earlier, and therefore be more likely to keep her enthusiasm." Imrahil nodded thoughtfully.
"Very astute of you indeed." He gave Eomer an earnest look. "But the price I paid was for a yearling--would you not care to raise it a bit to better reflect the added value of the older horse?" Eomer didn't exactly squirm as the Prince twisted the knife, but he looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"No, no, not at all--I am quite content with the bargain."
"Well, I thank you for your generosity, then," Imrahil declared, eyes hooded to hide the amused twinkle in their depths. Eomer made a indecipherable noise, nodded, and gestured fervently to the stablemen to continue with the display.
I listened intently then as the Prince and Eomer discussed the relative strengths and weaknesses of the young horses before them. They were undoubtedly two of the greatest horsemen in Gondor and Rohan, and their debate and commentary were extremely educational. The candidates were halved early on when the Prince stated that he wished for a filly for his daughter, but there were still many beautiful young horses to choose from.
Over a period of two hours, the candidates were winnowed down to four--two greys, a bay and a black, and there the two men stalled for a bit. The Prince got up at that point, and went over each of them hands on, talking softly to them. The stablemen moved them out several more times apiece. Finally, the Prince indicated the black filly.
"Were I choosing for myself, I think I would take the larger of the two greys," he said, "but she would be a handful for Lothiriel. The black has a kind nature, and is a pretty thing--my daughter will like her well." Eomer nodded ruefully.
"Her father has chosen well--I am quite fond of that filly myself. We have few blacks left now." Imrahil patted his arm consolingly.
"Perhaps when she is older, you may make an arrangement with my daughter for a foal."
"Perhaps," Eomer agreed, then turning his attention to me, asked, "Have you selected your horse yet, Lady Hethlin?" I blushed a little, trying to decide what to say. "No sire, I was too busy insulting your sister to make a final decision," seemed a bit......inappropriate, as the Prince would have put it. Fortunately, I was saved the necessity of a reply by one of the stablemen, the head man it seemed, who spoke very good Westron.
"She chose one of the yearling fillies, my lord--the blue roan. The Lady Eowyn asked that the filly be captured yesterday, and we brought her up this morning." Eomer smiled, pleased.
"An excellent choice, Hethlin! I know that bloodline--good feet, and legs, and fast. Between your liege lord and yourself, I am losing some good future broodmares."
"I asked Eowyn if you wished me to pick from a certain group of horses, my lord, and she said no. Was she in error?"
"Oh, no!" The King shook his head. "You did very well, though I am surprised you did not chose a made horse. It was my thought to give you a proper war-horse." He shot a sidelong glance at Imrahil, opening yet another round in their ongoing war of horsemanship, but the Prince refused to take notice.
"I thought about it, but I liked her," I told Eomer. "She was feisty."
"And by the time you've finished your Swan Knight training, she will be of an age to train to saddle," the Prince commented. Rising to his feet, he declared, "Come, Eomer, I would like to see Hethlin's choice." The King obligingly accompanied us into the spacious stables of the Rohirrim, the pillars of which were as ornately carved and decorated as the King's hall itself, where we soon found my new horse by following the sound of a hoof angrily striking planking. She was moving restlessly about the stall, and from time to time would whinny imperiously, seeking her comrades. The Prince wisely did not enter the stall, but watched her for some moments with interest, and after a bit of soft-voiced coaxing, persuaded her to come over and get scratched.
"Eomer is right, she'll be a fast one judging from her build, Hethlin," he said, a pleased look upon his face. He gave me a meaningful stare for a long moment, and eventually I realized what he wished for me to do. I bowed to Eomer, and addressed him.
"Thank you, my lord king. She is truly a royal gift, and I promise I will care for her to the best of my ability." The King smiled, pleased.
"Consider it a reward for your care of my sister when she was alone in Minas Tirith. I am very glad that she has such a friend in you." Embarrassed, my cheeks reddened, and I ducked my head. The Prince patted my shoulder kindly.
"You made a good choice, Hethlin, though any horse this young is a risk, and only time will tell if you were correct. I think I would like to go back now. Are you coming with us, Eomer?" The King shook his head.
"I have to go see about a late breeding, and there are some other matters that require my attention this day. I'll see you this evening, if not before--and we are having a farewell feast tonight!" His face, which had darkened somewhat when speaking of his work, brightened considerably as he spoke of the feast, and he smiled another of his brilliant smiles and left us.
We left the barn ourselves to find the stableman who had told us about the filly holding the patient mare once more. "You may ride her within the gates, milord, and up to Meduseld itself," he told the Prince, "for she is sure-footed, and well able to manage the stairs. Then simply release her, and she will return to the barn herself." The Prince mounted with his assistance, then paused for a moment, stroking her neck.
"What exactly does this horse do, when she is not carrying invalid Princes?" he asked the stableman. The man hesitated for the briefest time, then answered with a bit of a grin.
"The older ladies use her, when they want or need to ride, my lord." The Prince nodded.
"Why am I not surprised? Thank you for all your help--Aedwyn, wasn't it?" The man nodded, and waved a farewell as we started back to the city. Once out of earshot, the Prince looked down at me, his lips twitching.
"I must think of something..... truly special for Eomer, as a gift in payment for all his hospitality. Perhaps I should consult with the sons of Elrond." I gave him an astonished look, and he grinned down at me.
"Surprised are you, Hethlin? Why so? Did you not tell me once that you found it easy to believe that I could have been a rogue?"
"I figured you'd outgrown it, my lord."
"Oh no, never outgrown, Hethlin. Continually and forcibly repressed, rather." I walked quietly with him for a while after that, trying to stifle a smile at the thought of the sons of Elrond working in concert with him to discomfit the King of Rohan. Eomer would be in very grave danger should that actually ever come to pass, I decided.
"Will you speak with her?" he asked at last, after we had passed through the gates of Edoras, and were going up the path towards Meduseld.
"Aye, my lord, I will," I replied, not bothering to pretend that I did not know who he was talking about.
"That is good. I believe you will feel better when you do. And less inclined to take your unhappiness out upon your fellows." I glanced up at him, and saw that damnable twinkle in his eyes again.
"I said I was sorry, my lord prince."
"So you did, child, so you did." Mercifully, he decided to make no more mention of my indiscretion, and spoke only of things that caught his eye as we passed through the city--a bit of carving on a house, an interesting thatching pattern, a bevy of blonde children playing swordfight in an alleyway. Eventually, we reached the house where we were staying, and he slid off of the mare. Knotting the reins up on her neck so that she would not catch a hoof in them, he gave her a gentle slap on the rump, and true to the
stableman's promise, she began to slowly make her way back down the road.
"I believe I will go within and read for a bit," the Prince told me, but when I asked if he wished me to attend him, he forestalled me with an upraised hand.
"I think you have another task before you," he said, and pointed back up the hill in the direction of Meduseld. There upon the porch before the great doors stood a slim figure in white, her golden hair lifting in the breeze. I sighed, and grimaced. The Prince patted my shoulder gently.
"Remember--what is most right is usually most difficult," he reminded me.
"Indeed, my lord--a lesson I am learning all too well." And I bowed to him, and left him, and went back up the hill to have words with Eowyn.
She stood her ground as she watched me approach, her face that expressionless mask it had been the day before. I climbed up the stairs to the porch of Meduseld, and reaching the top, looked her in the eye for a moment.
"Thank you for having the stablemen bring the filly up, Eowyn," I said quietly. "It saved me some embarrassment with your brother this morning." She nodded, and looked away out over the city.
"I feared you would think me impertinent, making the choice for you like that. But I believe we could have looked at all the other horses, and you still would have chosen that one, for she had chosen you, and we Rohirrim take such things very seriously."
"Like your brother being offended if I had rejected a gift from the House of Eorl? Thank you for having a care for my honor even after I insulted you."
"We neither of us are like to hold back with a sharp sword or sharp words," she commented dryly, "and you were every bit as insulted as I. I asked you to tell me the truth, and when you did, I attacked you for it." My hand stroked the stone mane of one of the two horse heads decorating the terrace.
"But there was some truth in what you told me as well. You are not the person to blame if I am unhappy with my situation. And you were right about something else--I might very well try to fight for Faramir, particularly if Lord Elrond could be prevailed upon to help me. I was offended when I thought that the King was shunting me off to Dol Amroth to keep me from being an embarrassment, but perhaps he was wiser than I thought." I looked at her very directly.
"So for that reason, and not because I am wroth with you in any way, I am not going to return to Edoras with the Prince when he accompanies your uncle's body home. I am going to go on to Dol Amroth with the other new esquires." Eowyn's face fell.
"Is this to be the end of our friendship then? Will you cut yourself off from both Faramir and myself?"
"Oh no!" I hastened to reassure her. "It is only till you are wed. And I will come to your wedding, and be very happy for you both! Eventually, you will probably wish to chase me away, for I fully intend to become Auntie Hethlin to your children, and spoil them dreadfully!" She smiled a little at that thought.
"I expect you would be very good at that. And we would hardly drive you away! No, we would be more likely to leave them with you for a fortnight or so while we slipped off for some time together!"
"Good. I could teach them how to track and hunt and shoot. You, of course, would teach them how to ride." Her smile became a grin.
"What would Faramir teach them?" I grinned right back at her.
"How to write unreadable poetry using obscure Numenorean verse forms." She laughed, and the last of the tension between us was dispelled.
"Come, let us get some lunch, and some beer! I have been sad and angry so much over the last day and night that a powerful thirst is upon me."
"You were born with a powerful thirst," I muttered, and she heard me and chuckled.
"I was born a maiden of the Rohirrim, which is pretty much the same thing." And we went forth in search of lunch, and beer. I tried to match her drink-for-drink again, and failed of course, and she quite enjoyed her victory in that particular ongoing competition. We talked about all sorts of things until I got sleepy and owlish, and she offered to tuck me in for a nap, and I rather rudely told her what she could do with the nap, whereupon she laughed, and gave me another lesson in Rohirric invective. Things were once more back to normal between us.
The feast that night in Meduseld was even more impressive than the meal that had greeted us the night we arrived. Eomer raised his glass in admiration of the beauty of his future Queen, and Lord Elrond toasted the White Lady of Rohan in his turn. The Rohirrim, having become somewhat accustomed to their eldritch guests, were more comfortable, and the conversation varied and entertaining. Lord Elrond left the feast for a while in the company of the Prince, who claimed that he was weary, and wished to retire early. When the Lord of Imladris returned alone, Elrohir gave me a hopeful look, but I was engrossed in a discussion of the merits of my new filly with Eowyn and Eomer, and not ready to go to bed yet.
By the time I did arrive there, he was, to put it politely, eager, and I chuckled as I lay atop him for once, kissing him soft and slow, and stroking my fingers through his silky hair.
"Do you suppose the Prince went to bed early for our sakes?" He shuddered as I ran a hand down his side.
"It is possible. Have I commented lately upon what an exquisitely polite and thoughtful man your liege lord is?" I nibbled an ear tip, and he groaned.
"No," I said, "mostly you complain about how my duties to him get in the way of what you want to do."
"Well, I take it all back, and commend him for his courtesy." I laughed, and worked on the ear a bit longer. He shuddered again, and kissed me suddenly, hard.
"You are certainly acting like a young elfling at his first harvest festival tonight," I commented. "Hardly like a three-thousand-year-old warrior of renown. Whatever has gotten you so......enthused?" His hands played feverishly up and down my back.
"If you must know, it was all the incessant talk about horse breeding! This stallion covering that mare and so forth and so on. And, of course, the discussions about humans at the court and their matings. An earthy lot, these Rohirrim."
"Is that a problem?"
"Not that I can see," he replied, and suddenly flipped me underneath him with a clever twist of his body, and began kissing me in earnest. Our farewell to Edoras that night was definitely of the earthy sort that the Rohirrim would have greatly appreciated.
The next morning, the stirrup cup was passed about at our departure, rather to the bemusement of the elves. Lothiriel's filly and my own had been situated amongst the pack beasts. Eowyn lingered for a moment at my side before moving onto her other guests.
"May I write to you?" she asked, still a bit disappointed that I was not returning with the funeral procession. I nodded.
"I wish that you would. I will write you, and tell you all about my training. Though I don't know how often we'll be able to exchange letters. I'll write every week, though, and send them when I can."
"I will do that as well. You'll most likely get a clutch of them all at once," she commented. "That is the way it usually happens."
"That will certainly be a happy day," I declared, and leaned down and gave her a hug. The Prince, who was mounted upon Caerith this morning in a obvious attempt to dispel the impression amongst the stalwart Rohirrim that he was a permanent invalid, watched the two of us with undisguised approval. Eomer strolled over, and gave me a grin and friendly warrior's clasp of arms. I wondered at his sudden discretion--then saw him cast a surreptitious glance at Elrohir, who was sitting Alagos and watching us intently. He had apparently finally made a connection between his attentions towards me, and Elladan's towards him.
"Thank you again for the lovely filly, my lord king," I told him earnestly, and his smile broadened even more.
"You are very welcome, Hethlin. Who knows, perhaps we'll ride to war together one day, and you can show me how well you've trained her." The Prince, who was nearby, shook his head.
"Goodness, Eomer, we just made peace! Could you not wait a year or two before wanting to fight again?"
"Of course, my lord prince," he responded promptly. "You will undoubtedly need at least that much time to complete your recovery." The Prince shook a chiding finger at him.
"Next month, Eomer, next month!" The King of Rohan chuckled, wished me well, then sauntered over to the Prince, clasped his arm, and suddenly pulled him down towards him, and gave him a firm hug. I saw Imrahil blink in surprise.
"You look after yourself, Imrahil. You frightened me when you arrived." The Prince smiled, laid his arm about Eomer's broad shoulders, and squeezed hard.
"I am well enough, lad, and I'll be myself again when I return. You'll see." He gave his future nephew-in-law another squeeze, and released him. Eomer patted Caerith's neck gently.
"You'd better be! A Rohirric funeral feast is not for anyone feeling less than themselves! And this will be a great one--Theoden King did deeds of great renown." He stepped back from Caerith, and Eowyn joined him. They raised their hands in farewell at the gates of Edoras, as we moved out, on our way again to Minas Tirith at last.