I slept in the litter for most of the rest of that day, waking only when we stopped in the night to eat some supper, and fall right back to sleep again. The next day and the day after that, the Prince and I divided time in the horse litter between us--I rode in it during the morning while he took it in the afternoon. That evening, we reached Amon Din. There, the Prince went to the outpost and using his authority, sent riders to Minas Tirith to announce our arrival. He returned to the camp, and sat down by the fire, watching the elves fix dinner, a graceful culinary dance.
"I had originally intended to ride to Minas Tirith myself this night," he admitted to me with a weary smile. "I had hoped that resting all afternoon would give me the strength. But I fear I haven't the stomach for riding another forty miles this night after all."
"You have been riding much longer every day though, my lord," I consoled him. "And you will ride into Minas Tirith tomorrow, as you had wished."
"And sleep in my own bed tomorrow night," he agreed, with a smile. "And you can rest in that lovely room at the Citadel again." At my look of puzzlement, he added--"We never had the chance to move your things to the townhouse." I nodded my comprehension.
"When is the wedding to take place?"
"The day after tomorrow, according to Lord Elrond. Midsummer Day. A most propitious time. As the King's kinswoman, you will of course attend." I hadn't really considered that.
"Will I be attending you, my lord?"
"No, Hethlin, as Aragorn's kinswoman you will be in the King's party." I absorbed that and nodded once more. My brow furrowed as I pondered a possible problem. "Whatever shall I wear?" slipped out before I could help myself. The corner of the Prince's mouth twitched upward.
"Ah yes, the eternal question......Well, if you will accept my poor advice, I would say that the dark red outfit you wore to see me before we left for Lorien is very attractive, as are any of the elven clothes you acquired in Lorien."
"Hmmmm, that gives me...four, no five things to choose from, for I have another very nice outfit you haven't seen yet. I shall be needing a wain myself, if this continues," I informed him with a straight face. To my delight, he threw his head up in a gesture I'd not seen from him in a while, and laughed merrily.
"Fortunately for you, I have the daughter who can tell you just where to get one!" At that moment, Lord Celeborn appeared, and conscripted me for my evening lesson, and I took my leave of him.
Long as the summer days were, the Prince had sent his message while Anor still rode the skies. I had my lesson with Lord Celeborn, demonstrated to Elrohir that my shielding was much better by successfully blocking him out entirely, then ate supper with him as darkness finally fell, listening to Glorfindel tell the Prince about the elven city he'd lived in during the First Age--Gondolin, I think it was called. Truth to tell, the elven cities tended to run together a bit in my mind--they all had long, elegant names, and from what I could tell, they had all come to bad ends and long since been swallowed by the Sea. It was a rather sad reminder of how far the Firstborn had fallen since their heyday.
Elves being elves, other stories and songs followed Glorfindel's. The night was far advanced, and I was just debating whether I wanted to lie by the fire and have a small nap before proceeding to my tent to sleep, or just go there and be done with it, when we heard the sound of hooves approaching. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had departed some time back, to take a walk together, but the rest of us looked up, and I saw the sentries move forward, towards a pair of tall Gondorian couriers like unto the ones the Prince had sent out. The riders we had sent to Minas Tirith and those that had returned had both made good time, I thought, though it was certainly possible to do that if one had several fresh changes of horses.
Haldir the fletcher challenged the riders in Westron, asking their business, but the taller of the two answered him in fluent Elvish, in a voice that brought the entire Peredhil family's heads snapping up in a hurry, and Arwen to her feet in an instant, her face alight. Her reaction told me his identity even before her delighted "Estel!" rang out. He dismounted, and pulled off his helmet, revealing that he was in fact the King, and the next moment he had his arms suddenly full of lovely elf-maiden, and was spinning her around off of her feet.
Most everyone was watching this display, but my attention was suddenly drawn to the other courier, who was removing his helm as well, and looking about at all the elves with a slightly bedazzled expression.
"Faramir!" I exclaimed, equally delighted, and the Prince looked in his direction and smiled broadly.
"Faramir, lad! Who's minding the store?" He laughed, bowed politely to the elves that came to take the two horses away, and strolled over to us.
"Hurin was kind enough to do so, but he was very nervous about the whole business, and I think it will be some time before he forgives us." We stood to greet him, and he embraced his uncle for a moment, then held him at arm's length, studying him, a slight frown upon his face.
"Are you all right, uncle? You do not look well. You've lost some weight, I do believe." Imrahil chuckled.
"That is not necessarily a bad thing at my age, lad! I am fine. I was ill for a little bit while we were in Lorien but I'm better now." He embraced Faramir once more, and when he did, he shot me a warning look over his nephew's shoulder. I gave him a tiny nod. If that was the way he wished to play things, then as my liege lord, I must obey him. He released Faramir, who turned his attention to me, took in my bandaged hand, and the fading bruises on my face, and frowned once more, complete with worry line. Stepping forward, he took me into his arms carefully, and gave me a hug.
"And you, Heth, look at you! What have you been up to?"
"Killing orcs. Many orcs, all by herself, lad," responded the Prince before I could think of what to say, bemused as I was by the close contact. "She--" He broke off suddenly, for something had caught his eye. I looked to where he was looking, as did Faramir, who released me, and found many pairs of eyes fastened intently upon Lord Elrond. He was standing by the fire looking down at Aragorn, who was now kneeling at his feet, with a totally inscrutable expression. There was a long moment when the only sound was the crackling of the campfire, and then Aragorn spoke.
"My lord, I have done as you demanded. I am King of Gondor and Arnor both."
"And I have done as I promised, son of Arathorn," the Lord of Imladris replied. "I have brought to you both the remainder of your legacy, and my daughter to be your bride, and when we arrive in your city of Minas Tirith, I will surrender them to you."
"And will you give me your blessing along with my legacy and your daughter, my lord?" Aragorn asked, bowing his head and speaking so quietly he could barely be heard. "For you are the only father I have ever known, and it was never my wish to cause you grief." There was another long moment of silence. I saw Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel glide quietly up, watched Arwen watch the two people she loved best with her heart in her throat, and caught Elrohir casting a worried glance at me. Then Lord Elrond's slender hand lifted slowly from his side, and drifted down the rough black head in a gentle caress.
"Arise, Estel," he commanded softly. "For of all the things I have demanded of you, I have never asked that you kneel to me."
When Aragorn rose, they stood looking at each other silently for a long time. Lord Elrond's face was no longer emotionless, quite the contrary--regret and sorrow and anger and affection all seemed to flit across it in quick succession, only to be accepted and absorbed by the grey eyes so like his own that were fastened beseechingly upon his face with concern and love. Again, slowly and seemingly almost unwillingly, Lord Elrond's arms rose and embraced his foster-son. When he did so, Aragorn laid his head upon Lord Elrond's shoulder, his arms came up and clasped his foster-father tightly in turn, and Elrond sighed a profound and resigned sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul.
"It is good to see you come into your own at last, my son," he said softly, "for I know that your labors have been long and arduous. And I have feared greatly for you these last few months."
"As I have for you, father," Aragorn said, his voice muffled against Lord Elrond's neck. The Peredhil turned his cheek against Aragorn's hair for a moment, then straightened, and held him at arm's length, regarding him gravely.
"Come, Estel, sit by the fire and tell me of this city of yours, what we should expect, and how we are to do this thing." I saw the tension pour out of the twins and Arwen; indeed, everyone seemed to relax at once. Smiling that beautiful, sweet smile of his, Aragorn gestured towards Faramir.
"T'would be better to leave the telling about the city to one who has lived there his whole life, father. This is my Steward, the Prince of Ithilien, Faramir son of Denethor." Faramir bowed deeply as Lord Elrond turned to him.
"My lord, you need no introduction. I would spend time with Mithrandir when he visited us, and he always had much to say about the wisdom of the Lord of Imladris. When I had the dream about Imladris, I wished to journey seeking it myself, but my father gave the errand to my brother instead, deeming him the hardier, or so he told me at the time." Faramir smiled a gently self-deprecating smile. "I suspect the true reason was that he knew if I ever found your libraries, he would not see me again." Lord Elrond gave Faramir an approving look.
"I have been told that you are a scholar, my lord Steward, as well as a man stalwart in battle. It is a rare combination. You might indeed have appreciated Imladris more than your brother did, but though he was not a scholar, he was a valorous man, and I am glad to have known him."
"Thank you, my lord," was all that Faramir said, but I could tell by his expression that he was both touched and saddened by the mention of Boromir. The exact details of his brother's death were something that even the Rangers had not been privy to, other than that it had been in battle, and had to do with the Ringbearer's quest. I knew that he had regretted not being able to lay Boromir to rest in Rath Dinen, though that might have been for the best, since the Stewards' mausoleum had burned and collapsed. And I had always thought that if Faramir's vision were true, the boat floating down to the Sea was a fitting end for a descendant of the blood of Numenor.
His momentary sorrow, however, was soon replaced by awe and amazement, as the King introduced him to one legendary elf after another. I thought I saw a tiny bit of trepidation on the part of the King, as he introduced his Steward to his Queen. Faramir was a reserved individual, but he tended to form opinions of people quickly, as witnessed by his trust of Frodo and Samwise after brief acquaintance, and his almost instantaneous love for Eowyn. The King's duties would be much harder to bear if his chief advisor and the woman he loved disliked each other. There was no mistaking the relief on Aragorn's face when the two of them took to each other immediately, chatting like old friends.
Everyone resumed their seats about the campfire, including Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. I ended up across the campfire from Faramir and the King and Arwen, at the Prince's side, with Elrohir upon my other side. For a brief time, Faramir explained about the city, and the ceremonies, which had been somewhat planned in advance, the King having apparently let him in on the secret at last. Some modifications to suit the elven guests were discussed. Then the stories began once more, and I watched as delight overcame him, made him expansive and joyous in a way I'd not seen since Eowyn agreed to wed him. He listened to the tales intently, eyes alight, and between stories conversed eagerly and fluently with the elves, speaking with hands as much as mouth, it seemed. His happiness made me smile, and when I looked over at the Prince, he was smiling as well. The King and Arwen also found his enthusiasm amusing, when they were not intent upon each other.
Watching him, it occurred to me of a sudden that there was nothing I could ever do that would make him look at me with that joy, and my weariness came back ten-fold. Feeling my change of mood, Elrohir turned towards me. I felt his mind touch mine briefly, and his lips thinned, though his eyes were gentle.
*Are you tired, Snowsteel?*
*Aye, Elrohir.*
*Well then, let us put you to bed, by all means.* He rose to his feet, leaned over, and with a gentle grip upon my good elbow, helped lever me to mine. "Father, Grandfather, Grandmother, Estel, my lord Prince, my lord Steward," he said aloud. "Snowsteel is still unwell, and she is weary. And tomorrow is a busy day, with a distance to ride. So we wish you a good night." And with no further ado, he took me by the arm and led me off to the tent he shared with his brother. I dared a quick glance over my shoulder to see Lord Elrond and the Prince almost equally expressionless. The King and Faramir both looked very surprised.
*What do you think you are doing?* I sent to him as he walked me there. His reply was matter-of-fact.
*Not what you think. I have no designs upon your person this night. But has it occurred to you that Arwen and Aragorn might wish for some time to themselves? And you share her tent.* That had in fact not occurred to me, but it made a deal of sense. I admitted that to him, though I added--
*Are you absolutely sure that your desire for my company this night has naught to do with your wanting to show up Faramir or your father?* The evil twinkle surfaced suddenly in his eyes.
*Honestly, Snowsteel, you are always so swift to attribute the basest of motives to me! If you think so badly of me, I wonder that you are willing to keep company with me at all!* My mental snort was answered by an actual chuckle as he escorted me into the tent.
Once within, he was all solicitude as he helped me off with my boots, and folded back the blankets for me. He himself stripped of everything but his breeches, then slid in beside me, and took me gently into his arms. I buried my nose in the soft skin of his neck, breathed in the piney scent of his hair, and yawned.
*If I could convince Father to help you, would you yet seek to win Faramir for yourself, Snowsteel?* his mental voice asked very quietly.
I slid my fingers into his hair, and began to comb through it carefully. I loved the way it felt as it slipped silkily across my fingertips, and he seemed to enjoy that particular caress a great deal.
*Nay, Elrohir, for he truly loves Eowyn, and would think it a betrayal. Or pity me. In any event, I would lose even his friendship, and I do not want to do that.*
*Then you must accept that he will never be yours.*
*I know that, oh wise and ancient one,* I agreed, snuggling even closer. *But it has been a very little time, even as mortals reckon it, since I learned that he would never be mine, and it still comes hard at times.*
He sighed. *Indeed. Would you like me to help you to sleep?*
*Nay. I am weary enough to do it on my own.* Another yawn corroborated my statement. *But I would like you to sing to me.*
*You wish me to sing for you?* His mental voice was very surprised.
*Aye. You keep saying you do not have a nice voice as your people reckon it, but I'm just a silly mortal, and I think it is beautiful.* Pleasure surged through our link, and I smiled. Needing no further persuasion, he began at once to sing softly to me in Sindarin, a song of the seasons and the plants and the trees, a summer-song. If it changed to anything else after that, I was not aware, for I was fast asleep.
I awoke very early the next morning, I knew not why, for I had been very weary the night before. Though I did not recollect any particular dreams, I felt reasonably rested, with none of the disquiet that comes from bad dreams one does not remember. Looking to either side of me, I found the twins, their silver eyes staring peacefully upward. I got up carefully as I could, but their elven senses thwarted me and I woke them both anyway.
"Snowsteel?" inquired Elrohir sleepily.
"Go back to sleep, Elrohir--it's not dawn yet. I just can't sleep anymore." He nodded, and snuggled back down. Elladan mumbled something incoherent, and moved into the warm place in the blankets I'd just vacated, closer to his brother. The twins really were quite sweet when semi-conscious, I noted again, remembering the night not long ago when Elladan and I had comforted Elrohir.
Pulling my boots on, I stepped outside, finding that several of the servitor elves were already awake, grooming horses, building the fires up and beginning breakfast. Besides myself, there was only one other person awake--a tall figure who stood upon the opposite side of the firepit, clad not in robes, but shirt and breeches and boots, his black hair unfilleted and falling loose about his shoulders. I saw him, and froze, and a wintry smile played about his lips.
"Ah, Lady Hethlin," said Lord Elrond. "How fortuitous. Would you be so kind as to take a walk with me?"
I could hardly refuse him. "Aye, my lord," I said, and fell in beside him as he walked away from the camp.
"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked in a perfectly civil tone. "Were you in discomfort? Was that why you are awake so early?"
"Nay, Lord Elrond, I am feeling very much better--thanks to you. I simply could not sleep for some reason."
"Nor could I." There was a long silence as we paced over the dewy grass. Then he spoke again. "Your liege lord tells me that you are barren, due to orcs assaulting you some years ago. Is that true?" Surprised, I shot him a startled look.
"Aye, my lord. After Lord Faramir found me, I was ill for weeks. I had several fevers. I was too ill to be moved, in fact--the Rangers were sure I would die. When the healers in Minas Tirith finally got a chance to look at me, they said I would never bear children because of the fevers, and because the orcs had......damaged me inside."
"And outside too, it seems--I have seen the scars. How long did the orcs hold you?"
"A week, I think. It took them three days to get back to the Anduin once they decided to leave, but they scouted around a bit first."
"And they used you often during that time?"
Despite my desire not to antagonize him any more than was necessary, my voice grew very dry. "I wasn't exactly keeping count. Everyday, though, and most of the troop."
"I apologize. It is necessary that I know what was done to you." At my quizzical look, he added, "You have quite the advocate in your liege lord, you know."
"The Prince is the very best of men," I agreed. Lord Elrond's mouth twisted in an ironic smile.
"He is certainly among the very boldest of men! Few there are who would have the courage to chide the Lord of Imladris for what they felt was a lapse of duty, but he has done so. And upon reflection, I must admit his arguments have some merit. Therefore, after the wedding, and while I am still in Minas Tirith, I will endeavor to heal your condition, if it is possible and if you wish me to try." My amazement seemed to amuse him. "I am not quite the troll you think I am, Lady Hethlin." I blushed, and was grateful that the gradually lightening darkness would still hide it.
"I am sorry, my lord." Lord Elrond shrugged.
"Do not be. I have not been particularly kind to you. And in truth, I still do not like you. I think that this.....relationship.... you have with my son is ill-considered, and likely to doom you both to a great deal of heartache. But I am a healer, and where there is a need, I am compelled to meet it. There are things you need to know, however, before you agree."
"Such as, my lord?"
"Such as that I might not be able to help you at all. I will not know until I give you a thorough examination. And it might be that I would discover I could only help you partially--for instance, you might be able to conceive, but not bear a child without danger. In that case, I would not enable you to conceive, for despite what you may think, I do not wish to emperil your life." I nodded my understanding. "Also, depending upon what I have to do, you could be confined to a bed for a week or more when I am done. And you might be quite uncomfortable afterwards for a bit. Is this an acceptable consequence?"
"A week or more of discomfort, so that I might have children? A more than acceptable consequence, my lord!" A ghost of a smile graced his lips at my vehemence.
"Strange--I had not thought you the motherly sort, lady." My turn to shrug.
"Perhaps I am not. Though I had a little brother and sister, and I never minded caring for them."
"They perished with the rest of your family, did they not?"
"Aye. The orcs roasted them alive while I watched." That halted him in his tracks for a moment, which surprised me, for I would have thought that he must have become quite inured to the horrible things that could happen to the innocent in war, given his age and experience.
"Valar! I am sorry, Lady Hethlin," and he did sound genuinely remorseful. "I see now why you are a Ranger. And why the orcs at Min-rimmon were in serious trouble."
"It's not quite like that," I explained as we started walking again. "Though that was certainly the reason at first. It's like I told Talith--part of it is simply because it is what I was trained to do, and I am good at it. I'm definitely no good at womanly things--ask Faramir!" Was that a tiny chuckle from the frosty elf-lord? I wasn't sure. "For the first couple of years I was in Ithilien, I did kill things, especially orcs, with the idea that it was vengeance for my family. But no matter how many I killed, they didn't come back, and I didn't feel any better. What did make me feel better in the end, was when I killed the orcs with the idea that at least I was keeping them from doing to anyone else what they'd done to me and mine. That was what truly helped."
"Then you learned a valuable lesson far more swiftly than did my sons," Lord Elrond commented dryly, "Since for five hundred years they have been avenging their mother."
"Elrohir spoke of her to me once. I gather he loves her very much."
"Her departure devastated us all, but him it hurt the worst, I think," he said; then, after a sidelong look at me, added, "You will have noticed that he feels a bit.....inadequate...about his gifts."
"Aye. The first time we were together it was in part, at least, because he wanted to help me. To be a healer for just one night, he said." Lord Elrond actually winced.
"Arwen and Elladan both possess the capability to be gifted healers--but it is not a gift Elrohir received, except in its most basic form. He has the idea he is useful as nothing but a warrior, and though he is very close to Elladan, I think he sometimes feels that the three of us share a bond which excludes him. Consequently, he drew closer to his mother, who was also not a healer--and was also the less-gifted daughter of a very formidable mother."
Frowning slightly, I considered what Elrohir's father had said. "I told him I thought he was drawn to me because what happened to me reminded him of his mother, and he thought he could help me where he couldn't help her." The Lord of Imladris nodded thoughtfully.
"That may be in fact how it began, but I suspect there is more to it by now." I puzzled for a moment over what he meant by that. Surely he wasn't saying he thought Elrohir was in love with me? A bit shaken, I hastened to protest.
"My lord, as I told you before--he promised me before we ever became involved that he would not fall in love with me and give up his immortality!" Lord Elrond gave me a sorrowful smile.
"And that, Lady Hethlin, is every bit as foolish an oath as the one I made him swear to me! I fear that he will be forsworn to one or both of us before this is done, if he is not so already." He sighed, then turned, and began retracing the path we'd come. "But whether he is or no--I will help you if I can, once we are in the White City. For, among the other reasons that have been given me, if he ever did cleave unto you, I would not wish to deprive him of children. Come, let us return to the camp--breakfast will be ready ere long."
When we returned, I parted company with Lord Elrond, who had no desire to breakfast with me, much to my relief. I was already halfway through a pile of those lacy pancakes at the campfire nearest my tent when I was joined by the King and Faramir. I started to rise, but the King forestalled me with a shake of his head and a smile. Faramir, though tousled and with the look of a man who had had little sleep, also seemed quite happy. The Prince came blearily out of his tent shortly after that, took one look at us, declared that we were all entirely too cheerful, and sat down a short way away to sip a mug of hot tea broodingly while we talked. There were times, I had noticed, when the Prince and Morning were not on speaking terms.
"We heard quite the tale last night after you were abed, Hethlin," declared the King, folding one of the lacy pancakes into a neat package with his fingers, and inhaling it in two bites. "Glorfindel, Elladan and Imrahil told us of your single-handed attack upon the inn. An amazing accomplishment."
"Thank you, sir," I responded, working swiftly to finish devouring my own pile of pancakes. "But it was not so extraordinary a thing as you might think. Most of them were drunk and half asleep."
"That is not what Glorfindel told us, Heth," said Faramir, folding one of his pancakes as had the King, though he nibbled the edge of his experimentally first before starting in on it in surprised approval. The King looked over at him and grinned.
"Good, are they not?" He promptly folded and devoured another one. I noticed he'd put a dollop of berry jam in the center before he folded them and wondered suddenly if I were eating them the wrong way. "I have tried and tried, but the Elves will NOT give me the recipe," Aragorn complained. Faramir finished his quickly, and picked up another one.
"That is unfortunate--these are marvelous! Perhaps your Queen knows how to make them?" The King seemed much taken by that possibility.
"There is a thought.....providing she does not require some special ingredients....I could have them every morning for the rest of my life." I looked up as a hand brushed my shoulder gently in greeting. Arwen had joined the circle, still clad in her nightrail and robe, her hair tumbling loose down her back.
"You are assuming, my love," she chided Aragorn with a smile, "that I wish to cook leafcakes every morning for the rest of my life!" The King held a hand up to her, and drew her down into the circle of his arm. He then gave her an imploring look, which, while not quite as pathetic as Elrohir's puppy-dog-eyes, was nonetheless very effective in its own, roughhewn, noble way. Arwen, however, was unmoved.
"I could perhaps be persuaded to cook leafcakes from time to time," she murmured thoughtfully. "Perhaps the morning after every day my husband did without that noxious pipeweed of his." Aragorn groaned, and the Prince laughed and came over, having apparently finally drunk enough tea to become awake and sociable.
"It begins already, Aragorn--the civilization process! And you not even wed yet!"
"You do not need her to cook leafcakes, Estel--you need her to negotiate your treaties!" said yet another new voice, and I smiled as Elrohir, clad in naught but his breeches and a blanket from his bedroll, settled himself beside me. His blanket-clad arm wrapped around me, and I placed a spoonful of jam in one of the leafcakes, folded it, and held it up to his mouth. An amused gleam in his eye, he devoured it in four dainty bites, then kissed my fingertips. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Faramir's eyebrow shoot up. A wicked impulse seized me, and I traced the line of Elrohir's ear with those same fingertips.
"Good morning," I said softly as a shudder ran through him. Eyes hooded of a sudden, he turned his head and kissed the top of mine.
"It is getting better all the time," he remarked. Faramir's other eyebrow joined its companion. The King chuckled.
"It is good to see that you and my foster-brother have resolved your differences, Hethlin," he said, grinning. "When did this occur?"
"In Lorien, my lord, " I replied with as much dignity as I could muster as Elrohir breathed deliberately into my neck. "Upon Cerin Amroth. It is a very beautiful place." Aragorn gave his bride a knowing smile.
"Indeed. I have found it to be so as well." Arwen bestowed upon him one of her melting glances, their heads bent close together, and there was some quiet whispering for a moment. Faramir stared at me and the elf-lord in disbelief, and Elrohir flashed him a beatific smile. Then the Prince got up to go get some food, and Elrohir's free hand tossed something silver across the fire to the King, who, despite his preoccupation, snatched it out of the air with the reflexes of a peerless warrior.
"It is more than time for you to give Hethlin that, Estel, don't you think? And if you do not believe me, then surely you can believe Elladan, and the Prince, and Glorfindel." What the King held in his hand was my father's Dunedan star, and annoyance that Elrohir was being high-handed again warred with curiosity over what Aragorn would say next.
His big thumb rubbed thoughtfully across the roughened, bent place on the star as he stared at it in bemusement.
"Valar, Hethlin, it is long indeed since I last saw this! How long have you been carrying it? And however did you keep it from the orcs?"
"I have not had it long at all, my lord. Elrohir was kind enough to accompany me back to my home while we were on our way to Lorien. I wished to be certain that my family had been properly buried. We found it there in the yard when we were preparing to leave."
"That must have been a difficult journey," he commented sympathetically, holding the star up to examine it further. "Though this was a happy chance. Did you find everything to your satisfaction?"
"Aye, my lord." I turned to Faramir. "I wanted to make sure that Mablung had the right homestead, Faramir--there was more than one in the area. But he'd done just as I would have wanted, picked out the loveliest place for them." Faramir nodded.
"I am glad to hear that, Heth." He had mastered his astonishment, and assumed the somewhat guarded expression he used when he was waiting for others to reveal their motives. "It was kind of you to escort her, Prince Elrohir." Elrohir beamed, an absolutely outrageous smile.
"It was my very great pleasure, son of Denethor." I gave him a swift elbow to the ribs, he oofed, and the King and his sister laughed. Faramir did not.
"Hethlin, I quite agree you are worthy to wear this," the King continued when he'd stopped laughing. "In fact, you'd done more than enough to earn it before this last trip. But I do not wish to bestow it upon you now, so informally. I have a time and place in mind that will be more appropriate. Will you allow me to hold this for a time?" Though disappointed, there was little I could do but nod, and trust that my sovereign had my best interests in mind. Aragorn turned his head, bestowed a kiss upon Arwen, then rose and gestured to Faramir. "We had best be on our way, lord Steward--Hurin will have both our heads if we're not back by noon."
Faramir got up, rubbing his rump with a rueful smile. "It has been a while since I rode so far or fast, my lord. Are we taking the courier horses back again?" The King gave him an evil grin.
"Oh yes. We can't have you getting soft now, can we? Not my right-hand man!" The Prince of Ithilien groaned.
"And to think I believed the job of a Steward who actually had a King would consist of boring paperwork, leisurely lunches, and plenty of time to write poetry!" Aragorn slapped him on the back bracingly.
"Well now you know the terrible truth! Let us be off! Imrahil, Elrohir, Hethlin--a good day to you. Arwen, love--you will be there by dusk, will you not?"
"Yes, Estel, by nightfall. Fare you well."
"And you as well, my love." They departed, and the Prince, who had returned to work upon his own pile of leafcakes, grimaced.
"We should pack up in a few minutes as well, Hethlin. I would like to arrive there somewhat in advance of the caravan." I disentangled myself from Elrohir's blanket and arm with a smile, and the Prince addressed him. "Can you bring the fillies with the rest of the caravan, Lord Elrohir? I fear we will be riding too swiftly for them to keep the pace."
Elrohir inclined his head graciously. "Of course we will, Prince Imrahil. It will be no trouble at all." I gave his shoulder a last, fond squeeze, and got to my feet.
"You finish your breakfast, my lord prince," I said to my liege lord, "I'll start seeing to our things." Imrahil nodded his thanks.
"I will be along in a few minutes, Hethlin. Be careful of your hand. I think between the two of us, we may possibly add up to one whole and healthy person."
An hour later, despite our infirmities and having said our farewells, we were on the road, Caerith and Fortune trotting easily in the still-cool morning air. Faramir and the King had long since departed at the gallop, but they were going to change horses, and we had to make ours last. The Prince was silent for a time after we started, and I did not try to talk to him, figuring that perhaps morning malaise still lay heavily upon him. I was a bit worried about his ability to make an all-day ride, but knew him to be a sensible man, not prone to foolish displays, and figured that if he felt he could make the trip, then he probably could. Lord Elrond certainly seemed to trust his judgment in matters of his own health.
When Amon Din was well behind us, and the Grey Wood upon our right, he finally spoke.
"Some of us were having a great deal of fun this morning, were we not?" I thought for a moment, realized he was speaking of my behavior with Elrohir, and gave him a shame-faced glance.
"I am sorry, my lord. I suppose that was not very knightly." The Prince laughed.
"No, it was not very knightly, but it was very, very understandable! You love Faramir, but he has spurned your love and hurt you. It is only natural that you should want him to see that even though he has refused you, another very handsome man....or elf.... finds you attractive."
"I guess that was what was going on," I admitted in a bit of a mumble. Imrahil gave me a keen-eyed look.
"No guess about it--that was exactly what was going on! Aided and abetted by Elrohir. And it is all right, Hethlin. The only thing I ask you to remember is that while he may not love you as a lover, Faramir does care deeply about you as a friend. Do not hurt him for no good reason."
"I wouldn't do that, sir."
"Not intentionally, I know. As for him," and his brow furrowed thoughtfully for a moment, "he needs to get over that reflex he developed in the Rangers about keeping men away from you. I thought I caught a flash of possessiveness there, and he has no cause to be so where you are concerned. You are neither his kin, nor his betrothed. You have the right to be with whom you will, and to choose what husband you will, by command of the King himself." He looked at me very seriously. "Very few women have the freedom you do, Hethlin--use it well."
"I will try, sir," I replied earnestly. His eyes fixed once more upon the road before us.
"That is all anyone could ask of you," he said.
We made fairly good time in the end, though of course nowhere near what the King and Faramir did. They had probably reached Minas Tirith by the time we stopped for some lunch, thoughtfully packed by the elves. The Prince and I did not arrive at the city gates ourselves until late afternoon. There had not been much conversation between us during the early part of the trip, but when we got onto the Pelennor, there was some talk, mostly about how much the restoration work had advanced in our absence. The King and Faramir had lost no time in trying to erase the ravages of war, and we were most impressed at all that had been accomplished. Arwen and her family would receive a very favorable first impression.
I was rather surprised at the stirring in my heart when I first saw the Tower of Ecthelion gleaming in the sun. I had never liked Minas Tirith when I had had to visit it during the war. Perhaps it was because the city seemed a more welcoming place now that it did not lie under the threat of imminent invasion, or perhaps the work I'd done with Faramir and Lord Hurin had given me a sense of proprietary pride, but I honestly felt for the first time like I was coming home. When we passed through the gate to the salutes of the guard, Imrahil gave me a weary smile, speaking as if he sensed my thought.
"Grows upon you, does it not? Most of the time, I think of it as too far from the sea, an ill-wrought warren of stone with too few gardens. But at times like this, it looks pretty good." He himself was beginning to look pretty grey, and I kept an eye out for him as we slowly ascended the winding road to the upper circles. As we drew near to his townhouse, however, he drew himself up straight in the saddle, and any air of weariness or illness he had suddenly vanished. I was taken anew with what a consummate actor he could be.
There were two Swan Knights on sentry duty at the entrance to the courtyard. One of them saw us riding up the street, and pelted on into the house to give warning of our arrival. By the time we clattered into the courtyard, people were pouring out of the door. Lothiriel reached her father first, cannoning into him when his feet had barely hit the cobbles. He mimed having had the air driven from him, then embraced her with a happy smile.
"Thiri!"
"Father! You're back! We weren't sure when you would get here! Did you have a good time? Did you see the elf-women? How do they dress? Can you describe it to me? My dressmaker is waiting for the details. I have decided that I am going to set a new fashion."
"Well! I suppose somebody must, and it may as well be you," he agreed, kissing her. "Yes, I saw the elf-women, and I will tell you how they dressed later. There might even be a bolt of elven cloth or two with the caravan we returned with, for a certain young lady, and for Mariel." Lothiriel cried out with delight. "There is certainly a rather expensive Rohirric filly with them," and he cast a pointed look at me. I ducked my head as Lothiriel cried out in glee.
"Oh, you went through Edoras? How was Eomer? Did he pick my horse out himself?"
"Yes, on the return trip. Eomer was fine. His sense of humor is as it ever was." I repressed a snicker. "We both picked your horse out, and it is a two-year-old, so that you will have an easier time of it. That was his idea. Do remember to write him a thank-you note." Somehow, I did not think that was going to be a problem.
"For Valar's sake, Thiri, let someone else get a word in!" growled Amrothos, prying his sister off and reaching up and embracing his father in turn, a book with a finger stuck in it to mark the place in one hand. He was the smallest of the three princes by far--I had a couple of inches on him. "Father, do the Lorien elves truly live in trees? Did you stay in a tree house while you were there? How do they get essential goods up and down? I am thinking that they must use something like a dumbwaiter, but larger--perhaps with a system of winches and pulleys to make it manageable." The Prince gave his youngest son a squeeze and answered with utmost seriousness.
"I am afraid that I did not give the movement of essential goods much thought at all, 'Rothos, so unfortunately, I cannot give you an eyewitness report. But yes, I stayed in a tree house. And it looks as if some of the Lorien elves will be visiting here soon, so I will see what I can do about arranging a meeting for you with someone who can answer your questions." Amrothos seemed pleased at that prospect, and released his father so that Erchirion could embrace him in turn. The second-born, rather saturnine sea-lord had no questions at all for the Prince, but embraced him and whispered something quietly to him instead. I saw the Prince's eyebrow shoot up, and a pleased expression came over his face.
"Thank you, lad, that is good news indeed," he murmured, and Erchirion turned him loose just as a shout of "Grandy! Grandy!" split the air, and Elphir and Mariel and little Alphor came up to greet him. Alphor was very excited at the reappearance of his grandfather, and seemed to recollect him quite well.
Deciding that now would be a good time to make for the stables, I slid off of Fortune and headed there, listening to the babble of greeting behind me with a smile. As I entered, a stableman came forward and took Fortune, removing my saddlebags and handing them to me with a smile.
"There you are, my lady! I'll take him from here. You go and get some rest--I imagine it's been quite a trip!"
"That it has," I agreed. "Would you see that he has a mash and a good feed tonight? He deserves it."
"It will be done, my lady. We'll give his feet a going over too." I thanked him, and turned around--to find my way blocked by a very formidable-looking man with badger-striped black hair and piercing dark eyes. He was an inch shorter than I, but my size advantage gave me no feeling of confidence whatsoever. Every sense that I possessed about such things informed me that this was a very dangerous man indeed.
"Lady Hethlin, you are one of the Prince's new esquires, are you not?" he inquired in a deep voice.
"Aye, my lord." He looked me up and down, deliberately assessing. Somehow I knew he was not admiring my appearance.
"I am Master Andrahar, Prince Imrahil's Armsmaster. You will be in my charge when you go to Dol Amroth, and anything I tell you to do you may consider as direct from Illuvatar to me to you--via the Prince, of course. Do you understand this?"
"Aye, my lord." He gave me a falsely affable smile.
"Well then! Having settled that, consider this my first order--you are to tell me what is wrong with the Prince."
"My lord?"
"Do not play the innocent with me, girl! I've known Imrahil since he was a boy, and long before he was married or had children. He has been hurt or sick, and he's hiding it. What happened to him during that journey?" I considered for a moment exactly how I should answer, watching the anger bloom in his dark eyes as I delayed. He was, I deemed, a man who would brook no outright defiance, but neither would he respect anyone who simply backed down from him.
"From Illuvatar to you to me by way of the Prince, you said, my lord?" I inquired at last. His eyes narrowed, and his answer was clipped.
"Yes."
Though it was difficult, I caught the burning dark eyes, and endeavored to hold them with my own. "Then you must apply to the Prince for your answers, my lord, for he has forbidden me to speak of the matter, even to his family." I made as if to move past him, but he moved in turn to block me again.
"The fact that he gave you such an order tells me something about the seriousness of what went on," he said softly. "You may be the King's kinswoman, and the Steward's pet, but do not make the mistake of thinking that either thing gives you any influence with me. We Swan Knights, knight and esquire alike, took the Prince from the Pelennor to the Black Gate and back again, through the worst that Mordor could throw at him, with nary a scratch upon him. You have him in your care for a pleasure jaunt to the Golden Wood, and he is sorely hurt. How is it that you were not harmed instead of him?"
For a moment I thought about telling him about the arrows coming from one direction, and my moving to face them only to have the Prince struck from another. I thought about telling him about how I'd awakened to narrowly miss being shot through the head myself, then scrambled quickly as I could to shield the Prince. I thought about all the perfectly plausible excuses I could give to him, but I knew that they were not what he wanted to hear. So I gave him what he wanted, which was also in some measure the truth.
"He was hurt because I was not fast enough." Master Andrahar stared at me long and hard, then sighed in satisfaction.
"At least you have the mother wit to admit it. I must give some thought to how I will......amend..... this deficiency of yours. Do not become too comfortable in the Citadel among the high and mighty, Hethlin of Anorien. You will be in my charge soon enough." And with that, he turned abruptly and left the stable, leaving my own way out open once. more.
Having been thoroughly put in my place, I sighed, shouldered my saddlebags, and started to trudge towards the Citadel. Crossing the courtyard, I glanced over again at the happy Dol Amroth reunion. The Prince saw me, and waved a smiling farewell. I waved back, then left the courtyard torn between satisfaction at seeing him happily reunited with his family, and the dismay I felt at finding that the man who was going to be responsible for my education for the next two years apparently despised me.
Mulling these things over, I passed through the tunnel into the grounds of the Citadel, past the guards, who did not hinder me, across the great courtyard and into the building itself. The occasional person gave me a curious look, but I did not cause much comment--I seemed merely another dirty, sweaty courier, carrying dispatches. Up and up the stairs I climbed, till I reached the rarefied heights of the royal quarters. Again, I was not challenged, and at last I arrived at the door of the room that I had inhabited so briefly before the trip to Lorien.
I hoped that the Prince was correct, that my things were still there, and that they hadn't been moved to a closet somewhere once I was out of sight and out of mind. I hoped that I wouldn't find that they had in fact been moved to the townhouse after all, and that I would have to return there. And I hoped that the door was unlocked, and that I wouldn't have to stand out in the corridor looking like a fool. In the last thing, at least, I was lucky--I turned the knob, and the large door swung open soundlessly. As I entered, I heard a couple of soft, surprised gasps.
Stepping within, I looked about. The room lay bathed in the afternoon sunlight, much as I remembered it, with one exception. At some point during my absence, it had become infested with hobbits.
"I had originally intended to ride to Minas Tirith myself this night," he admitted to me with a weary smile. "I had hoped that resting all afternoon would give me the strength. But I fear I haven't the stomach for riding another forty miles this night after all."
"You have been riding much longer every day though, my lord," I consoled him. "And you will ride into Minas Tirith tomorrow, as you had wished."
"And sleep in my own bed tomorrow night," he agreed, with a smile. "And you can rest in that lovely room at the Citadel again." At my look of puzzlement, he added--"We never had the chance to move your things to the townhouse." I nodded my comprehension.
"When is the wedding to take place?"
"The day after tomorrow, according to Lord Elrond. Midsummer Day. A most propitious time. As the King's kinswoman, you will of course attend." I hadn't really considered that.
"Will I be attending you, my lord?"
"No, Hethlin, as Aragorn's kinswoman you will be in the King's party." I absorbed that and nodded once more. My brow furrowed as I pondered a possible problem. "Whatever shall I wear?" slipped out before I could help myself. The corner of the Prince's mouth twitched upward.
"Ah yes, the eternal question......Well, if you will accept my poor advice, I would say that the dark red outfit you wore to see me before we left for Lorien is very attractive, as are any of the elven clothes you acquired in Lorien."
"Hmmmm, that gives me...four, no five things to choose from, for I have another very nice outfit you haven't seen yet. I shall be needing a wain myself, if this continues," I informed him with a straight face. To my delight, he threw his head up in a gesture I'd not seen from him in a while, and laughed merrily.
"Fortunately for you, I have the daughter who can tell you just where to get one!" At that moment, Lord Celeborn appeared, and conscripted me for my evening lesson, and I took my leave of him.
Long as the summer days were, the Prince had sent his message while Anor still rode the skies. I had my lesson with Lord Celeborn, demonstrated to Elrohir that my shielding was much better by successfully blocking him out entirely, then ate supper with him as darkness finally fell, listening to Glorfindel tell the Prince about the elven city he'd lived in during the First Age--Gondolin, I think it was called. Truth to tell, the elven cities tended to run together a bit in my mind--they all had long, elegant names, and from what I could tell, they had all come to bad ends and long since been swallowed by the Sea. It was a rather sad reminder of how far the Firstborn had fallen since their heyday.
Elves being elves, other stories and songs followed Glorfindel's. The night was far advanced, and I was just debating whether I wanted to lie by the fire and have a small nap before proceeding to my tent to sleep, or just go there and be done with it, when we heard the sound of hooves approaching. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had departed some time back, to take a walk together, but the rest of us looked up, and I saw the sentries move forward, towards a pair of tall Gondorian couriers like unto the ones the Prince had sent out. The riders we had sent to Minas Tirith and those that had returned had both made good time, I thought, though it was certainly possible to do that if one had several fresh changes of horses.
Haldir the fletcher challenged the riders in Westron, asking their business, but the taller of the two answered him in fluent Elvish, in a voice that brought the entire Peredhil family's heads snapping up in a hurry, and Arwen to her feet in an instant, her face alight. Her reaction told me his identity even before her delighted "Estel!" rang out. He dismounted, and pulled off his helmet, revealing that he was in fact the King, and the next moment he had his arms suddenly full of lovely elf-maiden, and was spinning her around off of her feet.
Most everyone was watching this display, but my attention was suddenly drawn to the other courier, who was removing his helm as well, and looking about at all the elves with a slightly bedazzled expression.
"Faramir!" I exclaimed, equally delighted, and the Prince looked in his direction and smiled broadly.
"Faramir, lad! Who's minding the store?" He laughed, bowed politely to the elves that came to take the two horses away, and strolled over to us.
"Hurin was kind enough to do so, but he was very nervous about the whole business, and I think it will be some time before he forgives us." We stood to greet him, and he embraced his uncle for a moment, then held him at arm's length, studying him, a slight frown upon his face.
"Are you all right, uncle? You do not look well. You've lost some weight, I do believe." Imrahil chuckled.
"That is not necessarily a bad thing at my age, lad! I am fine. I was ill for a little bit while we were in Lorien but I'm better now." He embraced Faramir once more, and when he did, he shot me a warning look over his nephew's shoulder. I gave him a tiny nod. If that was the way he wished to play things, then as my liege lord, I must obey him. He released Faramir, who turned his attention to me, took in my bandaged hand, and the fading bruises on my face, and frowned once more, complete with worry line. Stepping forward, he took me into his arms carefully, and gave me a hug.
"And you, Heth, look at you! What have you been up to?"
"Killing orcs. Many orcs, all by herself, lad," responded the Prince before I could think of what to say, bemused as I was by the close contact. "She--" He broke off suddenly, for something had caught his eye. I looked to where he was looking, as did Faramir, who released me, and found many pairs of eyes fastened intently upon Lord Elrond. He was standing by the fire looking down at Aragorn, who was now kneeling at his feet, with a totally inscrutable expression. There was a long moment when the only sound was the crackling of the campfire, and then Aragorn spoke.
"My lord, I have done as you demanded. I am King of Gondor and Arnor both."
"And I have done as I promised, son of Arathorn," the Lord of Imladris replied. "I have brought to you both the remainder of your legacy, and my daughter to be your bride, and when we arrive in your city of Minas Tirith, I will surrender them to you."
"And will you give me your blessing along with my legacy and your daughter, my lord?" Aragorn asked, bowing his head and speaking so quietly he could barely be heard. "For you are the only father I have ever known, and it was never my wish to cause you grief." There was another long moment of silence. I saw Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel glide quietly up, watched Arwen watch the two people she loved best with her heart in her throat, and caught Elrohir casting a worried glance at me. Then Lord Elrond's slender hand lifted slowly from his side, and drifted down the rough black head in a gentle caress.
"Arise, Estel," he commanded softly. "For of all the things I have demanded of you, I have never asked that you kneel to me."
When Aragorn rose, they stood looking at each other silently for a long time. Lord Elrond's face was no longer emotionless, quite the contrary--regret and sorrow and anger and affection all seemed to flit across it in quick succession, only to be accepted and absorbed by the grey eyes so like his own that were fastened beseechingly upon his face with concern and love. Again, slowly and seemingly almost unwillingly, Lord Elrond's arms rose and embraced his foster-son. When he did so, Aragorn laid his head upon Lord Elrond's shoulder, his arms came up and clasped his foster-father tightly in turn, and Elrond sighed a profound and resigned sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul.
"It is good to see you come into your own at last, my son," he said softly, "for I know that your labors have been long and arduous. And I have feared greatly for you these last few months."
"As I have for you, father," Aragorn said, his voice muffled against Lord Elrond's neck. The Peredhil turned his cheek against Aragorn's hair for a moment, then straightened, and held him at arm's length, regarding him gravely.
"Come, Estel, sit by the fire and tell me of this city of yours, what we should expect, and how we are to do this thing." I saw the tension pour out of the twins and Arwen; indeed, everyone seemed to relax at once. Smiling that beautiful, sweet smile of his, Aragorn gestured towards Faramir.
"T'would be better to leave the telling about the city to one who has lived there his whole life, father. This is my Steward, the Prince of Ithilien, Faramir son of Denethor." Faramir bowed deeply as Lord Elrond turned to him.
"My lord, you need no introduction. I would spend time with Mithrandir when he visited us, and he always had much to say about the wisdom of the Lord of Imladris. When I had the dream about Imladris, I wished to journey seeking it myself, but my father gave the errand to my brother instead, deeming him the hardier, or so he told me at the time." Faramir smiled a gently self-deprecating smile. "I suspect the true reason was that he knew if I ever found your libraries, he would not see me again." Lord Elrond gave Faramir an approving look.
"I have been told that you are a scholar, my lord Steward, as well as a man stalwart in battle. It is a rare combination. You might indeed have appreciated Imladris more than your brother did, but though he was not a scholar, he was a valorous man, and I am glad to have known him."
"Thank you, my lord," was all that Faramir said, but I could tell by his expression that he was both touched and saddened by the mention of Boromir. The exact details of his brother's death were something that even the Rangers had not been privy to, other than that it had been in battle, and had to do with the Ringbearer's quest. I knew that he had regretted not being able to lay Boromir to rest in Rath Dinen, though that might have been for the best, since the Stewards' mausoleum had burned and collapsed. And I had always thought that if Faramir's vision were true, the boat floating down to the Sea was a fitting end for a descendant of the blood of Numenor.
His momentary sorrow, however, was soon replaced by awe and amazement, as the King introduced him to one legendary elf after another. I thought I saw a tiny bit of trepidation on the part of the King, as he introduced his Steward to his Queen. Faramir was a reserved individual, but he tended to form opinions of people quickly, as witnessed by his trust of Frodo and Samwise after brief acquaintance, and his almost instantaneous love for Eowyn. The King's duties would be much harder to bear if his chief advisor and the woman he loved disliked each other. There was no mistaking the relief on Aragorn's face when the two of them took to each other immediately, chatting like old friends.
Everyone resumed their seats about the campfire, including Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. I ended up across the campfire from Faramir and the King and Arwen, at the Prince's side, with Elrohir upon my other side. For a brief time, Faramir explained about the city, and the ceremonies, which had been somewhat planned in advance, the King having apparently let him in on the secret at last. Some modifications to suit the elven guests were discussed. Then the stories began once more, and I watched as delight overcame him, made him expansive and joyous in a way I'd not seen since Eowyn agreed to wed him. He listened to the tales intently, eyes alight, and between stories conversed eagerly and fluently with the elves, speaking with hands as much as mouth, it seemed. His happiness made me smile, and when I looked over at the Prince, he was smiling as well. The King and Arwen also found his enthusiasm amusing, when they were not intent upon each other.
Watching him, it occurred to me of a sudden that there was nothing I could ever do that would make him look at me with that joy, and my weariness came back ten-fold. Feeling my change of mood, Elrohir turned towards me. I felt his mind touch mine briefly, and his lips thinned, though his eyes were gentle.
*Are you tired, Snowsteel?*
*Aye, Elrohir.*
*Well then, let us put you to bed, by all means.* He rose to his feet, leaned over, and with a gentle grip upon my good elbow, helped lever me to mine. "Father, Grandfather, Grandmother, Estel, my lord Prince, my lord Steward," he said aloud. "Snowsteel is still unwell, and she is weary. And tomorrow is a busy day, with a distance to ride. So we wish you a good night." And with no further ado, he took me by the arm and led me off to the tent he shared with his brother. I dared a quick glance over my shoulder to see Lord Elrond and the Prince almost equally expressionless. The King and Faramir both looked very surprised.
*What do you think you are doing?* I sent to him as he walked me there. His reply was matter-of-fact.
*Not what you think. I have no designs upon your person this night. But has it occurred to you that Arwen and Aragorn might wish for some time to themselves? And you share her tent.* That had in fact not occurred to me, but it made a deal of sense. I admitted that to him, though I added--
*Are you absolutely sure that your desire for my company this night has naught to do with your wanting to show up Faramir or your father?* The evil twinkle surfaced suddenly in his eyes.
*Honestly, Snowsteel, you are always so swift to attribute the basest of motives to me! If you think so badly of me, I wonder that you are willing to keep company with me at all!* My mental snort was answered by an actual chuckle as he escorted me into the tent.
Once within, he was all solicitude as he helped me off with my boots, and folded back the blankets for me. He himself stripped of everything but his breeches, then slid in beside me, and took me gently into his arms. I buried my nose in the soft skin of his neck, breathed in the piney scent of his hair, and yawned.
*If I could convince Father to help you, would you yet seek to win Faramir for yourself, Snowsteel?* his mental voice asked very quietly.
I slid my fingers into his hair, and began to comb through it carefully. I loved the way it felt as it slipped silkily across my fingertips, and he seemed to enjoy that particular caress a great deal.
*Nay, Elrohir, for he truly loves Eowyn, and would think it a betrayal. Or pity me. In any event, I would lose even his friendship, and I do not want to do that.*
*Then you must accept that he will never be yours.*
*I know that, oh wise and ancient one,* I agreed, snuggling even closer. *But it has been a very little time, even as mortals reckon it, since I learned that he would never be mine, and it still comes hard at times.*
He sighed. *Indeed. Would you like me to help you to sleep?*
*Nay. I am weary enough to do it on my own.* Another yawn corroborated my statement. *But I would like you to sing to me.*
*You wish me to sing for you?* His mental voice was very surprised.
*Aye. You keep saying you do not have a nice voice as your people reckon it, but I'm just a silly mortal, and I think it is beautiful.* Pleasure surged through our link, and I smiled. Needing no further persuasion, he began at once to sing softly to me in Sindarin, a song of the seasons and the plants and the trees, a summer-song. If it changed to anything else after that, I was not aware, for I was fast asleep.
I awoke very early the next morning, I knew not why, for I had been very weary the night before. Though I did not recollect any particular dreams, I felt reasonably rested, with none of the disquiet that comes from bad dreams one does not remember. Looking to either side of me, I found the twins, their silver eyes staring peacefully upward. I got up carefully as I could, but their elven senses thwarted me and I woke them both anyway.
"Snowsteel?" inquired Elrohir sleepily.
"Go back to sleep, Elrohir--it's not dawn yet. I just can't sleep anymore." He nodded, and snuggled back down. Elladan mumbled something incoherent, and moved into the warm place in the blankets I'd just vacated, closer to his brother. The twins really were quite sweet when semi-conscious, I noted again, remembering the night not long ago when Elladan and I had comforted Elrohir.
Pulling my boots on, I stepped outside, finding that several of the servitor elves were already awake, grooming horses, building the fires up and beginning breakfast. Besides myself, there was only one other person awake--a tall figure who stood upon the opposite side of the firepit, clad not in robes, but shirt and breeches and boots, his black hair unfilleted and falling loose about his shoulders. I saw him, and froze, and a wintry smile played about his lips.
"Ah, Lady Hethlin," said Lord Elrond. "How fortuitous. Would you be so kind as to take a walk with me?"
I could hardly refuse him. "Aye, my lord," I said, and fell in beside him as he walked away from the camp.
"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked in a perfectly civil tone. "Were you in discomfort? Was that why you are awake so early?"
"Nay, Lord Elrond, I am feeling very much better--thanks to you. I simply could not sleep for some reason."
"Nor could I." There was a long silence as we paced over the dewy grass. Then he spoke again. "Your liege lord tells me that you are barren, due to orcs assaulting you some years ago. Is that true?" Surprised, I shot him a startled look.
"Aye, my lord. After Lord Faramir found me, I was ill for weeks. I had several fevers. I was too ill to be moved, in fact--the Rangers were sure I would die. When the healers in Minas Tirith finally got a chance to look at me, they said I would never bear children because of the fevers, and because the orcs had......damaged me inside."
"And outside too, it seems--I have seen the scars. How long did the orcs hold you?"
"A week, I think. It took them three days to get back to the Anduin once they decided to leave, but they scouted around a bit first."
"And they used you often during that time?"
Despite my desire not to antagonize him any more than was necessary, my voice grew very dry. "I wasn't exactly keeping count. Everyday, though, and most of the troop."
"I apologize. It is necessary that I know what was done to you." At my quizzical look, he added, "You have quite the advocate in your liege lord, you know."
"The Prince is the very best of men," I agreed. Lord Elrond's mouth twisted in an ironic smile.
"He is certainly among the very boldest of men! Few there are who would have the courage to chide the Lord of Imladris for what they felt was a lapse of duty, but he has done so. And upon reflection, I must admit his arguments have some merit. Therefore, after the wedding, and while I am still in Minas Tirith, I will endeavor to heal your condition, if it is possible and if you wish me to try." My amazement seemed to amuse him. "I am not quite the troll you think I am, Lady Hethlin." I blushed, and was grateful that the gradually lightening darkness would still hide it.
"I am sorry, my lord." Lord Elrond shrugged.
"Do not be. I have not been particularly kind to you. And in truth, I still do not like you. I think that this.....relationship.... you have with my son is ill-considered, and likely to doom you both to a great deal of heartache. But I am a healer, and where there is a need, I am compelled to meet it. There are things you need to know, however, before you agree."
"Such as, my lord?"
"Such as that I might not be able to help you at all. I will not know until I give you a thorough examination. And it might be that I would discover I could only help you partially--for instance, you might be able to conceive, but not bear a child without danger. In that case, I would not enable you to conceive, for despite what you may think, I do not wish to emperil your life." I nodded my understanding. "Also, depending upon what I have to do, you could be confined to a bed for a week or more when I am done. And you might be quite uncomfortable afterwards for a bit. Is this an acceptable consequence?"
"A week or more of discomfort, so that I might have children? A more than acceptable consequence, my lord!" A ghost of a smile graced his lips at my vehemence.
"Strange--I had not thought you the motherly sort, lady." My turn to shrug.
"Perhaps I am not. Though I had a little brother and sister, and I never minded caring for them."
"They perished with the rest of your family, did they not?"
"Aye. The orcs roasted them alive while I watched." That halted him in his tracks for a moment, which surprised me, for I would have thought that he must have become quite inured to the horrible things that could happen to the innocent in war, given his age and experience.
"Valar! I am sorry, Lady Hethlin," and he did sound genuinely remorseful. "I see now why you are a Ranger. And why the orcs at Min-rimmon were in serious trouble."
"It's not quite like that," I explained as we started walking again. "Though that was certainly the reason at first. It's like I told Talith--part of it is simply because it is what I was trained to do, and I am good at it. I'm definitely no good at womanly things--ask Faramir!" Was that a tiny chuckle from the frosty elf-lord? I wasn't sure. "For the first couple of years I was in Ithilien, I did kill things, especially orcs, with the idea that it was vengeance for my family. But no matter how many I killed, they didn't come back, and I didn't feel any better. What did make me feel better in the end, was when I killed the orcs with the idea that at least I was keeping them from doing to anyone else what they'd done to me and mine. That was what truly helped."
"Then you learned a valuable lesson far more swiftly than did my sons," Lord Elrond commented dryly, "Since for five hundred years they have been avenging their mother."
"Elrohir spoke of her to me once. I gather he loves her very much."
"Her departure devastated us all, but him it hurt the worst, I think," he said; then, after a sidelong look at me, added, "You will have noticed that he feels a bit.....inadequate...about his gifts."
"Aye. The first time we were together it was in part, at least, because he wanted to help me. To be a healer for just one night, he said." Lord Elrond actually winced.
"Arwen and Elladan both possess the capability to be gifted healers--but it is not a gift Elrohir received, except in its most basic form. He has the idea he is useful as nothing but a warrior, and though he is very close to Elladan, I think he sometimes feels that the three of us share a bond which excludes him. Consequently, he drew closer to his mother, who was also not a healer--and was also the less-gifted daughter of a very formidable mother."
Frowning slightly, I considered what Elrohir's father had said. "I told him I thought he was drawn to me because what happened to me reminded him of his mother, and he thought he could help me where he couldn't help her." The Lord of Imladris nodded thoughtfully.
"That may be in fact how it began, but I suspect there is more to it by now." I puzzled for a moment over what he meant by that. Surely he wasn't saying he thought Elrohir was in love with me? A bit shaken, I hastened to protest.
"My lord, as I told you before--he promised me before we ever became involved that he would not fall in love with me and give up his immortality!" Lord Elrond gave me a sorrowful smile.
"And that, Lady Hethlin, is every bit as foolish an oath as the one I made him swear to me! I fear that he will be forsworn to one or both of us before this is done, if he is not so already." He sighed, then turned, and began retracing the path we'd come. "But whether he is or no--I will help you if I can, once we are in the White City. For, among the other reasons that have been given me, if he ever did cleave unto you, I would not wish to deprive him of children. Come, let us return to the camp--breakfast will be ready ere long."
When we returned, I parted company with Lord Elrond, who had no desire to breakfast with me, much to my relief. I was already halfway through a pile of those lacy pancakes at the campfire nearest my tent when I was joined by the King and Faramir. I started to rise, but the King forestalled me with a shake of his head and a smile. Faramir, though tousled and with the look of a man who had had little sleep, also seemed quite happy. The Prince came blearily out of his tent shortly after that, took one look at us, declared that we were all entirely too cheerful, and sat down a short way away to sip a mug of hot tea broodingly while we talked. There were times, I had noticed, when the Prince and Morning were not on speaking terms.
"We heard quite the tale last night after you were abed, Hethlin," declared the King, folding one of the lacy pancakes into a neat package with his fingers, and inhaling it in two bites. "Glorfindel, Elladan and Imrahil told us of your single-handed attack upon the inn. An amazing accomplishment."
"Thank you, sir," I responded, working swiftly to finish devouring my own pile of pancakes. "But it was not so extraordinary a thing as you might think. Most of them were drunk and half asleep."
"That is not what Glorfindel told us, Heth," said Faramir, folding one of his pancakes as had the King, though he nibbled the edge of his experimentally first before starting in on it in surprised approval. The King looked over at him and grinned.
"Good, are they not?" He promptly folded and devoured another one. I noticed he'd put a dollop of berry jam in the center before he folded them and wondered suddenly if I were eating them the wrong way. "I have tried and tried, but the Elves will NOT give me the recipe," Aragorn complained. Faramir finished his quickly, and picked up another one.
"That is unfortunate--these are marvelous! Perhaps your Queen knows how to make them?" The King seemed much taken by that possibility.
"There is a thought.....providing she does not require some special ingredients....I could have them every morning for the rest of my life." I looked up as a hand brushed my shoulder gently in greeting. Arwen had joined the circle, still clad in her nightrail and robe, her hair tumbling loose down her back.
"You are assuming, my love," she chided Aragorn with a smile, "that I wish to cook leafcakes every morning for the rest of my life!" The King held a hand up to her, and drew her down into the circle of his arm. He then gave her an imploring look, which, while not quite as pathetic as Elrohir's puppy-dog-eyes, was nonetheless very effective in its own, roughhewn, noble way. Arwen, however, was unmoved.
"I could perhaps be persuaded to cook leafcakes from time to time," she murmured thoughtfully. "Perhaps the morning after every day my husband did without that noxious pipeweed of his." Aragorn groaned, and the Prince laughed and came over, having apparently finally drunk enough tea to become awake and sociable.
"It begins already, Aragorn--the civilization process! And you not even wed yet!"
"You do not need her to cook leafcakes, Estel--you need her to negotiate your treaties!" said yet another new voice, and I smiled as Elrohir, clad in naught but his breeches and a blanket from his bedroll, settled himself beside me. His blanket-clad arm wrapped around me, and I placed a spoonful of jam in one of the leafcakes, folded it, and held it up to his mouth. An amused gleam in his eye, he devoured it in four dainty bites, then kissed my fingertips. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Faramir's eyebrow shoot up. A wicked impulse seized me, and I traced the line of Elrohir's ear with those same fingertips.
"Good morning," I said softly as a shudder ran through him. Eyes hooded of a sudden, he turned his head and kissed the top of mine.
"It is getting better all the time," he remarked. Faramir's other eyebrow joined its companion. The King chuckled.
"It is good to see that you and my foster-brother have resolved your differences, Hethlin," he said, grinning. "When did this occur?"
"In Lorien, my lord, " I replied with as much dignity as I could muster as Elrohir breathed deliberately into my neck. "Upon Cerin Amroth. It is a very beautiful place." Aragorn gave his bride a knowing smile.
"Indeed. I have found it to be so as well." Arwen bestowed upon him one of her melting glances, their heads bent close together, and there was some quiet whispering for a moment. Faramir stared at me and the elf-lord in disbelief, and Elrohir flashed him a beatific smile. Then the Prince got up to go get some food, and Elrohir's free hand tossed something silver across the fire to the King, who, despite his preoccupation, snatched it out of the air with the reflexes of a peerless warrior.
"It is more than time for you to give Hethlin that, Estel, don't you think? And if you do not believe me, then surely you can believe Elladan, and the Prince, and Glorfindel." What the King held in his hand was my father's Dunedan star, and annoyance that Elrohir was being high-handed again warred with curiosity over what Aragorn would say next.
His big thumb rubbed thoughtfully across the roughened, bent place on the star as he stared at it in bemusement.
"Valar, Hethlin, it is long indeed since I last saw this! How long have you been carrying it? And however did you keep it from the orcs?"
"I have not had it long at all, my lord. Elrohir was kind enough to accompany me back to my home while we were on our way to Lorien. I wished to be certain that my family had been properly buried. We found it there in the yard when we were preparing to leave."
"That must have been a difficult journey," he commented sympathetically, holding the star up to examine it further. "Though this was a happy chance. Did you find everything to your satisfaction?"
"Aye, my lord." I turned to Faramir. "I wanted to make sure that Mablung had the right homestead, Faramir--there was more than one in the area. But he'd done just as I would have wanted, picked out the loveliest place for them." Faramir nodded.
"I am glad to hear that, Heth." He had mastered his astonishment, and assumed the somewhat guarded expression he used when he was waiting for others to reveal their motives. "It was kind of you to escort her, Prince Elrohir." Elrohir beamed, an absolutely outrageous smile.
"It was my very great pleasure, son of Denethor." I gave him a swift elbow to the ribs, he oofed, and the King and his sister laughed. Faramir did not.
"Hethlin, I quite agree you are worthy to wear this," the King continued when he'd stopped laughing. "In fact, you'd done more than enough to earn it before this last trip. But I do not wish to bestow it upon you now, so informally. I have a time and place in mind that will be more appropriate. Will you allow me to hold this for a time?" Though disappointed, there was little I could do but nod, and trust that my sovereign had my best interests in mind. Aragorn turned his head, bestowed a kiss upon Arwen, then rose and gestured to Faramir. "We had best be on our way, lord Steward--Hurin will have both our heads if we're not back by noon."
Faramir got up, rubbing his rump with a rueful smile. "It has been a while since I rode so far or fast, my lord. Are we taking the courier horses back again?" The King gave him an evil grin.
"Oh yes. We can't have you getting soft now, can we? Not my right-hand man!" The Prince of Ithilien groaned.
"And to think I believed the job of a Steward who actually had a King would consist of boring paperwork, leisurely lunches, and plenty of time to write poetry!" Aragorn slapped him on the back bracingly.
"Well now you know the terrible truth! Let us be off! Imrahil, Elrohir, Hethlin--a good day to you. Arwen, love--you will be there by dusk, will you not?"
"Yes, Estel, by nightfall. Fare you well."
"And you as well, my love." They departed, and the Prince, who had returned to work upon his own pile of leafcakes, grimaced.
"We should pack up in a few minutes as well, Hethlin. I would like to arrive there somewhat in advance of the caravan." I disentangled myself from Elrohir's blanket and arm with a smile, and the Prince addressed him. "Can you bring the fillies with the rest of the caravan, Lord Elrohir? I fear we will be riding too swiftly for them to keep the pace."
Elrohir inclined his head graciously. "Of course we will, Prince Imrahil. It will be no trouble at all." I gave his shoulder a last, fond squeeze, and got to my feet.
"You finish your breakfast, my lord prince," I said to my liege lord, "I'll start seeing to our things." Imrahil nodded his thanks.
"I will be along in a few minutes, Hethlin. Be careful of your hand. I think between the two of us, we may possibly add up to one whole and healthy person."
An hour later, despite our infirmities and having said our farewells, we were on the road, Caerith and Fortune trotting easily in the still-cool morning air. Faramir and the King had long since departed at the gallop, but they were going to change horses, and we had to make ours last. The Prince was silent for a time after we started, and I did not try to talk to him, figuring that perhaps morning malaise still lay heavily upon him. I was a bit worried about his ability to make an all-day ride, but knew him to be a sensible man, not prone to foolish displays, and figured that if he felt he could make the trip, then he probably could. Lord Elrond certainly seemed to trust his judgment in matters of his own health.
When Amon Din was well behind us, and the Grey Wood upon our right, he finally spoke.
"Some of us were having a great deal of fun this morning, were we not?" I thought for a moment, realized he was speaking of my behavior with Elrohir, and gave him a shame-faced glance.
"I am sorry, my lord. I suppose that was not very knightly." The Prince laughed.
"No, it was not very knightly, but it was very, very understandable! You love Faramir, but he has spurned your love and hurt you. It is only natural that you should want him to see that even though he has refused you, another very handsome man....or elf.... finds you attractive."
"I guess that was what was going on," I admitted in a bit of a mumble. Imrahil gave me a keen-eyed look.
"No guess about it--that was exactly what was going on! Aided and abetted by Elrohir. And it is all right, Hethlin. The only thing I ask you to remember is that while he may not love you as a lover, Faramir does care deeply about you as a friend. Do not hurt him for no good reason."
"I wouldn't do that, sir."
"Not intentionally, I know. As for him," and his brow furrowed thoughtfully for a moment, "he needs to get over that reflex he developed in the Rangers about keeping men away from you. I thought I caught a flash of possessiveness there, and he has no cause to be so where you are concerned. You are neither his kin, nor his betrothed. You have the right to be with whom you will, and to choose what husband you will, by command of the King himself." He looked at me very seriously. "Very few women have the freedom you do, Hethlin--use it well."
"I will try, sir," I replied earnestly. His eyes fixed once more upon the road before us.
"That is all anyone could ask of you," he said.
We made fairly good time in the end, though of course nowhere near what the King and Faramir did. They had probably reached Minas Tirith by the time we stopped for some lunch, thoughtfully packed by the elves. The Prince and I did not arrive at the city gates ourselves until late afternoon. There had not been much conversation between us during the early part of the trip, but when we got onto the Pelennor, there was some talk, mostly about how much the restoration work had advanced in our absence. The King and Faramir had lost no time in trying to erase the ravages of war, and we were most impressed at all that had been accomplished. Arwen and her family would receive a very favorable first impression.
I was rather surprised at the stirring in my heart when I first saw the Tower of Ecthelion gleaming in the sun. I had never liked Minas Tirith when I had had to visit it during the war. Perhaps it was because the city seemed a more welcoming place now that it did not lie under the threat of imminent invasion, or perhaps the work I'd done with Faramir and Lord Hurin had given me a sense of proprietary pride, but I honestly felt for the first time like I was coming home. When we passed through the gate to the salutes of the guard, Imrahil gave me a weary smile, speaking as if he sensed my thought.
"Grows upon you, does it not? Most of the time, I think of it as too far from the sea, an ill-wrought warren of stone with too few gardens. But at times like this, it looks pretty good." He himself was beginning to look pretty grey, and I kept an eye out for him as we slowly ascended the winding road to the upper circles. As we drew near to his townhouse, however, he drew himself up straight in the saddle, and any air of weariness or illness he had suddenly vanished. I was taken anew with what a consummate actor he could be.
There were two Swan Knights on sentry duty at the entrance to the courtyard. One of them saw us riding up the street, and pelted on into the house to give warning of our arrival. By the time we clattered into the courtyard, people were pouring out of the door. Lothiriel reached her father first, cannoning into him when his feet had barely hit the cobbles. He mimed having had the air driven from him, then embraced her with a happy smile.
"Thiri!"
"Father! You're back! We weren't sure when you would get here! Did you have a good time? Did you see the elf-women? How do they dress? Can you describe it to me? My dressmaker is waiting for the details. I have decided that I am going to set a new fashion."
"Well! I suppose somebody must, and it may as well be you," he agreed, kissing her. "Yes, I saw the elf-women, and I will tell you how they dressed later. There might even be a bolt of elven cloth or two with the caravan we returned with, for a certain young lady, and for Mariel." Lothiriel cried out with delight. "There is certainly a rather expensive Rohirric filly with them," and he cast a pointed look at me. I ducked my head as Lothiriel cried out in glee.
"Oh, you went through Edoras? How was Eomer? Did he pick my horse out himself?"
"Yes, on the return trip. Eomer was fine. His sense of humor is as it ever was." I repressed a snicker. "We both picked your horse out, and it is a two-year-old, so that you will have an easier time of it. That was his idea. Do remember to write him a thank-you note." Somehow, I did not think that was going to be a problem.
"For Valar's sake, Thiri, let someone else get a word in!" growled Amrothos, prying his sister off and reaching up and embracing his father in turn, a book with a finger stuck in it to mark the place in one hand. He was the smallest of the three princes by far--I had a couple of inches on him. "Father, do the Lorien elves truly live in trees? Did you stay in a tree house while you were there? How do they get essential goods up and down? I am thinking that they must use something like a dumbwaiter, but larger--perhaps with a system of winches and pulleys to make it manageable." The Prince gave his youngest son a squeeze and answered with utmost seriousness.
"I am afraid that I did not give the movement of essential goods much thought at all, 'Rothos, so unfortunately, I cannot give you an eyewitness report. But yes, I stayed in a tree house. And it looks as if some of the Lorien elves will be visiting here soon, so I will see what I can do about arranging a meeting for you with someone who can answer your questions." Amrothos seemed pleased at that prospect, and released his father so that Erchirion could embrace him in turn. The second-born, rather saturnine sea-lord had no questions at all for the Prince, but embraced him and whispered something quietly to him instead. I saw the Prince's eyebrow shoot up, and a pleased expression came over his face.
"Thank you, lad, that is good news indeed," he murmured, and Erchirion turned him loose just as a shout of "Grandy! Grandy!" split the air, and Elphir and Mariel and little Alphor came up to greet him. Alphor was very excited at the reappearance of his grandfather, and seemed to recollect him quite well.
Deciding that now would be a good time to make for the stables, I slid off of Fortune and headed there, listening to the babble of greeting behind me with a smile. As I entered, a stableman came forward and took Fortune, removing my saddlebags and handing them to me with a smile.
"There you are, my lady! I'll take him from here. You go and get some rest--I imagine it's been quite a trip!"
"That it has," I agreed. "Would you see that he has a mash and a good feed tonight? He deserves it."
"It will be done, my lady. We'll give his feet a going over too." I thanked him, and turned around--to find my way blocked by a very formidable-looking man with badger-striped black hair and piercing dark eyes. He was an inch shorter than I, but my size advantage gave me no feeling of confidence whatsoever. Every sense that I possessed about such things informed me that this was a very dangerous man indeed.
"Lady Hethlin, you are one of the Prince's new esquires, are you not?" he inquired in a deep voice.
"Aye, my lord." He looked me up and down, deliberately assessing. Somehow I knew he was not admiring my appearance.
"I am Master Andrahar, Prince Imrahil's Armsmaster. You will be in my charge when you go to Dol Amroth, and anything I tell you to do you may consider as direct from Illuvatar to me to you--via the Prince, of course. Do you understand this?"
"Aye, my lord." He gave me a falsely affable smile.
"Well then! Having settled that, consider this my first order--you are to tell me what is wrong with the Prince."
"My lord?"
"Do not play the innocent with me, girl! I've known Imrahil since he was a boy, and long before he was married or had children. He has been hurt or sick, and he's hiding it. What happened to him during that journey?" I considered for a moment exactly how I should answer, watching the anger bloom in his dark eyes as I delayed. He was, I deemed, a man who would brook no outright defiance, but neither would he respect anyone who simply backed down from him.
"From Illuvatar to you to me by way of the Prince, you said, my lord?" I inquired at last. His eyes narrowed, and his answer was clipped.
"Yes."
Though it was difficult, I caught the burning dark eyes, and endeavored to hold them with my own. "Then you must apply to the Prince for your answers, my lord, for he has forbidden me to speak of the matter, even to his family." I made as if to move past him, but he moved in turn to block me again.
"The fact that he gave you such an order tells me something about the seriousness of what went on," he said softly. "You may be the King's kinswoman, and the Steward's pet, but do not make the mistake of thinking that either thing gives you any influence with me. We Swan Knights, knight and esquire alike, took the Prince from the Pelennor to the Black Gate and back again, through the worst that Mordor could throw at him, with nary a scratch upon him. You have him in your care for a pleasure jaunt to the Golden Wood, and he is sorely hurt. How is it that you were not harmed instead of him?"
For a moment I thought about telling him about the arrows coming from one direction, and my moving to face them only to have the Prince struck from another. I thought about telling him about how I'd awakened to narrowly miss being shot through the head myself, then scrambled quickly as I could to shield the Prince. I thought about all the perfectly plausible excuses I could give to him, but I knew that they were not what he wanted to hear. So I gave him what he wanted, which was also in some measure the truth.
"He was hurt because I was not fast enough." Master Andrahar stared at me long and hard, then sighed in satisfaction.
"At least you have the mother wit to admit it. I must give some thought to how I will......amend..... this deficiency of yours. Do not become too comfortable in the Citadel among the high and mighty, Hethlin of Anorien. You will be in my charge soon enough." And with that, he turned abruptly and left the stable, leaving my own way out open once. more.
Having been thoroughly put in my place, I sighed, shouldered my saddlebags, and started to trudge towards the Citadel. Crossing the courtyard, I glanced over again at the happy Dol Amroth reunion. The Prince saw me, and waved a smiling farewell. I waved back, then left the courtyard torn between satisfaction at seeing him happily reunited with his family, and the dismay I felt at finding that the man who was going to be responsible for my education for the next two years apparently despised me.
Mulling these things over, I passed through the tunnel into the grounds of the Citadel, past the guards, who did not hinder me, across the great courtyard and into the building itself. The occasional person gave me a curious look, but I did not cause much comment--I seemed merely another dirty, sweaty courier, carrying dispatches. Up and up the stairs I climbed, till I reached the rarefied heights of the royal quarters. Again, I was not challenged, and at last I arrived at the door of the room that I had inhabited so briefly before the trip to Lorien.
I hoped that the Prince was correct, that my things were still there, and that they hadn't been moved to a closet somewhere once I was out of sight and out of mind. I hoped that I wouldn't find that they had in fact been moved to the townhouse after all, and that I would have to return there. And I hoped that the door was unlocked, and that I wouldn't have to stand out in the corridor looking like a fool. In the last thing, at least, I was lucky--I turned the knob, and the large door swung open soundlessly. As I entered, I heard a couple of soft, surprised gasps.
Stepping within, I looked about. The room lay bathed in the afternoon sunlight, much as I remembered it, with one exception. At some point during my absence, it had become infested with hobbits.