Author's Note--Many apologies for the late update--I now have two jobs, and when I'm doing a show with my first job, I have about eight spare hours in my day, and I like to use them for sleeping (and taking care of critters!) The good news is that shows are over till after the holidays, and then there are the holidays.........Maybe I'll finish before Captain's anniversary in January!
When we left Edoras, we had nine days to reach Minas Tirith as it was the wedding party's intention to arrive on Mid Year's Eve. This meant that by necessity, the Elves were finally traveling at what I felt was an acceptable pace. The Prince, rather to my surprise, rode Caerith for almost two hours that day before he finally sought the horse litter.
"Our stop in Edoras appears to have done you good, my lord," I commented as I rode Fortune beside the litter. Prince Imrahil smiled.
"I do feel much better, Hethlin, though I am sorry I held us up for so long. Looking back, it might have been better for all concerned if I had remained in Lorien till I was well." I shook my head.
"Nay, my lord, I think it was better you came along, to act as a go-between for the Elves and the Rohirrim. You are so very good at that sort of thing." He gave me an amused grin, and settled back into the litter.
"I thank you for your kind words, lady." Looking me up and down for a moment, he frowned slightly. "Now, is there some particular reason you're sitting poor Fortune as if he were a handy sack of potatoes you wished to rest your rump on?" I blushed, and hurriedly straightened in the saddle. Our daily horsemanship lessons had apparently just resumed.
Other aspects of our traveling routine also began again with the journey. In the evenings, Lord Celeborn continued to give me lessons in my mind gifts, and in the mornings the twins would work on my swordplay. During the day, as we rode, the Lady Arwen told me tales of Imladris, and the North, and her acquaintance with my father.
"I first met him when he saved one of my ladies," she said the second day out from Edoras. "It was springtime, and we were all out gathering flowers for a festival. She ventured too close to the banks of the Bruinen, which was in full spate from the snow-melt, trod upon a mossy spot, slipped and fell in. We all followed, crying out in fear and distress, for she was being swept towards some rapids, and we had no ropes with us, only the garlands of flowers we had woven."
"A Ranger broke out of the woods upon the opposite side of the river bank. He surveyed the situation, slid out of his pack, swiftly removed his boots and weapons, undid the roll of rope he carried there, and fastened it about his waist, all the while looking skyward in a most curious fashion. Then he dove into the current, the rope trailing behind him. With swift strokes he headed downstream towards my lady, and soon reached her. We wondered what he would do then, for they were hard by the rocks, and though he began to try to fight his way back upstream one-handed, it was obvious that the current was too swift, and he too hampered by his companion. We watched with our hearts in our throats, unable to do anything, expecting to see them dashed to pieces at any moment. Even I was helpless, for the river answers to my father's will and not to mine."
"Then the Eagle came, and stooping low, deftly seized the rope where it trailed behind them in the water. Wings beating furiously, it hovered in midair till the rope snapped taut, then carefully began to backwing towards our side of the river. Eventually, the Ranger's feet found footing in the shallows, and he stood and hauled his fair burden onto the bank."
"It was then, as he stood there sodden and bedraggled, that he introduced himself rather stiffly as Halaran son of Hethrandel of the House of the Eagle." Arwen smiled in sad reminiscence. "He was your age then, perhaps even a bit younger, certainly very young to have earned his star, but I think by that time he had already experienced enough of his kinsmen's distrust that he was not one to make friends easily. He had never visited Imladris before, and I knew him not, but the Eagle who had aided his rescue I knew quite well--Landroval, brother to the Eagles' chieftain, Gwaihir. It appeared that they were great friends, and when Halaran was patrolling close to the Hithaeglir, traveling companions. As had been the case that day, fortunately for my lady." Arwen paused for a moment, stretching a bit in the saddle, turning her face up to the sun, and giving her elven horse a gentle pat on the neck. Then she resumed her tale.
"There is really nothing much to say after that. Halaran helped us get the lady back to Imladris, and I saw to it that he was cared for as well. He feasted with us that night, and accepted the thanks of my lady Mehariel's parents and Mehariel herself with awkward courtesy. The next morning he resumed his patrol, though we urged him to rest a day or two. But after that, he became one of the Dunedain Aragorn preferred to send to Imladris upon errands, and when he came, we would play chess sometimes of an evening. I quite liked him." She gave me an ironic smile.
"I do possess a well-polished mirror, Hethlin, and am not unaware of my charms. I appreciated your father because he was one of the few people who did not seem to care that I was beautiful. I was just his friend and chess opponent Arwen, and he always looked me in the eye."
"I think he may have tried to teach me to play when I was little, but I had no patience for it at the time. I used to like to play my own games with the pieces," I said thoughtfully. "He would play with my mother in the evenings, every once in a while." Arwen actually grinned of a sudden.
"Oh, here is another memory for you! Your father came to Imladris with a message right after Liraniel had agreed to marry him. He'd always been a bit of a dour, silent type, but when we talked that evening after dinner, he was almost gushing! So very happy, and so disbelieving of his good fortune. His far more handsome friend had also been courting her, and had been refused in favor of him, which greatly astonished him. He found it difficult to believe that anyone could love him for his better qualities alone." She threw me a sidelong, humorous look. "You are very much like him in that respect." I decided to let that one pass, and encouraged her to tell me more tales, which she was more than willing to do. The Prince, who had listened in on some of this by virtue of proximity, gestured me over to the litter when Arwen had ridden to the front of the line to rejoin her father. She had been making an effort to spend as much time with him as possible.
"I notice you have only asked Lady Arwen about your father," he said with that smile of his that seemed to be created by both eyes and mouth. "Why do you not ask her about your grandfather as well? You never knew him, and she might very well have. Or your great-grandfather or his father or--"
"--I get the idea, my lord prince," I said, giving him a wry look. "Why exactly are you bringing this to my attention? Is this about Elrohir?" The Prince chuckled.
"Must everything be about Elrohir? Though I know that he would greatly enjoy the idea that it was."
"I was just wondering if this were not yet another warning about the perils of becoming involved with the Firstborn." Imrahil gave me a much soberer look.
"I think that on this journey you have already seen first-hand something of that pain. You need no further warnings from me." His manner then lightened again, in a mercurial shift that was rather....elvish. The longer we traveled with them, the more like them he seemed to become. "I was merely thinking of how sundered you are from all of your kin and history. Short of traveling to the North Kingdom yourself, Lady Arwen may be your best resource for acquainting yourself with your family's background. Better even than the King." I shook my head in admiring disbelief.
"My lord, I think you are the only person I know who could look at the Lady Arwen and think of her as a resource." Imrahil glanced towards the front of our caravan to where Arwen rode, her slim figure erect, her black hair bannering in the breeze.
"I look at the Lady Arwen and think of her as a great many things. An ancient, exquisite being. A healer, an artisan. A woman with the greatest capacity to love I have ever known. My Queen. My good friend Aragorn's wife. And the personification of every bittersweet, tragic love story I was fed as a child by the bevy of minstrels that infested my father's court."
"You make minstrels sound like some kind of plague, my lord!" I laughed. The Prince smiled knowingly.
"Just you wait till you are at Dol Amroth! You will see then. It is not amusing to have your least deed immortalized in song! They seem to think it worthy of note if I manage to dress myself correctly of a morning!"
"The attention you give to your wardrobe is legendary, my lord-- they may have a point!" Imrahil winced in exaggerated fashion, crediting me a hit. "But I know what you mean. Someone recently threatened to write a song about me." He followed my glance towards where Elrohir rode with graceful arrogance.
"He did, did he? About the Pelennor, I take it?" I nodded, and he grinned boyishly. "I think that is a song I would like to hear someday!"
"He's already told the story, at the Ranger party the night before the King was crowned. It wasn't anything like what really happened--it was very.....neat and tidy. Like I planned everything, cool as you please. Nothing about me crying my eyes out, or anything like that." The Prince nodded knowingly.
"Ah, but there wouldn't have been, Hethlin. You've run right up against the difference between legend and life. Take Aragorn, for instance. There will be songs aplenty of his deeds of battle, and how he conquered the Darkness with the Sword Reforged. But there won't be any about the former Ranger who is the despair of his valet for his indifference to fashion and of his secretary for his indifference to schedules, and who is addicted to pipeweed."
"Is he really?" I asked, intrigued. "The first time I met him he had his pipe with him, and he even let me try it, but is the habit that strong?"
"Oh yes." The Prince's tone was dryly amused. "Breathes more smoke than a dragon does, does our King. Never you fear, though--Lady Arwen will break him of that in a hurry. That is the ultimate purpose of wives, I deem--to civilize us loutish menfolk. She has already confided to me that she finds his pipeweed habit repugnant, and has no intention of letting him indulge it within doors." A mental picture of the King forlornly puffing away outdoors in the icy cold rain of a Minas Tirith winter crossed my mind, and I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. The Prince, seeming to follow my thought as he sometimes did, laughed.
"I think he will get compensation enough for his sacrifice, never you fear!" And I had to laugh as well.
"So you freely admit that all men are louts, sir?"
"Initially, at least."
"And do you include yourself in that number?"
"Indeed, though I am no longer a member in good standing. What you have here," and he straightened up and laid a hand theatrically upon his chest, "is the end product of many years of labor by a good woman. Verily, had I succumbed to the blandishments of one of the beauties of Minas Tirith, the poor woman would have had little to do--for I have been exquisitely trained, and how can one improve upon perfection?" I endeavored to give him my version of the Ironical Elven Eyebrow, but it must still have been lacking something, for it seemed to have little effect.
"I think you should succumb," I told him. "It would do you good."
"Indeed, you have mentioned your concern about my lack of a romantic life before." He settled himself back upon his pillows once more and gave me his full, undivided attention. "And what sort of lady do you think I should succumb to?" His grey eyes were very intent upon mine, and I grew both flushed and flustered for no good reason as I pondered my answer.
"Well, there are certainly widows enough in Gondor right now," I said at last. One of his eyebrows arched far more effectively than had mine.
"Widows?"
"Yes, widows. Because things you have said have made me think you wouldn't want to wed a young girl." His mouth twisted in a wry smile.
"Very well then, we have established the first requirement--a degree of maturity." I nodded.
"And she should be a great lady, who knows the ways of courts, since you spend so much time there." The Prince considered this carefully for a moment.
"Such things can be taught, you know. Nimrien cared not for courts at all, and spent as little time as possible at them."
"I did not know that."
"Well, it is true. But I shall stop interrupting since the Royal Matchmaker of Rohan is advising me, and if one seeks the opinion of an expert, one should listen to it." I smiled a little at his using the title I'd thought to give myself earlier.
"She should like books and clothes and horses, since you like those things. And have a strong stomach so you can take her to sea."
"Valar, Hethlin, I might as well put a wig over a mirror and marry that!" I glowered at him.
"You said you were not going to interrupt!"
"I know I did, but you leave me so few possibilities! Someone my age, who likes exactly the same things I like. What is the matter with marrying someone different from one's self? Exploring each others' differences?"
"I don't know!" I said, suddenly frustrated. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elrohir give us a curious glance. "I've never been married! I don't even know if that works! Perhaps YOU should just tell ME what sort of woman you should marry." There was a long silence as the Prince gave me a very peculiar look, then he grimaced and picked up a book that lay at his side.
"I think not, child, for it truly matters not. And as I said before, it is rather too late for that sort of thing. But I did not mean to upset you. Why do you not ride ahead with Elrohir for a bit? I am weary and wish to read in peace for a while." I watched as, true to his word, he opened the book and bowed his dark head over it. After a moment, feeling my gaze upon him, he flicked his hand at me without ever raising his eyes.
"Why are you still here? Off with you now." I went.
As we drew closer to Minas Tirith, Lord Elrond's mood grew darker, though he endeavored to conceal this, and the tension between himself and Elrohir increased. Elrohir did not take me to his bed, nor would I have permitted it, but we rode and talked together often, usually took our meals together, and of course he helped his brother with my arms training. From time to time I would look up to see Lord Elrond's brooding glance upon me.
On the sixth evening out of Edoras, we halted somewhat short of the Min-Rimmon beacon. The Lord of Imladris did not stoop to quarrel within earshot of the camp, but he and his son went out into the night and apparently had yet another dreadful argument privately. Or as privately as they could--Elladan could feel Elrohir's distress and anger through his link, and Arwen certainly knew what was going on. Her beautiful face was dark and quenched-looking as she moved about the camp. The Prince, ever sensitive to mood, was troubled. As for me, the downside of my newly strengthened bond with Elrohir became very evident--my nerves were positively thrumming, and I found it difficult to eat my supper. Lord Celeborn had been teaching me how to shield myself, to block Elrohir out when I wanted some distance, but I was too inexperienced to deal with the emotional onslaught I was feeling now.
Halfway through the meal, I felt movement beside me, and looked up to find the Lord of Lorien settling himself at my side. He indicated that I should turn about and face him, and I did so. Taking my hands in his, I felt his mind slide into mine. Suddenly, calm and peace washed over my mind in a soothing flood. I sighed, and slumped in relief, and he smiled gently.
"I can see what we need to work on the most, Lady Hethlin."
"Indeed, my lord," I replied gratefully. "Thank you."
"You are welcome. Now perhaps you see why Elves avoid passion."
"Aye. Elves, when they let themselves, feel things far more fiercely than Men, it would seem. Though you always appear to be very peaceful and serene, my lord."
"I have only ever had but one passion in my life, and it has been enough," he replied with a smile, his silver-blue eyes flicking across the campfire, to where Lady Galadriel sat close to the Prince, conversing quietly. "Well, two actually. My daughter is very dear to me as well." He pondered thoughtfully for a moment, then added, "I love my grandchildren too--I suppose I am a very passionate fellow after all." The absurd contrast of his words with his gentle manner made me laugh, and that brought in turn a twinkle to his eyes.
"That is better. Come now, let us see if I cannot help you with this. I have obviously erred somewhere in your instruction, for this is much more difficult for you than it should be. Attend me, child, and we will see if I can mend things somewhat......."
With Lord Celeborn's patient instruction and reinforcement, I was able to shield rather better after a time, though I could still feel Elrohir's distress. When he returned to camp, he retreated into his tent, and after a moment, his brother followed him. Lord Elrond returned to the camp fire and started talking with the Prince, though I could feel the occasional glance in my direction. Rather uncomfortable, I rose after a time and sought my own rest in the tent I shared with Arwen, but though I lay awake for a couple of hours, my thoughts churning, sleep eluded me. Eventually, I got up, casting a glance towards my tent mate. Arwen was truly asleep, I deemed, her silver-grey eyes staring unblinking upwards. There was a tiny crease between her smooth brows, and her mouth was rather tightly held. I pulled my boots on as quietly as possible, and slid out of the tent.
Save for the sentries, all were abed. After a moment's hesitation, I made my way over to the tent shared by the twins, and slipped inside.
"Snowsteel?" came Elladan's voice softly.
"Aye. Are the two of you all right?"
"I am. As for brother......I am glad that you are here." My night vision was good enough to discern that he was lying close to Elrohir, and holding the covers up so that I could slip in on the opposite side. Removing my boots, I did so, finding my lover clad even as I was, in breeches and shirt. I spooned up close to his back, but when I did, he turned over, threw an arm about my neck, and tucked his head beneath my chin. He did not speak, but proximity made it easy to sense his grief and dismay. I tried once more to send warmth and comfort through our link, and ran my fingers soothingly through his silky hair. Elladan snuggled closer on the other side, until Elrohir was cocooned between us. I could feel a sort of echo from him, as he too tried to comfort his twin.
After a time, Elrohir sighed, his breathing slowed, and a calmness descended upon him. Even without seeing his staring eyes, I was reasonably certain he'd fallen asleep, and was glad of it. Elladan spoke quietly once more.
"Thank the Valar, or perhaps I should say the Dunedan. Mayhap I can now get some rest myself. He told me nothing of what transpired between Father and himself, other than to remark that he was certain that it was merely Father's grief over Arwen that was causing him to lash out so. Will you stay?"
"For a time at least, to make sure he is really asleep. I could not rest either."
"Well, a good night to you then. And thank you again, Snowsteel."
"You are welcome, Elladan." I bent my head slightly and dropped a kiss on Elrohir's. He murmured something incoherent, and shifted even closer to me. I closed my eyes, and hoped that sleep would come at last. After a time, it finally did.
I awoke abruptly, for no good reason, shortly before dawn. Perhaps it was anxiety that Lord Elrond should discover me in his son's bed. In any event, I was fully awake, and going back to sleep did not seem likely. Carefully, I slid my arm out from under Elrohir, and he murmured and shifted back towards his brother, till they were resting forehead to forehead, Elladan's arm thrown across Elrohir protectively. I smiled at the loving picture, imagining them as small Elven children sleeping in exactly the same way. Elrohir stirred once more, as I tucked the blanket back around him, but did not wake.
Putting my boots back on, I crept from the tent surreptitiously, half-expecting to see Lord Elrond sitting there waiting to fall upon me like the wrath of the Valar themselves. Lord Elrond, however, must have had better things to do than ambush one puny Ranger, for he was nowhere in evidence. There was someone else sitting at the campfire, which had been built back up. He was watching a small teapot set over it upon a stick, barefoot, and clad in naught but a shirt and breeches. His head lifted, as I came out of the tent.
"The tea is nearly ready, Hethlin, should you care to have some." His voice was pitched low, so as not to wake the sleepers nearby. I did the same, and hunkered down beside him.
"My lord, what do you up at this hour? You should be abed."
"I should," he concurred, "but I could not rest. Perhaps our Elven friends have affected me, for my mind is uneasy." He proffered me a slice of bread spread with honey, and I took it gratefully, my stomach suddenly reminding me I'd had little dinner the night before. "There seems to be something in the air....." I looked at him and wondered if he perhaps possessed something of his nephew's gift. He had the means at hand on a plate to prepare more honey bread, and did so for himself.
"Do you think the caravan is going to be attacked?" I asked him, as he chewed his first bite. He swallowed deliberately after a few moments, then answered.
"No, I think it is just Lord Elrond affecting me. He is a very powerful personality, and it is difficult to shut him out."
"Elrohir says you shield very well for a mortal, that he cannot read you." The Prince cocked an eyebrow.
"And has Elrohir been trying to read me?" I stared down at my bread.
"A while back he did," I admitted. "I do not believe he does so any more."
"That is good to know," said Imrahil. I could feel his eyes upon me as I ate. "Hethlin," he said at last, "Do you truly believe you could ever be free to love someone else bound as you are to him?"
"He wants me to," I replied rather defensively. "We both agree that we should be free to seek lovers among our own kindreds. It is not truly a marriage-bond, and we neither of us asked for this to happen." The Prince frowned slightly.
"Not when he first saved you, no. But you both made a conscious decision to become lovers in Lorien, knowing that the bond would be strengthened as a result. So you can no longer plead total ignorance of the situation."
"I was not aware that I had to plead anything," I said rather stiffly. Imrahil threw up his empty hand in an apologetic gesture.
"I am sorry! Apparently, I am as out of sorts as everyone else! I told you some time ago that your relationship with Prince Elrohir was none of my business, and I should hold to that. I simply worry about both of you, and yesterday was a distressing day for me, seeing the two of you so upset."
"I appreciate your concern, my lord," I said, somewhat mollified. The Prince took up two mugs, and a towel that seemed to appear magically from nowhere, and poured tea for us both. He regarded me keenly over the rim of his cup as he drank.
"Lord Elrond knows you were with Elrohir last night." Wincing, I picked up my mug and sipped from it in turn.
"I thought he might. There's no help for it."
"Do you fear he will take you to task about it?" I shrugged.
"I have no idea, but there is nothing I can do about it if he does. I have already told him that I will not let Elrohir bind himself to me and die. He does not believe me. But I will tell him again if I must, for all the good it will do." The Prince's fingertips stroked his mug thoughtfully.
"I have a suggestion, Hethlin, if you would be agreeable to it. Would you not enjoy a bit of a respite from this situation?" I admitted wearily that it would be nice. "Does not distance lessen the link?"
"Aye, it does. Though Elrohir can sense Elladan from much farther away than he can me. Why?"
"I would have you finish breaking your fast, dress and arm yourself, and saddle Caerith. I want you to ride to that inn your friends own up the road--what is it called? The Beacon?"
"Aye, my lord," I replied, puzzled.
"I will give you some coin, and you will have the landlady bake us some of those dried-apple tarts of hers, enough to go all around. I had one on the journey to Lorien, and they were very good."
"Talith's apple tarts are legendary," I agreed with a reminiscent smile. "Father always used to get me some when we came there to get supplies."
"Well, there you have it. Give Caerith a good gallop--he is faster than Fortune, and he has been rather rank this week. We will probably be a couple of hours behind you--time enough for Mistress Talith to work her magic. Wait for us there. You will get a bit of a break from all of this, I will have an opportunity to speak to Lord Elrond about this matter, which is something I've been wanting to do for a while, Caerith will get a good run, your friends will gain some custom from it, and hopefully, the apple tarts will sweeten dispositions all around. Everybody wins." I looked down for a moment, smiling a little at his description and noticing in passing that he had handsome feet for a man, slender and high-arched.
"It does seem a good idea, my lord. Only you don't have to fight my battles for me." The Prince sighed, stood up and stretched, minding his mug as he did so.
"Hethlin, the liege lord/vassal relationship is supposed to be a reciprocal one. I fully expect my vassals to be willing to lay their lives down for me at certain times, and at certain other times, they can expect me to protect them and their interests in situations where they have insufficient rank or resources to do so. This is one of those situations. Now get dressed, and Caerith saddled, and be ready to ride out. That's an order."
"Well, if you put it that way, my lord...." I grinned, set my mug down, stood and bowed, then moved to my tent to begin my preparations.
It was not long ere I stood before him once more, Caerith at my side as the sky began pinkening in the East. A small pouch of soft leather that clinked softly was produced and given to me. The camp was beginning to stir.
"Get you gone while you still may, Hethlin," the Prince said with a smile. "You should encounter no trouble upon the Road, but may the Valar guard and guide you anyway."
"You're the one who needs the guarding, my lord," I declared, "for you're the one remaining here with Lord Peredhil!" He chuckled, and I turned, kneed Caerith in the belly, and when the stallion oofed, tightened the girth the last two notches he had hoped I would forget about. Then I swung up, clasped arms briefly with the Prince, and set off into the growing light.
When we left Edoras, we had nine days to reach Minas Tirith as it was the wedding party's intention to arrive on Mid Year's Eve. This meant that by necessity, the Elves were finally traveling at what I felt was an acceptable pace. The Prince, rather to my surprise, rode Caerith for almost two hours that day before he finally sought the horse litter.
"Our stop in Edoras appears to have done you good, my lord," I commented as I rode Fortune beside the litter. Prince Imrahil smiled.
"I do feel much better, Hethlin, though I am sorry I held us up for so long. Looking back, it might have been better for all concerned if I had remained in Lorien till I was well." I shook my head.
"Nay, my lord, I think it was better you came along, to act as a go-between for the Elves and the Rohirrim. You are so very good at that sort of thing." He gave me an amused grin, and settled back into the litter.
"I thank you for your kind words, lady." Looking me up and down for a moment, he frowned slightly. "Now, is there some particular reason you're sitting poor Fortune as if he were a handy sack of potatoes you wished to rest your rump on?" I blushed, and hurriedly straightened in the saddle. Our daily horsemanship lessons had apparently just resumed.
Other aspects of our traveling routine also began again with the journey. In the evenings, Lord Celeborn continued to give me lessons in my mind gifts, and in the mornings the twins would work on my swordplay. During the day, as we rode, the Lady Arwen told me tales of Imladris, and the North, and her acquaintance with my father.
"I first met him when he saved one of my ladies," she said the second day out from Edoras. "It was springtime, and we were all out gathering flowers for a festival. She ventured too close to the banks of the Bruinen, which was in full spate from the snow-melt, trod upon a mossy spot, slipped and fell in. We all followed, crying out in fear and distress, for she was being swept towards some rapids, and we had no ropes with us, only the garlands of flowers we had woven."
"A Ranger broke out of the woods upon the opposite side of the river bank. He surveyed the situation, slid out of his pack, swiftly removed his boots and weapons, undid the roll of rope he carried there, and fastened it about his waist, all the while looking skyward in a most curious fashion. Then he dove into the current, the rope trailing behind him. With swift strokes he headed downstream towards my lady, and soon reached her. We wondered what he would do then, for they were hard by the rocks, and though he began to try to fight his way back upstream one-handed, it was obvious that the current was too swift, and he too hampered by his companion. We watched with our hearts in our throats, unable to do anything, expecting to see them dashed to pieces at any moment. Even I was helpless, for the river answers to my father's will and not to mine."
"Then the Eagle came, and stooping low, deftly seized the rope where it trailed behind them in the water. Wings beating furiously, it hovered in midair till the rope snapped taut, then carefully began to backwing towards our side of the river. Eventually, the Ranger's feet found footing in the shallows, and he stood and hauled his fair burden onto the bank."
"It was then, as he stood there sodden and bedraggled, that he introduced himself rather stiffly as Halaran son of Hethrandel of the House of the Eagle." Arwen smiled in sad reminiscence. "He was your age then, perhaps even a bit younger, certainly very young to have earned his star, but I think by that time he had already experienced enough of his kinsmen's distrust that he was not one to make friends easily. He had never visited Imladris before, and I knew him not, but the Eagle who had aided his rescue I knew quite well--Landroval, brother to the Eagles' chieftain, Gwaihir. It appeared that they were great friends, and when Halaran was patrolling close to the Hithaeglir, traveling companions. As had been the case that day, fortunately for my lady." Arwen paused for a moment, stretching a bit in the saddle, turning her face up to the sun, and giving her elven horse a gentle pat on the neck. Then she resumed her tale.
"There is really nothing much to say after that. Halaran helped us get the lady back to Imladris, and I saw to it that he was cared for as well. He feasted with us that night, and accepted the thanks of my lady Mehariel's parents and Mehariel herself with awkward courtesy. The next morning he resumed his patrol, though we urged him to rest a day or two. But after that, he became one of the Dunedain Aragorn preferred to send to Imladris upon errands, and when he came, we would play chess sometimes of an evening. I quite liked him." She gave me an ironic smile.
"I do possess a well-polished mirror, Hethlin, and am not unaware of my charms. I appreciated your father because he was one of the few people who did not seem to care that I was beautiful. I was just his friend and chess opponent Arwen, and he always looked me in the eye."
"I think he may have tried to teach me to play when I was little, but I had no patience for it at the time. I used to like to play my own games with the pieces," I said thoughtfully. "He would play with my mother in the evenings, every once in a while." Arwen actually grinned of a sudden.
"Oh, here is another memory for you! Your father came to Imladris with a message right after Liraniel had agreed to marry him. He'd always been a bit of a dour, silent type, but when we talked that evening after dinner, he was almost gushing! So very happy, and so disbelieving of his good fortune. His far more handsome friend had also been courting her, and had been refused in favor of him, which greatly astonished him. He found it difficult to believe that anyone could love him for his better qualities alone." She threw me a sidelong, humorous look. "You are very much like him in that respect." I decided to let that one pass, and encouraged her to tell me more tales, which she was more than willing to do. The Prince, who had listened in on some of this by virtue of proximity, gestured me over to the litter when Arwen had ridden to the front of the line to rejoin her father. She had been making an effort to spend as much time with him as possible.
"I notice you have only asked Lady Arwen about your father," he said with that smile of his that seemed to be created by both eyes and mouth. "Why do you not ask her about your grandfather as well? You never knew him, and she might very well have. Or your great-grandfather or his father or--"
"--I get the idea, my lord prince," I said, giving him a wry look. "Why exactly are you bringing this to my attention? Is this about Elrohir?" The Prince chuckled.
"Must everything be about Elrohir? Though I know that he would greatly enjoy the idea that it was."
"I was just wondering if this were not yet another warning about the perils of becoming involved with the Firstborn." Imrahil gave me a much soberer look.
"I think that on this journey you have already seen first-hand something of that pain. You need no further warnings from me." His manner then lightened again, in a mercurial shift that was rather....elvish. The longer we traveled with them, the more like them he seemed to become. "I was merely thinking of how sundered you are from all of your kin and history. Short of traveling to the North Kingdom yourself, Lady Arwen may be your best resource for acquainting yourself with your family's background. Better even than the King." I shook my head in admiring disbelief.
"My lord, I think you are the only person I know who could look at the Lady Arwen and think of her as a resource." Imrahil glanced towards the front of our caravan to where Arwen rode, her slim figure erect, her black hair bannering in the breeze.
"I look at the Lady Arwen and think of her as a great many things. An ancient, exquisite being. A healer, an artisan. A woman with the greatest capacity to love I have ever known. My Queen. My good friend Aragorn's wife. And the personification of every bittersweet, tragic love story I was fed as a child by the bevy of minstrels that infested my father's court."
"You make minstrels sound like some kind of plague, my lord!" I laughed. The Prince smiled knowingly.
"Just you wait till you are at Dol Amroth! You will see then. It is not amusing to have your least deed immortalized in song! They seem to think it worthy of note if I manage to dress myself correctly of a morning!"
"The attention you give to your wardrobe is legendary, my lord-- they may have a point!" Imrahil winced in exaggerated fashion, crediting me a hit. "But I know what you mean. Someone recently threatened to write a song about me." He followed my glance towards where Elrohir rode with graceful arrogance.
"He did, did he? About the Pelennor, I take it?" I nodded, and he grinned boyishly. "I think that is a song I would like to hear someday!"
"He's already told the story, at the Ranger party the night before the King was crowned. It wasn't anything like what really happened--it was very.....neat and tidy. Like I planned everything, cool as you please. Nothing about me crying my eyes out, or anything like that." The Prince nodded knowingly.
"Ah, but there wouldn't have been, Hethlin. You've run right up against the difference between legend and life. Take Aragorn, for instance. There will be songs aplenty of his deeds of battle, and how he conquered the Darkness with the Sword Reforged. But there won't be any about the former Ranger who is the despair of his valet for his indifference to fashion and of his secretary for his indifference to schedules, and who is addicted to pipeweed."
"Is he really?" I asked, intrigued. "The first time I met him he had his pipe with him, and he even let me try it, but is the habit that strong?"
"Oh yes." The Prince's tone was dryly amused. "Breathes more smoke than a dragon does, does our King. Never you fear, though--Lady Arwen will break him of that in a hurry. That is the ultimate purpose of wives, I deem--to civilize us loutish menfolk. She has already confided to me that she finds his pipeweed habit repugnant, and has no intention of letting him indulge it within doors." A mental picture of the King forlornly puffing away outdoors in the icy cold rain of a Minas Tirith winter crossed my mind, and I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. The Prince, seeming to follow my thought as he sometimes did, laughed.
"I think he will get compensation enough for his sacrifice, never you fear!" And I had to laugh as well.
"So you freely admit that all men are louts, sir?"
"Initially, at least."
"And do you include yourself in that number?"
"Indeed, though I am no longer a member in good standing. What you have here," and he straightened up and laid a hand theatrically upon his chest, "is the end product of many years of labor by a good woman. Verily, had I succumbed to the blandishments of one of the beauties of Minas Tirith, the poor woman would have had little to do--for I have been exquisitely trained, and how can one improve upon perfection?" I endeavored to give him my version of the Ironical Elven Eyebrow, but it must still have been lacking something, for it seemed to have little effect.
"I think you should succumb," I told him. "It would do you good."
"Indeed, you have mentioned your concern about my lack of a romantic life before." He settled himself back upon his pillows once more and gave me his full, undivided attention. "And what sort of lady do you think I should succumb to?" His grey eyes were very intent upon mine, and I grew both flushed and flustered for no good reason as I pondered my answer.
"Well, there are certainly widows enough in Gondor right now," I said at last. One of his eyebrows arched far more effectively than had mine.
"Widows?"
"Yes, widows. Because things you have said have made me think you wouldn't want to wed a young girl." His mouth twisted in a wry smile.
"Very well then, we have established the first requirement--a degree of maturity." I nodded.
"And she should be a great lady, who knows the ways of courts, since you spend so much time there." The Prince considered this carefully for a moment.
"Such things can be taught, you know. Nimrien cared not for courts at all, and spent as little time as possible at them."
"I did not know that."
"Well, it is true. But I shall stop interrupting since the Royal Matchmaker of Rohan is advising me, and if one seeks the opinion of an expert, one should listen to it." I smiled a little at his using the title I'd thought to give myself earlier.
"She should like books and clothes and horses, since you like those things. And have a strong stomach so you can take her to sea."
"Valar, Hethlin, I might as well put a wig over a mirror and marry that!" I glowered at him.
"You said you were not going to interrupt!"
"I know I did, but you leave me so few possibilities! Someone my age, who likes exactly the same things I like. What is the matter with marrying someone different from one's self? Exploring each others' differences?"
"I don't know!" I said, suddenly frustrated. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elrohir give us a curious glance. "I've never been married! I don't even know if that works! Perhaps YOU should just tell ME what sort of woman you should marry." There was a long silence as the Prince gave me a very peculiar look, then he grimaced and picked up a book that lay at his side.
"I think not, child, for it truly matters not. And as I said before, it is rather too late for that sort of thing. But I did not mean to upset you. Why do you not ride ahead with Elrohir for a bit? I am weary and wish to read in peace for a while." I watched as, true to his word, he opened the book and bowed his dark head over it. After a moment, feeling my gaze upon him, he flicked his hand at me without ever raising his eyes.
"Why are you still here? Off with you now." I went.
As we drew closer to Minas Tirith, Lord Elrond's mood grew darker, though he endeavored to conceal this, and the tension between himself and Elrohir increased. Elrohir did not take me to his bed, nor would I have permitted it, but we rode and talked together often, usually took our meals together, and of course he helped his brother with my arms training. From time to time I would look up to see Lord Elrond's brooding glance upon me.
On the sixth evening out of Edoras, we halted somewhat short of the Min-Rimmon beacon. The Lord of Imladris did not stoop to quarrel within earshot of the camp, but he and his son went out into the night and apparently had yet another dreadful argument privately. Or as privately as they could--Elladan could feel Elrohir's distress and anger through his link, and Arwen certainly knew what was going on. Her beautiful face was dark and quenched-looking as she moved about the camp. The Prince, ever sensitive to mood, was troubled. As for me, the downside of my newly strengthened bond with Elrohir became very evident--my nerves were positively thrumming, and I found it difficult to eat my supper. Lord Celeborn had been teaching me how to shield myself, to block Elrohir out when I wanted some distance, but I was too inexperienced to deal with the emotional onslaught I was feeling now.
Halfway through the meal, I felt movement beside me, and looked up to find the Lord of Lorien settling himself at my side. He indicated that I should turn about and face him, and I did so. Taking my hands in his, I felt his mind slide into mine. Suddenly, calm and peace washed over my mind in a soothing flood. I sighed, and slumped in relief, and he smiled gently.
"I can see what we need to work on the most, Lady Hethlin."
"Indeed, my lord," I replied gratefully. "Thank you."
"You are welcome. Now perhaps you see why Elves avoid passion."
"Aye. Elves, when they let themselves, feel things far more fiercely than Men, it would seem. Though you always appear to be very peaceful and serene, my lord."
"I have only ever had but one passion in my life, and it has been enough," he replied with a smile, his silver-blue eyes flicking across the campfire, to where Lady Galadriel sat close to the Prince, conversing quietly. "Well, two actually. My daughter is very dear to me as well." He pondered thoughtfully for a moment, then added, "I love my grandchildren too--I suppose I am a very passionate fellow after all." The absurd contrast of his words with his gentle manner made me laugh, and that brought in turn a twinkle to his eyes.
"That is better. Come now, let us see if I cannot help you with this. I have obviously erred somewhere in your instruction, for this is much more difficult for you than it should be. Attend me, child, and we will see if I can mend things somewhat......."
With Lord Celeborn's patient instruction and reinforcement, I was able to shield rather better after a time, though I could still feel Elrohir's distress. When he returned to camp, he retreated into his tent, and after a moment, his brother followed him. Lord Elrond returned to the camp fire and started talking with the Prince, though I could feel the occasional glance in my direction. Rather uncomfortable, I rose after a time and sought my own rest in the tent I shared with Arwen, but though I lay awake for a couple of hours, my thoughts churning, sleep eluded me. Eventually, I got up, casting a glance towards my tent mate. Arwen was truly asleep, I deemed, her silver-grey eyes staring unblinking upwards. There was a tiny crease between her smooth brows, and her mouth was rather tightly held. I pulled my boots on as quietly as possible, and slid out of the tent.
Save for the sentries, all were abed. After a moment's hesitation, I made my way over to the tent shared by the twins, and slipped inside.
"Snowsteel?" came Elladan's voice softly.
"Aye. Are the two of you all right?"
"I am. As for brother......I am glad that you are here." My night vision was good enough to discern that he was lying close to Elrohir, and holding the covers up so that I could slip in on the opposite side. Removing my boots, I did so, finding my lover clad even as I was, in breeches and shirt. I spooned up close to his back, but when I did, he turned over, threw an arm about my neck, and tucked his head beneath my chin. He did not speak, but proximity made it easy to sense his grief and dismay. I tried once more to send warmth and comfort through our link, and ran my fingers soothingly through his silky hair. Elladan snuggled closer on the other side, until Elrohir was cocooned between us. I could feel a sort of echo from him, as he too tried to comfort his twin.
After a time, Elrohir sighed, his breathing slowed, and a calmness descended upon him. Even without seeing his staring eyes, I was reasonably certain he'd fallen asleep, and was glad of it. Elladan spoke quietly once more.
"Thank the Valar, or perhaps I should say the Dunedan. Mayhap I can now get some rest myself. He told me nothing of what transpired between Father and himself, other than to remark that he was certain that it was merely Father's grief over Arwen that was causing him to lash out so. Will you stay?"
"For a time at least, to make sure he is really asleep. I could not rest either."
"Well, a good night to you then. And thank you again, Snowsteel."
"You are welcome, Elladan." I bent my head slightly and dropped a kiss on Elrohir's. He murmured something incoherent, and shifted even closer to me. I closed my eyes, and hoped that sleep would come at last. After a time, it finally did.
I awoke abruptly, for no good reason, shortly before dawn. Perhaps it was anxiety that Lord Elrond should discover me in his son's bed. In any event, I was fully awake, and going back to sleep did not seem likely. Carefully, I slid my arm out from under Elrohir, and he murmured and shifted back towards his brother, till they were resting forehead to forehead, Elladan's arm thrown across Elrohir protectively. I smiled at the loving picture, imagining them as small Elven children sleeping in exactly the same way. Elrohir stirred once more, as I tucked the blanket back around him, but did not wake.
Putting my boots back on, I crept from the tent surreptitiously, half-expecting to see Lord Elrond sitting there waiting to fall upon me like the wrath of the Valar themselves. Lord Elrond, however, must have had better things to do than ambush one puny Ranger, for he was nowhere in evidence. There was someone else sitting at the campfire, which had been built back up. He was watching a small teapot set over it upon a stick, barefoot, and clad in naught but a shirt and breeches. His head lifted, as I came out of the tent.
"The tea is nearly ready, Hethlin, should you care to have some." His voice was pitched low, so as not to wake the sleepers nearby. I did the same, and hunkered down beside him.
"My lord, what do you up at this hour? You should be abed."
"I should," he concurred, "but I could not rest. Perhaps our Elven friends have affected me, for my mind is uneasy." He proffered me a slice of bread spread with honey, and I took it gratefully, my stomach suddenly reminding me I'd had little dinner the night before. "There seems to be something in the air....." I looked at him and wondered if he perhaps possessed something of his nephew's gift. He had the means at hand on a plate to prepare more honey bread, and did so for himself.
"Do you think the caravan is going to be attacked?" I asked him, as he chewed his first bite. He swallowed deliberately after a few moments, then answered.
"No, I think it is just Lord Elrond affecting me. He is a very powerful personality, and it is difficult to shut him out."
"Elrohir says you shield very well for a mortal, that he cannot read you." The Prince cocked an eyebrow.
"And has Elrohir been trying to read me?" I stared down at my bread.
"A while back he did," I admitted. "I do not believe he does so any more."
"That is good to know," said Imrahil. I could feel his eyes upon me as I ate. "Hethlin," he said at last, "Do you truly believe you could ever be free to love someone else bound as you are to him?"
"He wants me to," I replied rather defensively. "We both agree that we should be free to seek lovers among our own kindreds. It is not truly a marriage-bond, and we neither of us asked for this to happen." The Prince frowned slightly.
"Not when he first saved you, no. But you both made a conscious decision to become lovers in Lorien, knowing that the bond would be strengthened as a result. So you can no longer plead total ignorance of the situation."
"I was not aware that I had to plead anything," I said rather stiffly. Imrahil threw up his empty hand in an apologetic gesture.
"I am sorry! Apparently, I am as out of sorts as everyone else! I told you some time ago that your relationship with Prince Elrohir was none of my business, and I should hold to that. I simply worry about both of you, and yesterday was a distressing day for me, seeing the two of you so upset."
"I appreciate your concern, my lord," I said, somewhat mollified. The Prince took up two mugs, and a towel that seemed to appear magically from nowhere, and poured tea for us both. He regarded me keenly over the rim of his cup as he drank.
"Lord Elrond knows you were with Elrohir last night." Wincing, I picked up my mug and sipped from it in turn.
"I thought he might. There's no help for it."
"Do you fear he will take you to task about it?" I shrugged.
"I have no idea, but there is nothing I can do about it if he does. I have already told him that I will not let Elrohir bind himself to me and die. He does not believe me. But I will tell him again if I must, for all the good it will do." The Prince's fingertips stroked his mug thoughtfully.
"I have a suggestion, Hethlin, if you would be agreeable to it. Would you not enjoy a bit of a respite from this situation?" I admitted wearily that it would be nice. "Does not distance lessen the link?"
"Aye, it does. Though Elrohir can sense Elladan from much farther away than he can me. Why?"
"I would have you finish breaking your fast, dress and arm yourself, and saddle Caerith. I want you to ride to that inn your friends own up the road--what is it called? The Beacon?"
"Aye, my lord," I replied, puzzled.
"I will give you some coin, and you will have the landlady bake us some of those dried-apple tarts of hers, enough to go all around. I had one on the journey to Lorien, and they were very good."
"Talith's apple tarts are legendary," I agreed with a reminiscent smile. "Father always used to get me some when we came there to get supplies."
"Well, there you have it. Give Caerith a good gallop--he is faster than Fortune, and he has been rather rank this week. We will probably be a couple of hours behind you--time enough for Mistress Talith to work her magic. Wait for us there. You will get a bit of a break from all of this, I will have an opportunity to speak to Lord Elrond about this matter, which is something I've been wanting to do for a while, Caerith will get a good run, your friends will gain some custom from it, and hopefully, the apple tarts will sweeten dispositions all around. Everybody wins." I looked down for a moment, smiling a little at his description and noticing in passing that he had handsome feet for a man, slender and high-arched.
"It does seem a good idea, my lord. Only you don't have to fight my battles for me." The Prince sighed, stood up and stretched, minding his mug as he did so.
"Hethlin, the liege lord/vassal relationship is supposed to be a reciprocal one. I fully expect my vassals to be willing to lay their lives down for me at certain times, and at certain other times, they can expect me to protect them and their interests in situations where they have insufficient rank or resources to do so. This is one of those situations. Now get dressed, and Caerith saddled, and be ready to ride out. That's an order."
"Well, if you put it that way, my lord...." I grinned, set my mug down, stood and bowed, then moved to my tent to begin my preparations.
It was not long ere I stood before him once more, Caerith at my side as the sky began pinkening in the East. A small pouch of soft leather that clinked softly was produced and given to me. The camp was beginning to stir.
"Get you gone while you still may, Hethlin," the Prince said with a smile. "You should encounter no trouble upon the Road, but may the Valar guard and guide you anyway."
"You're the one who needs the guarding, my lord," I declared, "for you're the one remaining here with Lord Peredhil!" He chuckled, and I turned, kneed Caerith in the belly, and when the stallion oofed, tightened the girth the last two notches he had hoped I would forget about. Then I swung up, clasped arms briefly with the Prince, and set off into the growing light.