Author's Note: This chapter was a long time in development, and took a lot of hand-holding. Many thanks to Altariel, Sailing to Byzantium, and Elizabeth Wyeth for infinite patience and suggestions.
The next morning, I woke and went in search of my back pay, for the oranges had exhausted the small fund of ready money I had. I went to the Steward's office, expecting to speak to his secretary about the matter, but much to my surprise, Faramir himself was there.
"Good morning, Heth!" he said, pleased to see me.
"Aren't you in Ithilien?" I asked him with a smile. He returned it happily enough.
"I was, and I conferred with my surveyors. Then we met up with one of Damrod's patrols. They were tracking a possible orc incursion. The Elves decided to sally forth along with them on foot, and I had things to do here, so I brought their horses back with my guard, and left them at the courier post closest to the River."
"You didn't want to go with them?" He shook his head.
"That is Damrod's job now, and he's welcome to it." I blinked, rather surprised he could casually dismiss the captaincy he'd held for so long and done so well. Though he had told me once upon a time that he would gladly lay down his sword the earliest moment he could, the reality disconcerted me a bit. Faramir continued, his tone distinctly dry of a sudden. "And besides, your friend Elrohir wears on me after a while."
"Oh dear, was he very difficult?"
"No more than usual."
"That bad?"
"Oh yes."
"I am sorry."
"Nothing you should be sorry for, Heth." His slender fingers were flicking through a rather sizable pile of papers upon his desk, and from time to time he would select one and sign it, stamp it with the Steward's seal he kept upon his desk, and put it in another pile. "Why don't you sit here and keep me company for a bit? I'll send for tea, and you can tell me about Lorien. This is all routine, and I can sign papers and listen to you as well. The way things are going, it may be the only chance the two of us get to talk before the wedding."
"I would like that," I replied, and he rang a bell for a servant, requesting tea, and after a grin at me, some honey cakes. I glowered, and he laughed.
"Now don't frown! You must admit, you have a weakness where sweets are concerned! My brother got to the point where he had his man standing over his supplies with sword practically drawn when he visited, for he knew that if there were honey cakes in his pack, then Mablung would be stealing some for you!"
"Well, after Mablung had gone to all that trouble for me, I could hardly refuse them, could I?" I retorted with mock indignation, and he laughed. He was certainly in a good mood, and it lifted my heart to see it, as well as to see him refer to his brother in a casual but loving way that indicated he was coming to terms with his loss.
"So kind of you to be so considerate of Mablung's feelings! Not that your sweet tooth seems to have done you any harm," he commented. "You're looking very well. How are you feeling?"
I ducked my head a bit at the compliment. He could still make me feel fluttery inside, and it took a moment to suppress it. "Better now. Still a bit tired every now and then. I don't have all my strength back, but Lord Elrond said it might take a week or more to feel myself again."
"Was he able to help you?" The question was very quiet, and a bit hesitant, as if he were reluctant to pry into my personal business. I smiled.
"He said that he was successful, and that I should be able to bear children now, though in truth, I don't feel any different." Faramir smiled back at me then, the smile that was more subdued than his uncle's but which engaged both eyes and mouth in much the same way.
"That is very good news, Heth! I am glad for you."
"As am I! Perhaps one day I will be able to marry after all. For a long time, I believed I never would." He considered this in silence for a moment, as he signed and stamped yet another paper.
"And have you any candidates for husband in mind?" he asked at last, with more of that hesitance.
"Besides yourself, you mean?" I inquired archly. He actually grinned again at that, and waggled a warning finger at me. I laughed. "Nay, no one in mind at present!"
"From the way Lord Elrohir was speaking in Ithilien, I thought that you and he might be thinking of marriage."
The look I gave him then mingled horror and trepidation. "WHAT did he say to you?" Faramir shrugged.
"He was not indiscreet. There was no bragging within earshot of the others, nothing like that. " I considered that Faramir might be unaware of how truly keen Elven hearing could be. It was not a reassuring thought, that Lord Glorfindel or Prince Legolas might know the details of my romantic life. "But he did make the time to tell me privately that you had been with him since Lothlorien. Which was hardly a surprise, given how the two of you were acting at Amon Din." It was not a reproof, and his voice was quite mild, but I felt myself flushing with unjustified embarrassment nonetheless. "Hethlin, it is not my place to intrude into your personal business, but is involving yourself with Lord Elrohir wise?"
My turn to shrug. "I have it on good authority that it is unwise. But he is my friend, and he taught me how to accept a man's touch, and he will not give me a child, even now, for the Elder Kindred do not conceive save within a marriage. We are harming no one, so I do not see that it is anyone's concern but ours. And just so you know, I have already had this talk with Mablung."
He nodded, and took up another document. "That does not surprise me--Mablung looks upon you as a sister, or daughter. Does my uncle know about your....arrangement?"
"He could hardly be unaware of it, could he? Elrohir and I talked to him about it." That confounded him for some reason, I could tell. He set the paper down slowly.
"You did? What did he say?"
"He said that as far as he was concerned, I was as any other of his men, and subject to the same rules. So long as our arrangement, as you put it, did not interfere with my training, he would not forbid it. He sees it as no different than one of his other esquires having a lass for a sweetheart."
"How very.....understanding of him."
"He is a very understanding man, and a good man to serve."
"But have you no thought for your reputation, Heth?"
"As I told Mablung, no one will believe that I am chaste no matter what I do--I discovered that during the King's wedding. And your uncle says that so long as he, the King and Queen and you approve of me, then nothing else matters." I gave him an inquiring look. "Are you saying then that you do not approve?"
He looked uncomfortable. "I am concerned for you, that you do not suffer censure at court." I snorted.
"I care naught about how I am regarded at court."
At that moment, a servant walked in with a tea tray upon which was a plate piled high with honey cakes. Faramir laid his papers aside, looking grateful for the interruption, and used it as a opportunity to change the subject.
"You have yet to tell me anything about Lorien."
"Surely, with all the time you've spent around the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, and the Queen and her brothers, you don't need the likes of me to describe Lorien!"
"I would know how you found it."
So as we sipped and chewed companionably, I told him about the flets, the mallorns, the lanterns, the elves, and anything else I could think of without directly referring to his uncle's indisposition. From the occasional raised eyebrow, I knew he had an idea that I was omitting things, but he was polite, and did not press the matter. He did seem most interested in my observations about the Elves, and talked a little in turn about Lord Legolas' intention to move south into Ithilien with some of his kindred.
"That is wonderful, Faramir! Elves within sight of Minas Tirith! I can see why they would like Ithilien." Perhaps, I thought hopefully, the King was wrong, and the Elves would stay upon Middle-earth for some time to come.
"Legolas says that they can help heal the damages the orcs have left. I am looking forward to having them as neighbors."
"Not to mention Mablung. His land is fairly close by, is it not?"
"Yes, close by the river. Right next to yours. Which you haven't even had a chance to see yet."
"I know. And the way things are going, I don't know when I'll get the chance. Are Mablung and Delyth going to go ahead and build a house and set up their farmstead right away?"
Faramir's expression became slightly smug. "Well, someone is going to build them a house." I looked at him and whistled in admiration.
"That is a princely gift indeed!"
"In a lot of ways, Heth, I owe Mablung even more than you do. What are you going to get them--if you don't mind my asking?"
"I don't know! I've been puzzling over that very thing for days now!" He reached into his middle desk drawer, and pulled out a small suede bag that chinked as it moved. It was heavy and lay pleasantly in my hand after he deposited it there.
"Your back pay. Perhaps that will help." A slightly devilish gleam came into his eye. "You know, you could always ask Cousin Thiri to advise you. She loves to shop."
I groaned. "Somehow, I don't think she understands how to shop for farmers! Can you see Delyth hoeing vegetables in a brocade gown?" He snorted, amused. "In truth, I do have an idea about what to get, I just don't know how to go about it."
"And what would that be?"
"If I were starting a new farm, I would want a good milk cow. But I don't know where to find one, and how or where I would keep it while Mablung was getting his farm built. And I couldn't take it to the wedding with a bow around its neck--it would probably try to eat the White Tree or something." I glanced at Faramir, to see if he were going to laugh at me, but he just looked thoughtful.
"You know, you might want to talk to Lorend about that. His mother keeps cows, and makes cheeses."
"Does she? I thought his people were merchants."
"His father is. His mother is a cheesemaker. Do you remember those really nice cheeses he always brought us for Yule? His mother makes those."
"He brought a cheese with him to dinner last night as well. It was very good--Delyth's parents liked it."
"Ah yes, the dinner. How did that go?" His voice was the tiniest bit wistful, I thought.
"It was a very nice evening, and Mablung should have invited you! Of all the people to leave out....." I was rather indignant on his behalf, but he merely cradled his teacup in his hands, and stared thoughtfully down into it.
"Of course he invited me, Heth. I declined."
"But why?"
"Because, while Mablung's Captain would have been a welcome guest, having the Steward of Gondor show up to dine in their house would have probably scared those poor people half to death! What to feed him? Is it good enough? Quick, give him the best chair! Be careful what you say, you don't want to offend him! The evening would have become all about me, and that was not what I wanted for him."
"I don't know about that--they seemed pretty stout-hearted to me. They do a lot of work for your uncle, and I imagine they could have handled it if he showed up for dinner."
Faramir made a face. "Yes, but that's Uncle--he changes his plumage to fit the circumstances in a heartbeat, and moves up and down the social ladder with perfect ease. You do too, for that matter, and I don't think you even know you're doing it. I am not so easy with people."
My jaw dropped. "Faramir, whatever are you talking about? All of your men love you, as you well know!"
"Yes, but the Rangers were not so enthused about me in the beginning! They thought I was an insufferable, stuck-up brat, in fact! It took years to build that relationship, Heth."
"That is as may be, but I think you underestimate your ability to inspire affection. The people of the City love you as well. I hear it said that they have no qualms about walking right up to you and speaking to you of their concerns. They would not have dared so with your father."
"They do in fact do that," he responded thoughtfully after a moment's consideration. "Perhaps I should have gone."
"Aye, you should have! You could have met Anborn's wife." He looked up with interest, eyebrow quirked.
"Anborn's gone and gotten married? What is she like?"
"The Valar only know! Never said a word the whole evening!" A glint of humor showed suddenly in his eyes.
"Truly?"
"Truly!" And thus prompted, I proceeded to give him an account of the whole dinner, which amused him mightily. He forgot about his work, and just leaned back in his chair, listening to me and laughing softly from time to time. When I had done speaking, he smiled and shook his head.
"You are right, Heth. I should have gone."
"Aye, you should have. Don't let this Steward business shut you away from people you care about, Faramir--you'll help neither your work nor yourself."
"Very well, oh Mistress of Wisdom! Who still seems bent on protecting me from myself, thankless job though it is!" He chuckled at my discomfiture, and sat up suddenly, his manner turning brisk once more.
"As I told you earlier, if you really want to gift Mablung with a cow, seek Lorend out and have him ride to Lossarnach to talk to his mother--their farm is not very far from the City. If she agrees to sell you one, you should be able to buy the animal, and arrange to have it boarded there till Mablung and Delyth need it. Just give them the contract at the wedding--that's what I'm doing about their house. Thus will the paving stones of the Citadel be saved from possible defilement, and the White Tree preserved. I'll see that he has a courier horse to make the trip, if you can persuade him to do it. And if you cannot, then tell him I want to see him." The Captain look was in his eyes, the one that promised heads would roll if his commands were not carried out, and I grinned to see it.
"Thank you, my lord--you've solved my problem and spared me from the horror of hours and hours of shopping!" Faramir leaned back in his chair once again, a pleased expression on his face.
"Glad I am to have been of help, Heth."
At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, and Faramir's secretary stuck his head into the room.
"My lord, Lord Menevril is here. Your were going to go over the accounts with him? Faramir looked at me apologetically, and I got up immediately.
"I've taken up enough of your time this morning."
He leaned forward towards me and murmured conspiratorially, "I wish I could spare you a bit more--Menevril always sends me to sleep."
"You could still be in Ithilien, tracking and fighting orcs! With Elrohir!"
"Well, when you put it that way......" I sketched him a bow, and departed.
**********************************
As matters turned out, I was able to locate Lorend with very little trouble. I routed him, hungover, out of bed in the house of one of his father's aunts in the fourth circle. She, a genteel widow lady of some means, had no idea what sort of person was staying under her roof, but was merely grateful to have a man in the house to protect her. She believed that his irregular hours were due to difficulties in recovering from his war wound, a belief he was careful to reinforce at regular intervals, and quite doted upon him, a habit he also encouraged.
Lorend informed me privately that his aunt was well-provided for, and had no children, so he was just looking after his own interests. He was less enthused about seeing to mine, since it meant a trip to Lossarnach to purchase the cow for me, but the threat of Faramir's displeasure motivated him to travel in the end. To give him credit, he took a goodly amount of my back pay, but when he returned the morning of the wedding, he had a contract for not one, but two cows, and had arranged for their board for several months. I had been somewhat concerned that he might be annoyed with me for taking for myself the idea for a gift that could have come from him, but I needn't have worried.
"It looks better if you give them to him--from me, it looks like the easy way out," he explained. "Besides, I loathe cattle from life-long exposure to them and already have a present for the bridal couple. It is one they'll use right away, the very first night." When I inquired, intrigued, as to what it might be, Lorend shrugged.
"I suppose it's safe enough to show you--Aunt Laira has gone to a friend's house." Whereupon he went upstairs to his room, and returned bearing a nicely bound book.
A bit surprised that Lorend was showing a literary bent at this late date, I opened the book to look through it--and proceeded to get my education in certain matters broadened almost immediately. Flipping through a few pages at random, I encountered illustrations of some things Elrohir had taught me, and a few that looked impossible to execute even with Elven flexibility. There were also explicit instructions to go with the pictures. I blushed red to my very ears and Lorend, watching me, grinned.
"Whatever is this thing?" I exclaimed. "You don't truly intend to give it to Mablung, do you?"
"It's called The Garden of Love, and it is a very famous Haradrim manual about......well, I'm sure you know what it's about. And yes, I intend to give it to him. Delyth will thank me for it, don't you think?" Recovering myself, and not wanting to reveal how much the book had shocked me, I commented in a casual tone that I could see where it might come in handy.
"In fact, you ought to have purchased a copy for Anborn as well. Then he and his wife would never have needed to speak of such things. He could have just pointed to a page."
That idea apparently appealed to Lorend's twisted sense of humor. I thanked him for his trouble on my behalf and left him still chortling over my remark, and murmuring to himself things like, "Tonight, page twenty-seven if you please, my sweet.".
Personally, I thought Mablung would take one look at that book, weigh the offense against the trouble of finding another lieutenant, and cut Lorend down where he stood. But that was not my problem.
*********************************
After lunch, I rode forth again with my grandfather, and spent a pleasant afternoon in his company. The next day was a quiet one. I went to see my horses in the Dol Amroth stables, and arranged to have the filly shod with light shoes to protect her feet while she was forced to tread the stones of Minas Tirith. While there, I was also measured for my uniforms and boots, and the dress that Lady Tirathiel insisted be made that I might practice courtly graces. That same afternoon, I ran into Damrod down in the fifth circle with some of his men, and we all went out to dinner together and told Ranger tales till quite late. I returned to my rooms to find that Elrohir had still not returned from Ithilien, and spent another disappointed night alone.
The day of Mablung's wedding dawned beautifully, with a clear vault of sky through which small fluffy clouds scudded. The wind was from the North, and cooled the City, and the air was fresh and crisp, yet not too cool. People went about their business in the streets cheerfully, and as the morning progressed, delicious odors began to waft across the courtyard, for the King's cooks were roasting the bullocks in huge ovens in the kitchen, and the doors were open.
I went out shopping early, and bargained for a nice little leather wallet with an attractive leaf design, to put the cow contract in. A stop at a barber's to trim my hair was accomplished, and another to the fuller to pick up my old Ranger cloak. I looked in upon Lord Celeborn at the potter's to find him busy throwing intricately whorled vases with the greatest of ease, while the potter looked on in stunned amazement. Pilara was napping on a blanket on the floor close to his chair, a rag doll clutched in her arms. Her mother informed me quietly that the little girl would not leave the elf-lord's side. The obsession had given the woman the first bit of peace she'd known since the obstreperous child was born, and she looked more rested than I'd ever seen her. I departed with the knowledge that at least one thing I'd accomplished since coming to Minas Tirith was working out well, though at this point there was the question of who was actually teaching who......
The ceremony was to take place in the early evening, and by the time I'd done my errands, it was near the hour to start getting ready. So I stopped by Elrohir's rooms, found that he and his brother were apparently still on the hunt, then returned to my rooms to prepare. Donning the green elven outfit and boots, my Haradrim necklace and my sword, I threw the Ranger cloak over my shoulder despite the warmth of the day, for on this one night, I was determined to be a Ranger of Ithilien again.
I came down to find the Courtyard of the Tree transformed, with tables all about the perimeter that were being laden with food of all sorts, and strings of lanterns. There were a couple of huge barrels of beer upon wagons in the corner, and another couple of tables off to the side were already laden with gifts. It was beginning to fill with what Lady Jerulas would definitely have described as men of the lower social orders, men who, one and all, whatever color of finery they were wearing, wore shabby brown and green cloaks thrown over their shoulders like proud badges of honor as I did. Men who had brought their sweethearts, their wives and in some instances, their children. Any courtiers who dared venture into the courtyard took one look for the most part and fled in terror.
I greeted, and was greeted by, comrades I hadn't seen since the retreat, and was so engrossed in that pastime that when I finally looked up, the sun was sinking into the West, the sky to the East was deepening to cobalt, and an uproar from the Rangers announced that Faramir had arrived.
He was clad in his beautiful green and black court garments and a blindingly white shirt. The gemmed circlet of Ithilien was set precisely upon his head, and there were no errant wisps in evidence. He was beautiful and perfect, and I was filled with love for him all over again, for over his finery he too wore his tatty Ranger cloak!
He greeted a few eager men, then raised a hand. Silence fell.
"The wedding party is on their way," he announced, "So if you will all assemble before the Tree, we can begin." Despite what he had said days earlier, he did not seem nervous in the least.
Much more swiftly and featly than when the King had commanded them at court, the Rangers formed up, leaving a aisle-like space between two throngs that led to the White Tree. Faramir took his place before it, and things quieted. Murmuring announced the arrival of the bridal party. I was towards the front, and looked back to watch as Mablung and Delyth and their families arrived.
Mablung was wearing the green and brown stag-embroidered ensemble he had worn at court before, with his Ranger cloak over all. Delyth was lovely in a flowing white gown, girdled with a belt of stag plaques, and wore her incredible hair hanging loose, garlanded with summer flowers. Mablung kept giving her stunned, sidelong glances as if he could not believe his good fortune. Their families came in with them, and I finally saw all of Mablung's formidable sisters in once place. The family resemblance was strong, which was perhaps unfortunate--Mablung's features definitely looked better on a man. Between his sisters, and Delyth's brothers and parents, there was quite a throng assembled before Faramir.
Mablung's oldest sister and Delyth's father gave them to each other, as Faramir spoke the words. Though it was the first time he'd done it, there was no hesitation in him at all, and in fact he was smiling, obviously enjoying the opportunity to provide this joyous service for his friend. Attending my second wedding in a little over a week, I was taken with how brief the ceremony truly was in light of the affect it had upon two peoples' lives. There was utter silence as Mablung and Delyth exchanged their rings and their vows, but when Faramir pronounced them wed, a roar went up that near rattled the windows of the Tower of Ecthelion. Musicians who had arrived while the ceremony was going on struck up a merry tune, and many of the Rangers surged forward to congratulate the married couple, while others strolled towards the food tables, to get the best pickings there first.
I went forward with the rush to the newlyweds, and situated as I had been, was one of the first to greet them.
"I wish you both every happiness," I said as I embraced first Mablung, then Delyth.
"Thank you, Heth," he murmured, followed by Delyth's somewhat breathless assent. Her cheeks were flushed and a hectic look was in her eye--prone a bit towards panic after the crisis was Delyth, I deemed. Which was, of course, far better than panic during one. As for Mablung, he was almost quivering in relief, having survived an ordeal he had been dreading. I then renewed my acquaintance with Delyth's family, and was introduced to Mablung's sisters, who subjected me to intense scrutiny, one after the other. I thought I finally understood why Mablung had chosen the army as a career, and why he had hardly ever gone home on leave.
Faramir, who had congratulated them first, turned to me and gave me a hug.
"So-did I do it right, Heth?" I returned his embrace with pleasure.
"I thought you did every bit as well as Mithrandir did the other day."
"Ah, but you are prejudiced in favor of Rangers, so I can hardly rely upon you for an objective opinion!" A final squeeze and he released me to speak to Damrod. I grinned and moved to greet another of my old companions as well.
The bride and groom and their families were seated at a table clad in fine white linen and set near the Tree, and food was brought to them, but the rest of us either circulated, eating while standing, or perched upon chairs and benches which had also been set about the edges of the courtyard. Part of the courtyard had been roped off as a dance floor, and already some of the younger folk were cavorting to the sprightly music. I noticed a couple of child-sized figures who were not children over by the food table, being handed laden plates by the Rangers, and grinned. Apparently, the wedding feast had proven too strong a temptation for at least two of the hobbits, Merry and Pippin from the looks of it, as they were the tallest of the four.
The sun had gone below the horizon, and stars were beginning to appear when there was a commotion at the gate. The sentries were reprimanding someone, but were apparently forced to give way because the next thing I knew, a wagon was being driven into the courtyard. It was a farm wagon, drawn by a pair of beautiful matched black draught horses, shaggy of fetlock and heavy of mane, and full of people clad in blue and silver garments. The horses had blue and white ribbons and flowers braided into their manes, and the driver, I suddenly realized, was Prince Imrahil. He was wearing one of those sleeveless brocaded jerkins the hobbits had made popular in the City, and a white silk shirt with his breeches and boots, and his voice was jovial as it rang out over the noise of the crowd.
"Captain Mablung, Mistress Delyth! If the denizens of Dol Amroth bring you a gift, may we come to your wedding celebration?" Mablung and his lady stood up, surprise writ large upon their faces.
"My lord prince," he called back, "You are welcome in any event, gift or no! But if you feel you must, there is a table for such things over there--" and he indicated the gift table.
Imrahil grinned his most roguish grin, and with a sweeping gesture of his hand, indicated the wagon and team. "I don't think it will fit upon the table, Captain Mablung!" His passengers were jumping down from the wagon--all three of his sons, Master Andrahar and the Princesses Lothiriel and Mariel. The ladies were wearing wreaths of flowers not unlike those being sported by the Rangers' wives and sweethearts. They all mingled with the crowd, save for Andrahar, who stayed by his lord, and Amrothos, who jumped off last, gathered a rather large and unwieldy bundle under his arm, and almost scampered off in the direction of the Tower of Ecthelion.
Delyth caught the Prince's meaning before Mablung did, grabbed her new husband's arm, and jumped up and down in place a couple of times before dragging him out from behind the table towards the wagon.
"Oh Mablung, look, he's given us horses, look at them!" She was almost to the wagon when she halted, her eyes wide with realization. "That's the harness you commissioned, your Highness!" Imrahil, handing the reins to an esquire who had appeared, as usual, from out of thin air, swung down from the wagon, and strolled over to the new couple.
"Well, I knew you wouldn't be happy with someone else's work, so I had you do whatever you would have most liked for yourself," he explained casually. "The wagon is yours also, of course--I thought it might come in handy. The team are brother and sister, gelding and mare, and the mare will foal next spring, so use her brother for the heavier tasks." Delyth smoothed a glistening black neck for a moment, cast an appraising eye over the wagon--then suddenly turned, threw her arms about the Prince and gave him a resounding kiss on the cheek. The Rangers roared with laughter, and the Prince smiled, giving her a paternal pat upon the shoulder in return. Fortunately, she remembered herself and came to her senses before lack of air became an issue for him.
Mablung, equally moved but less impetuous, announced his and Delyth's thanks to the Prince aloud so everyone could hear, then clasped arms with him. Imrahil bent his head close to Mablung's ear and murmured something which made my friend smile. Then he looked up and around, at the folk who were gathered about the wagon, murmuring in admiration at it and the horses.
"I could have sworn that the King said something in Council about the difficulty of finding enough beer to quench the thirst of the Ithilien Rangers, but I would see evidence of the futile attempt." There was another burst of laughter from the Rangers, and several people offered to guide him over to the beer barrels. He set off in that direction with Master Andrahar at his side. I hurried over to join him about the same time Faramir did.
"Well, Uncle," he was saying, "you've certainly made everyone else's gifts seem a bit inadequate." The Prince smiled unrepentantly.
""Tis not my fault if you do not know how to make an entrance, nephew! Hello, Hethlin," he greeted me. "You look very well this evening." I bobbed my head, the best I could do while in motion.
"Thank you, my lord. As do you. Is that not the latest fashion?"
"Indeed it is. Courtesy of Lothiriel, of course." I bowed my head in turn to Master Andrahar.
"Good evening to you as well, Master Andrahar." The Prince's Armsmaster gave me a momentary, chilly look, then an almost infinitesimal nod. Figuring that was as good as I was likely to get from him, I did not press the matter further.
We all of us found tankards of beer, even Andrahar, and sat back and watched the fun for a while. Mablung and Delyth went over to their table of gifts eventually, and exclaimed over them. When they found the parchment that announced that Faramir was building a house for them, their reaction was everything he could have wished for, and more--I thought for a moment that Mablung might actually break down in tears. Instead, he announced the generous gift at the top of his voice, and the Rangers all cheered their former Captain, and raised a toast to him.
It was then that we found out what Amrothos had been up to in the Tower of Ecthelion. There was a loud bang, and a flower of golden light blossomed against the darkening sky above the Tower. It was followed by more explosions and more blossoms of vari-colored fire--blue, green, red, silver and purple. After the first momentary start of fright, I watched enraptured. I'd never seen fireworks before, but I knew what they were. The hobbits obviously did as well, shouting exclamations of pleasure. I heard Mithrandir's name mentioned, and wondered if they thought he'd done some wizardry.
Faramir and Imrahil exchanged meaningful looks. "Did you know that 'Rothos was going to do that?" Faramir asked.
"Well, he left the house with this huge parcel, and asked me where the tinderbox was, but no, I never thought anything about it," the Prince answered blandly. Faramir stared at his uncle in disbelief for a moment, then shook his head sadly. After a moment, Imrahil chuckled, and took a drink of his beer.
When the fireworks were over, the dancing resumed, and as it was the sort of dancing I understood, and the company was one in which I felt comfortable, I quite indulged myself, dancing with Faramir, the Prince, Delyth's father, Mablung, Damrod, Anborn, and even Lorend, who had survived the discovery of his wedding present, though Mablung blanched and hid it swiftly away. I was not entirely certain, but I thought I might have seen Mablung's sisters with it later, all in a cluster and laughing amongst themselves.
I danced, it seemed, with practically every Ranger there, and Prince Erchirion to boot, and quenched my thirst between dances with draughts of beer. I wasn't drunk, but I was certainly not sober either. There were definitely others who were worse off. Damrod's rangers were passing around some bottles of an evil concoction they'd somehow brewed out in the woods. I saw the Prince sample it at least once, and shudder fastidiously. Barathen, from the Cair Andros garrison, who had kept our courier horses for us, wanted to dance with me eventually, and he was much the worse for wear from imbibing it.
"I don't know if that would be a good idea," I told him. "Even if you used to be stationed on the River, I'm not sure you're safe to navigate!" There was much laughter, and he promptly became the subject of much mockery from the Rangers, who claimed superior consumptive capacity over the regular army. This made Barathen only that much more determined to prove them wrong, and in the interests of preventing a brawl, I finally agreed to dance with him.
That it was a mistake soon became apparent, though I managed to avoid having my feet trod upon, and did what I could to avoid collisions with the other couples. But eventually we came to a point in the dance where the gentlemen spun their partners about, and there my luck ran out. He twirled me with rather more vigour than was necessary, and his hands slipped on mine at the height of the spin. I went flying out of the dance, trying to catch my balance, and my foot hit a wet spot upon the pavement where someone had spilled some ale. Windmilling backwards, I careened into one of the spectators, who grunted and staggered backwards himself, but caught me about the chest and somehow managed to keep both of us from hitting the hard stone flags of the courtyard.
My head was whirling from all the spinning and the drink, and it took me a moment to collect myself. There was laughter and jesting from the surrounding crowd, and I could feel the laughter vibrating from my rescuer. Barathen was apparently being escorted off to the side before he could harm himself or others further, to the accompaniment of much mockery. I looked down and saw that the warm arms about me were not clad in linen or leather or wool, but in silk. Turning around carefully within them, for they did not seem inclined to release me, I found myself nose to nose with my liege lord, who was by now near shaking with the force of his laughter, his eyes merry as they met mine.
"Are you all right, my lord?" I asked concernedly.
"I had the wind driven out of me, that's all," came his chuckled reply. "How about you?"
"I am uninjured, sir." I became aware suddenly that in turning about, I was pressed close to him, chests and hips together, and that.....evidence.....was in evidence. I started to turn red, and the redder I got, the more he laughed. But though he loosened his grip somewhat, letting his arms drape negligently about my hips, he still did not let me go.
"I claim a forfeit, my lady Hethlin, for saving you from the perils of your dancing partner!" he declared, the same light of manic hilarity in his eyes that I'd seen on the journey to Lorien, the night he'd told the bedtime story. I suspected that he might be more than a little intoxicated. The folk nearest us took up his demand, then it spread, until cries of "A forfeit! A forfeit!" were ringing through the Court of the Fountain.
"A forfeit?" I asked warily, torn between a peculiar blend of curiosity and trepidation. "What sort of forfeit?"
"Oh, the usual sort," he responded airily, and to my very great astonishment, tightened his arms about me once more and bent his head and kissed me. A roar of approval went up from the wedding guests.
It was not the genteel press of lips he had given me at the King's wedding dance. That had been a Prince's kiss, chaste and polite. This was a pirate's kiss, declaring intent to plunder, searing enough to melt my bones. Once again, there was a taste of wine upon his lips, which were firm and warm. His hand splayed across the small of my back, holding me snugly against him. I should have felt trapped, but I did not--this was Imrahil, whom I trusted would never hurt me. I tensed for a moment, then relaxed against him. Without my telling it to, my mouth opened further, letting him do whatever he wished, and he made a sound deep in his throat. The kiss deepened. His other hand was tangled in my hair, holding my head still, his lips never leaving mine. The dizziness I had felt earlier returned, this time probably from lack of air, and I surrendered to it, sagging against him, feeling my knees buckle. My hands clutched weakly at his brocaded shoulders. Kissing, I thought somewhat hazily, needed to be added to the ever-increasing list of things that the Prince did well. Very well indeed.
Whoops and laughter and calls of encouragement rose from the crowd surrounding us. "That's the way to do it, your Highness!" "Make sure you give 'im as good as you get, Heth!" "So THAT'S a Dol Amroth forfeit!" and other such jolly commentary came to our ears. Then I heard Faramir's voice somewhere close to us, a hint of disapproval in his questioning "Uncle?".
His inquiry was like a bucket of cold water thrown over us. Imrahil stiffened against me, and broke off the kiss, his face still close to mine. I watched appalled awareness of our situation dawn in his eyes, and embarrassment, and strangely enough, felt badly for falling against him and putting him in this position. His chest was heaving, fast and shallow against mine, his utter dismay palpable. "Forfeit claimed, my lady," he murmured after a moment, his voice shaken as I had never heard it before, and his arms fell away from me, releasing me. Our audience began to applaud, cheering lustily. I stepped back from him, a bit wobbly in the legs, and smoothed a hand through my mussed-up hair. My liege lord began to tidy himself as well, eyes cast down, not looking at me. He took a long, deep, shuddering breath, then another and finally a third, and over the course of those three breaths, I saw all the humor and passion and laughter and wild joy in him leach away, transmuting into princely reserve. It was actually a rather horrible thing to witness, and I had a sense from the swiftness with which he accomplished it that it had been done many times before over the years. I blinked, fighting a sudden weird urge to weep.
Looking about, my cheeks still pink, I found some people still watching us, but most of the others had turned already to other conversations and pursuits. A little way away, however, Prince Elphir, Princess Mariel, Prince Erchirion and Princess Lothiriel all regarded us with looks of puzzlement. As for Faramir, he watched us with the worry line prominent between his brows.
"I cannot apologize enough, Hethlin," the Prince said to me softly, his voice steadier now, continuing to set himself to rights. Somehow he seemed much more sober than he had been but moments before, though that might have been dissembling. "I fear that I was overcome by that rotgut the Rangers were serving out, and the festive air of the proceedings."
"That's quite all right, sir. No harm done," I assured him, though I was rather confused about what had just happened, and all the conflicting feelings coursing through me. "I should have warned you about that stuff. Strong enough to etch armor it is, I'll warrant. And mixing it with beer, as you did--not a good idea."
The Prince's answering smile was self-deprecating. "A poor enough excuse for the actions of a drunken fool. And the sort of thing that you, of all people, should not have to put up with."
"It was not so horrible as all that, my lord!" In fact, it would have been more truthful to say that it had not been horrible at all, but I did not know if he would appreciate that. I wasn't sure what he would appreciate at this point, other than perhaps a return to our normal relationship, or barring that, a swift escape. "You kiss very well," I observed, smiling at him and hoping to lighten his mood, but he shook his head grimly.
"You are kind to say so, but it is obvious that it is long past time for me to leave the party. I will just say good night to the bride and groom, and take myself home. A good night to you as well, child." I bowed, he nodded, and turned to walk away. Faramir started to follow him, but was forestalled by an upraised hand.
"Don't hover, lad. Andra will see me home. Where I will be all day tomorrow, if you wish to speak to me." We watched him go, Master Andrahar falling in behind him like his very shadow, then Faramir turned to me.
"Let's take a walk, shall we, Heth? If you are able." I glowered at him.
"I'm not drunk, Faramir, I just got a little dizzy from being thrown all over the place by Barathen."
"Of course," he agreed. "Shall we?" He gestured in the direction of the stairs to the ramparts, and I fell in beside him. "Are you certain that you are all right?" he asked solicitously as we reached the foot of the stairs.
"Of course. It was just your uncle, and he was simply jesting. A bawdy jest, it is true, but then there have been plenty of those this evening. He was only getting into the spirit of things." Faramir glanced sideways at me as we started to ascend.
"In the seventeen years since Aunt Nimrien died, I have never known my uncle to do more than kiss a lady's hand, in jest or otherwise. I certainly have never seen him kiss anyone as he kissed you just now. Whatever has come over him? And exactly what happened on the trip to Lorien?"
I was making my way carefully up the stairs, being certain to keep my hand on the wall, and well away from the edge, for despite what I'd told Faramir, I knew that I was a little unsteady. "As for what has come over him--I don't know that anything has. He has said more than once that he was a very wild young man. It stands to reason that it would not be that hard for him to remember how to be so again." I frowned as I realized something suddenly. "Though in truth, I may be somewhat responsible for this. While we were traveling, I got very tired of him talking about what an old man he was, and how he was past that sort of thing-- kissing and what comes after. I told him more than once that he needed to stop talking like that and to go celebrate our victory and have a good time. So perhaps I gave him the idea."
"I had no idea you had such influence over my uncle," Faramir commented dryly. "I am impressed." He did not sound impressed, or even particularly pleased.
"I did not mean it in that way!" I protested. "But we talked often about a great many things. He is very easy to talk to."
"I have always found him to be so," Faramir agreed. We reached the top of the stairs, stepped onto the ramparts, and he turned and fastened his most intent commander's stare upon me. "How badly was he hurt, Hethlin? Did the elves do something to him while he was there? He has been acting....oddly... ever since he returned."
Faramir in full Captain mode I had always found intimidating, and I had never before been able to hold anything back from him. But somewhere in the last few months, on the Pelennor or in Lorien or at Min-Rimmon, I had found new fortitude. Meeting his gaze squarely, I replied, "I cannot discuss his condition with you, Faramir. He has forbidden me to speak of it, even to his family. And as his esquire, I must obey. I suggest you apply to him for the details. But I will say that the elves did not do anything 'strange' to him that I could see. They were very kind and helpful."
He strolled over to one of the merlons, and leaned back against it. "What if I were to command you, as the Steward of Gondor, to tell me?" His voice was calm, but that undertone of authority was in it, the one that said he wouldn't take no for an answer. I grimaced, walked over to the crennelations, looked out over the City for a moment, then turned to face him.
"Then I would say that I hope you have renovated Lord Hurin's holding cells while you've been repairing the City." His mouth twitched, and he relented.
"Very well, Heth, I shall not press you further upon the matter! And I do appreciate your loyalty to my uncle. I know well the worth of it." I nodded, and we were both silent for a moment. Then he continued, his voice concerned, "Provided it is simply loyalty."
"What exactly do you mean by that?" I asked a bit sharply. He made an graceful, indeterminate gesture.
"Simply that I have asked what the Elves did to him in Lorien, but not what you did."
"I 'did' nothing to him in Lorien, other than learn to play chess and have some interesting talks!" I protested, offended. "Why would you think that anything untoward happened? You give neither of us any credit if you think that."
Faramir frowned. Time there was when that frown would have devastated my world. "Hethlin, Uncle simply does not do that sort of thing! Not at all! And if he did, it would not be casual! So I have to wonder if you haven't given him some sort of idea that you are interested in him. Which, considering that you are currently involved with Lord Elrohir, does not please me in the least!"
Astounded, I stared at him for a long moment. I had discovered in Rohan that I was capable of being disappointed in Faramir, and even angry with him. But I had never imagined the day would come when he could inspire pure fury in me. My arm ached with the urge to rise up and slap him hard across the face. But aside from all the history that we shared, one did not treat the Steward of Gondor so. Instead, I took a deep, deep breath, trying to quell my emotion as the Prince had done earlier, and leaned back against the merlon.
"In the first place, my lord Steward," and his eyebrow shot up at the chill in my voice, "your uncle has long since grown to manhood, and is in full possession of his wits. And while it is true that there was a time when his situation required that he be restrained and discreet, that is no longer the case. His children are grown up, and he may suit himself now. You and I are hardly the only people who were affected by the war--he had command of the City for a while, and fought bravely upon the Pelennor and at the Morannon. He has served well, and with honor, and if he wants to celebrate and kiss a girl at a wedding, then it is no-one's business but his and the girl's. I will remind you that he caught me, and kissed me, not the other way around! There was no harm done to anyone, and while I may have given him the idea about celebrating in general, which I have already admitted, I have never given him any idea that I cared for him as other than my liege!"
The feelings I had experienced at the King's wedding dance flitted through my mind, but since I had not intentionally relayed them to the Prince in any way, I felt I could rightly make that claim. Pale with anger, Faramir started to speak, but I cut him off.
"In the second place, you have no right to call me to account about this. You are not my commander any longer, nor my liege. We are neither kith nor kin."
"I am his kin." His face was shuttered and stern, and at that moment he very much resembled his father, who had always terrified me. But I was past caring about such things.
"And he is hardly a fool, and is old enough to take care of himself."
If I had not recognized the tone of voice in which I had spoken to him, for I had never used it before, I knew well the one in which he replied to me. I had simply never imagined myself the object of his wrath and disdain.
"Excuse me for thinking that I could presume upon our long acquaintance to express my concern over your actions."
I pushed away from the merlon, and moved to face him. "You were not expressing concern, you were accusing me of seducing your uncle! Since the war has been over, you are ever ready to think the worst of me, it seems, while you will forgive your deserter bride anything she does!"
That struck home, I saw, the blade sinking deep and twisting as well. He stared at me, shocked.
"You would speak so of Eowyn, and call her friend to her face?"
"It is nothing I have not spoken of to her face! And whether you wish to admit it or no, a deserter is a person who is given a post then abandons it without leave, and that is what she did at Dunharrow! I did not know anything about it until I went to Edoras, when I became curious about why some of the people there were angry with her. She told me about what had happened and then we quarreled, for I did not approve of her actions. We have agreed to disagree upon the matter and are friends once more, but it lies between us, and we are not as easy with each other as we had been."
"And are you so perfect then, that you have never made a mistake? Can you then not understand and forgive what she did?" His sarcasm was both scathing and elegant, but it did not move me. I was obdurate.
"Mistakes I may have made, but I have never failed in any charge you or any other ever gave me. And had I done so, I seriously doubt you would have been so understanding or forgiving with me." Lips held thin and brow deeply furrowed, he moved away from me to look out over the ramparts at the City.
"It is not the same thing, Hethlin."
"Of course not," I agreed, remaining where I was. "As the Prince has explained to me, Eowyn is the woman you love, while I am merely one of your soldiers. Perhaps something more than a soldier--you drew me from the water, saved my life, and made me a Ranger. I think because of that, whether you realize it or not, you believe that you own me." That turned him back around in a hurry.
"Where ARE you getting all these strange ideas? That is absurd!"
"Is it? Then why did you show your displeasure over my relationship with Elrohir just the other day? Why are you so disapproving of your uncle giving me a kiss? If he were truly attracted to me, which I doubt is the case, why should you object? My lineage is good, I would be a suitable wife for him on that account. Do you not believe your uncle deserves some happiness?" He did not answer, merely giving me a frosty glare, so I continued.
"When Elrohir used to behave thusly, I accused him of being a dog in a manger--having no use for what was in it, but not wanting anyone else to have it either. And now you are acting in just the same way! Lord Elrond has healed my childlessness, but I know well that will not change your mind about me. You do not wish to take me to bed or to wife, but you mislike anyone else wanting to. I am your charge, your creation, and you wish to control my life in all things--in much the same way as your father used to try to control you. You put me much in mind of him just now, my lord Steward."
He paled even further than he already had at that, and for a moment I thought I might have pushed him too far. "I think we may leave my father out of this, my lady. You do yourself no credit with your accusations." There was a frightening lack of expression in his voice, and his eyes were pure grey ice. I should have been terrified--I would have been terrified but scant months before. And in truth, I had no idea where the strength for this reckless opposition was coming from. Perhaps it sprang from my long-thwarted desire for him, or my irritation at his blind adoration of Eowyn.
But wherever it came from, it was continuing--"As you do neither of us any credit when you all but name me slattern, my lord!" Our eyes met and held, like grey steel clashing, and to my amazement, his dropped first.
"I think....." he said at last with some difficulty, "that it would be best if we ended this conversation now, or at very least continued it at a later date. A friend we both hold dear would have his happiest day spoiled if he were ever to learn of this. Good evening, my lady." He bowed to me then, something he'd never done before, but I doubted that it was meant as a gesture of respect--the irony was too obvious.
My head inclined in a fractional, unforgiving nod. "Good evening, my lord Steward." He moved past me and down the stairs, leaving me the high ground. And victory, of an awful sort.
The next morning, I woke and went in search of my back pay, for the oranges had exhausted the small fund of ready money I had. I went to the Steward's office, expecting to speak to his secretary about the matter, but much to my surprise, Faramir himself was there.
"Good morning, Heth!" he said, pleased to see me.
"Aren't you in Ithilien?" I asked him with a smile. He returned it happily enough.
"I was, and I conferred with my surveyors. Then we met up with one of Damrod's patrols. They were tracking a possible orc incursion. The Elves decided to sally forth along with them on foot, and I had things to do here, so I brought their horses back with my guard, and left them at the courier post closest to the River."
"You didn't want to go with them?" He shook his head.
"That is Damrod's job now, and he's welcome to it." I blinked, rather surprised he could casually dismiss the captaincy he'd held for so long and done so well. Though he had told me once upon a time that he would gladly lay down his sword the earliest moment he could, the reality disconcerted me a bit. Faramir continued, his tone distinctly dry of a sudden. "And besides, your friend Elrohir wears on me after a while."
"Oh dear, was he very difficult?"
"No more than usual."
"That bad?"
"Oh yes."
"I am sorry."
"Nothing you should be sorry for, Heth." His slender fingers were flicking through a rather sizable pile of papers upon his desk, and from time to time he would select one and sign it, stamp it with the Steward's seal he kept upon his desk, and put it in another pile. "Why don't you sit here and keep me company for a bit? I'll send for tea, and you can tell me about Lorien. This is all routine, and I can sign papers and listen to you as well. The way things are going, it may be the only chance the two of us get to talk before the wedding."
"I would like that," I replied, and he rang a bell for a servant, requesting tea, and after a grin at me, some honey cakes. I glowered, and he laughed.
"Now don't frown! You must admit, you have a weakness where sweets are concerned! My brother got to the point where he had his man standing over his supplies with sword practically drawn when he visited, for he knew that if there were honey cakes in his pack, then Mablung would be stealing some for you!"
"Well, after Mablung had gone to all that trouble for me, I could hardly refuse them, could I?" I retorted with mock indignation, and he laughed. He was certainly in a good mood, and it lifted my heart to see it, as well as to see him refer to his brother in a casual but loving way that indicated he was coming to terms with his loss.
"So kind of you to be so considerate of Mablung's feelings! Not that your sweet tooth seems to have done you any harm," he commented. "You're looking very well. How are you feeling?"
I ducked my head a bit at the compliment. He could still make me feel fluttery inside, and it took a moment to suppress it. "Better now. Still a bit tired every now and then. I don't have all my strength back, but Lord Elrond said it might take a week or more to feel myself again."
"Was he able to help you?" The question was very quiet, and a bit hesitant, as if he were reluctant to pry into my personal business. I smiled.
"He said that he was successful, and that I should be able to bear children now, though in truth, I don't feel any different." Faramir smiled back at me then, the smile that was more subdued than his uncle's but which engaged both eyes and mouth in much the same way.
"That is very good news, Heth! I am glad for you."
"As am I! Perhaps one day I will be able to marry after all. For a long time, I believed I never would." He considered this in silence for a moment, as he signed and stamped yet another paper.
"And have you any candidates for husband in mind?" he asked at last, with more of that hesitance.
"Besides yourself, you mean?" I inquired archly. He actually grinned again at that, and waggled a warning finger at me. I laughed. "Nay, no one in mind at present!"
"From the way Lord Elrohir was speaking in Ithilien, I thought that you and he might be thinking of marriage."
The look I gave him then mingled horror and trepidation. "WHAT did he say to you?" Faramir shrugged.
"He was not indiscreet. There was no bragging within earshot of the others, nothing like that. " I considered that Faramir might be unaware of how truly keen Elven hearing could be. It was not a reassuring thought, that Lord Glorfindel or Prince Legolas might know the details of my romantic life. "But he did make the time to tell me privately that you had been with him since Lothlorien. Which was hardly a surprise, given how the two of you were acting at Amon Din." It was not a reproof, and his voice was quite mild, but I felt myself flushing with unjustified embarrassment nonetheless. "Hethlin, it is not my place to intrude into your personal business, but is involving yourself with Lord Elrohir wise?"
My turn to shrug. "I have it on good authority that it is unwise. But he is my friend, and he taught me how to accept a man's touch, and he will not give me a child, even now, for the Elder Kindred do not conceive save within a marriage. We are harming no one, so I do not see that it is anyone's concern but ours. And just so you know, I have already had this talk with Mablung."
He nodded, and took up another document. "That does not surprise me--Mablung looks upon you as a sister, or daughter. Does my uncle know about your....arrangement?"
"He could hardly be unaware of it, could he? Elrohir and I talked to him about it." That confounded him for some reason, I could tell. He set the paper down slowly.
"You did? What did he say?"
"He said that as far as he was concerned, I was as any other of his men, and subject to the same rules. So long as our arrangement, as you put it, did not interfere with my training, he would not forbid it. He sees it as no different than one of his other esquires having a lass for a sweetheart."
"How very.....understanding of him."
"He is a very understanding man, and a good man to serve."
"But have you no thought for your reputation, Heth?"
"As I told Mablung, no one will believe that I am chaste no matter what I do--I discovered that during the King's wedding. And your uncle says that so long as he, the King and Queen and you approve of me, then nothing else matters." I gave him an inquiring look. "Are you saying then that you do not approve?"
He looked uncomfortable. "I am concerned for you, that you do not suffer censure at court." I snorted.
"I care naught about how I am regarded at court."
At that moment, a servant walked in with a tea tray upon which was a plate piled high with honey cakes. Faramir laid his papers aside, looking grateful for the interruption, and used it as a opportunity to change the subject.
"You have yet to tell me anything about Lorien."
"Surely, with all the time you've spent around the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, and the Queen and her brothers, you don't need the likes of me to describe Lorien!"
"I would know how you found it."
So as we sipped and chewed companionably, I told him about the flets, the mallorns, the lanterns, the elves, and anything else I could think of without directly referring to his uncle's indisposition. From the occasional raised eyebrow, I knew he had an idea that I was omitting things, but he was polite, and did not press the matter. He did seem most interested in my observations about the Elves, and talked a little in turn about Lord Legolas' intention to move south into Ithilien with some of his kindred.
"That is wonderful, Faramir! Elves within sight of Minas Tirith! I can see why they would like Ithilien." Perhaps, I thought hopefully, the King was wrong, and the Elves would stay upon Middle-earth for some time to come.
"Legolas says that they can help heal the damages the orcs have left. I am looking forward to having them as neighbors."
"Not to mention Mablung. His land is fairly close by, is it not?"
"Yes, close by the river. Right next to yours. Which you haven't even had a chance to see yet."
"I know. And the way things are going, I don't know when I'll get the chance. Are Mablung and Delyth going to go ahead and build a house and set up their farmstead right away?"
Faramir's expression became slightly smug. "Well, someone is going to build them a house." I looked at him and whistled in admiration.
"That is a princely gift indeed!"
"In a lot of ways, Heth, I owe Mablung even more than you do. What are you going to get them--if you don't mind my asking?"
"I don't know! I've been puzzling over that very thing for days now!" He reached into his middle desk drawer, and pulled out a small suede bag that chinked as it moved. It was heavy and lay pleasantly in my hand after he deposited it there.
"Your back pay. Perhaps that will help." A slightly devilish gleam came into his eye. "You know, you could always ask Cousin Thiri to advise you. She loves to shop."
I groaned. "Somehow, I don't think she understands how to shop for farmers! Can you see Delyth hoeing vegetables in a brocade gown?" He snorted, amused. "In truth, I do have an idea about what to get, I just don't know how to go about it."
"And what would that be?"
"If I were starting a new farm, I would want a good milk cow. But I don't know where to find one, and how or where I would keep it while Mablung was getting his farm built. And I couldn't take it to the wedding with a bow around its neck--it would probably try to eat the White Tree or something." I glanced at Faramir, to see if he were going to laugh at me, but he just looked thoughtful.
"You know, you might want to talk to Lorend about that. His mother keeps cows, and makes cheeses."
"Does she? I thought his people were merchants."
"His father is. His mother is a cheesemaker. Do you remember those really nice cheeses he always brought us for Yule? His mother makes those."
"He brought a cheese with him to dinner last night as well. It was very good--Delyth's parents liked it."
"Ah yes, the dinner. How did that go?" His voice was the tiniest bit wistful, I thought.
"It was a very nice evening, and Mablung should have invited you! Of all the people to leave out....." I was rather indignant on his behalf, but he merely cradled his teacup in his hands, and stared thoughtfully down into it.
"Of course he invited me, Heth. I declined."
"But why?"
"Because, while Mablung's Captain would have been a welcome guest, having the Steward of Gondor show up to dine in their house would have probably scared those poor people half to death! What to feed him? Is it good enough? Quick, give him the best chair! Be careful what you say, you don't want to offend him! The evening would have become all about me, and that was not what I wanted for him."
"I don't know about that--they seemed pretty stout-hearted to me. They do a lot of work for your uncle, and I imagine they could have handled it if he showed up for dinner."
Faramir made a face. "Yes, but that's Uncle--he changes his plumage to fit the circumstances in a heartbeat, and moves up and down the social ladder with perfect ease. You do too, for that matter, and I don't think you even know you're doing it. I am not so easy with people."
My jaw dropped. "Faramir, whatever are you talking about? All of your men love you, as you well know!"
"Yes, but the Rangers were not so enthused about me in the beginning! They thought I was an insufferable, stuck-up brat, in fact! It took years to build that relationship, Heth."
"That is as may be, but I think you underestimate your ability to inspire affection. The people of the City love you as well. I hear it said that they have no qualms about walking right up to you and speaking to you of their concerns. They would not have dared so with your father."
"They do in fact do that," he responded thoughtfully after a moment's consideration. "Perhaps I should have gone."
"Aye, you should have! You could have met Anborn's wife." He looked up with interest, eyebrow quirked.
"Anborn's gone and gotten married? What is she like?"
"The Valar only know! Never said a word the whole evening!" A glint of humor showed suddenly in his eyes.
"Truly?"
"Truly!" And thus prompted, I proceeded to give him an account of the whole dinner, which amused him mightily. He forgot about his work, and just leaned back in his chair, listening to me and laughing softly from time to time. When I had done speaking, he smiled and shook his head.
"You are right, Heth. I should have gone."
"Aye, you should have. Don't let this Steward business shut you away from people you care about, Faramir--you'll help neither your work nor yourself."
"Very well, oh Mistress of Wisdom! Who still seems bent on protecting me from myself, thankless job though it is!" He chuckled at my discomfiture, and sat up suddenly, his manner turning brisk once more.
"As I told you earlier, if you really want to gift Mablung with a cow, seek Lorend out and have him ride to Lossarnach to talk to his mother--their farm is not very far from the City. If she agrees to sell you one, you should be able to buy the animal, and arrange to have it boarded there till Mablung and Delyth need it. Just give them the contract at the wedding--that's what I'm doing about their house. Thus will the paving stones of the Citadel be saved from possible defilement, and the White Tree preserved. I'll see that he has a courier horse to make the trip, if you can persuade him to do it. And if you cannot, then tell him I want to see him." The Captain look was in his eyes, the one that promised heads would roll if his commands were not carried out, and I grinned to see it.
"Thank you, my lord--you've solved my problem and spared me from the horror of hours and hours of shopping!" Faramir leaned back in his chair once again, a pleased expression on his face.
"Glad I am to have been of help, Heth."
At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, and Faramir's secretary stuck his head into the room.
"My lord, Lord Menevril is here. Your were going to go over the accounts with him? Faramir looked at me apologetically, and I got up immediately.
"I've taken up enough of your time this morning."
He leaned forward towards me and murmured conspiratorially, "I wish I could spare you a bit more--Menevril always sends me to sleep."
"You could still be in Ithilien, tracking and fighting orcs! With Elrohir!"
"Well, when you put it that way......" I sketched him a bow, and departed.
**********************************
As matters turned out, I was able to locate Lorend with very little trouble. I routed him, hungover, out of bed in the house of one of his father's aunts in the fourth circle. She, a genteel widow lady of some means, had no idea what sort of person was staying under her roof, but was merely grateful to have a man in the house to protect her. She believed that his irregular hours were due to difficulties in recovering from his war wound, a belief he was careful to reinforce at regular intervals, and quite doted upon him, a habit he also encouraged.
Lorend informed me privately that his aunt was well-provided for, and had no children, so he was just looking after his own interests. He was less enthused about seeing to mine, since it meant a trip to Lossarnach to purchase the cow for me, but the threat of Faramir's displeasure motivated him to travel in the end. To give him credit, he took a goodly amount of my back pay, but when he returned the morning of the wedding, he had a contract for not one, but two cows, and had arranged for their board for several months. I had been somewhat concerned that he might be annoyed with me for taking for myself the idea for a gift that could have come from him, but I needn't have worried.
"It looks better if you give them to him--from me, it looks like the easy way out," he explained. "Besides, I loathe cattle from life-long exposure to them and already have a present for the bridal couple. It is one they'll use right away, the very first night." When I inquired, intrigued, as to what it might be, Lorend shrugged.
"I suppose it's safe enough to show you--Aunt Laira has gone to a friend's house." Whereupon he went upstairs to his room, and returned bearing a nicely bound book.
A bit surprised that Lorend was showing a literary bent at this late date, I opened the book to look through it--and proceeded to get my education in certain matters broadened almost immediately. Flipping through a few pages at random, I encountered illustrations of some things Elrohir had taught me, and a few that looked impossible to execute even with Elven flexibility. There were also explicit instructions to go with the pictures. I blushed red to my very ears and Lorend, watching me, grinned.
"Whatever is this thing?" I exclaimed. "You don't truly intend to give it to Mablung, do you?"
"It's called The Garden of Love, and it is a very famous Haradrim manual about......well, I'm sure you know what it's about. And yes, I intend to give it to him. Delyth will thank me for it, don't you think?" Recovering myself, and not wanting to reveal how much the book had shocked me, I commented in a casual tone that I could see where it might come in handy.
"In fact, you ought to have purchased a copy for Anborn as well. Then he and his wife would never have needed to speak of such things. He could have just pointed to a page."
That idea apparently appealed to Lorend's twisted sense of humor. I thanked him for his trouble on my behalf and left him still chortling over my remark, and murmuring to himself things like, "Tonight, page twenty-seven if you please, my sweet.".
Personally, I thought Mablung would take one look at that book, weigh the offense against the trouble of finding another lieutenant, and cut Lorend down where he stood. But that was not my problem.
*********************************
After lunch, I rode forth again with my grandfather, and spent a pleasant afternoon in his company. The next day was a quiet one. I went to see my horses in the Dol Amroth stables, and arranged to have the filly shod with light shoes to protect her feet while she was forced to tread the stones of Minas Tirith. While there, I was also measured for my uniforms and boots, and the dress that Lady Tirathiel insisted be made that I might practice courtly graces. That same afternoon, I ran into Damrod down in the fifth circle with some of his men, and we all went out to dinner together and told Ranger tales till quite late. I returned to my rooms to find that Elrohir had still not returned from Ithilien, and spent another disappointed night alone.
The day of Mablung's wedding dawned beautifully, with a clear vault of sky through which small fluffy clouds scudded. The wind was from the North, and cooled the City, and the air was fresh and crisp, yet not too cool. People went about their business in the streets cheerfully, and as the morning progressed, delicious odors began to waft across the courtyard, for the King's cooks were roasting the bullocks in huge ovens in the kitchen, and the doors were open.
I went out shopping early, and bargained for a nice little leather wallet with an attractive leaf design, to put the cow contract in. A stop at a barber's to trim my hair was accomplished, and another to the fuller to pick up my old Ranger cloak. I looked in upon Lord Celeborn at the potter's to find him busy throwing intricately whorled vases with the greatest of ease, while the potter looked on in stunned amazement. Pilara was napping on a blanket on the floor close to his chair, a rag doll clutched in her arms. Her mother informed me quietly that the little girl would not leave the elf-lord's side. The obsession had given the woman the first bit of peace she'd known since the obstreperous child was born, and she looked more rested than I'd ever seen her. I departed with the knowledge that at least one thing I'd accomplished since coming to Minas Tirith was working out well, though at this point there was the question of who was actually teaching who......
The ceremony was to take place in the early evening, and by the time I'd done my errands, it was near the hour to start getting ready. So I stopped by Elrohir's rooms, found that he and his brother were apparently still on the hunt, then returned to my rooms to prepare. Donning the green elven outfit and boots, my Haradrim necklace and my sword, I threw the Ranger cloak over my shoulder despite the warmth of the day, for on this one night, I was determined to be a Ranger of Ithilien again.
I came down to find the Courtyard of the Tree transformed, with tables all about the perimeter that were being laden with food of all sorts, and strings of lanterns. There were a couple of huge barrels of beer upon wagons in the corner, and another couple of tables off to the side were already laden with gifts. It was beginning to fill with what Lady Jerulas would definitely have described as men of the lower social orders, men who, one and all, whatever color of finery they were wearing, wore shabby brown and green cloaks thrown over their shoulders like proud badges of honor as I did. Men who had brought their sweethearts, their wives and in some instances, their children. Any courtiers who dared venture into the courtyard took one look for the most part and fled in terror.
I greeted, and was greeted by, comrades I hadn't seen since the retreat, and was so engrossed in that pastime that when I finally looked up, the sun was sinking into the West, the sky to the East was deepening to cobalt, and an uproar from the Rangers announced that Faramir had arrived.
He was clad in his beautiful green and black court garments and a blindingly white shirt. The gemmed circlet of Ithilien was set precisely upon his head, and there were no errant wisps in evidence. He was beautiful and perfect, and I was filled with love for him all over again, for over his finery he too wore his tatty Ranger cloak!
He greeted a few eager men, then raised a hand. Silence fell.
"The wedding party is on their way," he announced, "So if you will all assemble before the Tree, we can begin." Despite what he had said days earlier, he did not seem nervous in the least.
Much more swiftly and featly than when the King had commanded them at court, the Rangers formed up, leaving a aisle-like space between two throngs that led to the White Tree. Faramir took his place before it, and things quieted. Murmuring announced the arrival of the bridal party. I was towards the front, and looked back to watch as Mablung and Delyth and their families arrived.
Mablung was wearing the green and brown stag-embroidered ensemble he had worn at court before, with his Ranger cloak over all. Delyth was lovely in a flowing white gown, girdled with a belt of stag plaques, and wore her incredible hair hanging loose, garlanded with summer flowers. Mablung kept giving her stunned, sidelong glances as if he could not believe his good fortune. Their families came in with them, and I finally saw all of Mablung's formidable sisters in once place. The family resemblance was strong, which was perhaps unfortunate--Mablung's features definitely looked better on a man. Between his sisters, and Delyth's brothers and parents, there was quite a throng assembled before Faramir.
Mablung's oldest sister and Delyth's father gave them to each other, as Faramir spoke the words. Though it was the first time he'd done it, there was no hesitation in him at all, and in fact he was smiling, obviously enjoying the opportunity to provide this joyous service for his friend. Attending my second wedding in a little over a week, I was taken with how brief the ceremony truly was in light of the affect it had upon two peoples' lives. There was utter silence as Mablung and Delyth exchanged their rings and their vows, but when Faramir pronounced them wed, a roar went up that near rattled the windows of the Tower of Ecthelion. Musicians who had arrived while the ceremony was going on struck up a merry tune, and many of the Rangers surged forward to congratulate the married couple, while others strolled towards the food tables, to get the best pickings there first.
I went forward with the rush to the newlyweds, and situated as I had been, was one of the first to greet them.
"I wish you both every happiness," I said as I embraced first Mablung, then Delyth.
"Thank you, Heth," he murmured, followed by Delyth's somewhat breathless assent. Her cheeks were flushed and a hectic look was in her eye--prone a bit towards panic after the crisis was Delyth, I deemed. Which was, of course, far better than panic during one. As for Mablung, he was almost quivering in relief, having survived an ordeal he had been dreading. I then renewed my acquaintance with Delyth's family, and was introduced to Mablung's sisters, who subjected me to intense scrutiny, one after the other. I thought I finally understood why Mablung had chosen the army as a career, and why he had hardly ever gone home on leave.
Faramir, who had congratulated them first, turned to me and gave me a hug.
"So-did I do it right, Heth?" I returned his embrace with pleasure.
"I thought you did every bit as well as Mithrandir did the other day."
"Ah, but you are prejudiced in favor of Rangers, so I can hardly rely upon you for an objective opinion!" A final squeeze and he released me to speak to Damrod. I grinned and moved to greet another of my old companions as well.
The bride and groom and their families were seated at a table clad in fine white linen and set near the Tree, and food was brought to them, but the rest of us either circulated, eating while standing, or perched upon chairs and benches which had also been set about the edges of the courtyard. Part of the courtyard had been roped off as a dance floor, and already some of the younger folk were cavorting to the sprightly music. I noticed a couple of child-sized figures who were not children over by the food table, being handed laden plates by the Rangers, and grinned. Apparently, the wedding feast had proven too strong a temptation for at least two of the hobbits, Merry and Pippin from the looks of it, as they were the tallest of the four.
The sun had gone below the horizon, and stars were beginning to appear when there was a commotion at the gate. The sentries were reprimanding someone, but were apparently forced to give way because the next thing I knew, a wagon was being driven into the courtyard. It was a farm wagon, drawn by a pair of beautiful matched black draught horses, shaggy of fetlock and heavy of mane, and full of people clad in blue and silver garments. The horses had blue and white ribbons and flowers braided into their manes, and the driver, I suddenly realized, was Prince Imrahil. He was wearing one of those sleeveless brocaded jerkins the hobbits had made popular in the City, and a white silk shirt with his breeches and boots, and his voice was jovial as it rang out over the noise of the crowd.
"Captain Mablung, Mistress Delyth! If the denizens of Dol Amroth bring you a gift, may we come to your wedding celebration?" Mablung and his lady stood up, surprise writ large upon their faces.
"My lord prince," he called back, "You are welcome in any event, gift or no! But if you feel you must, there is a table for such things over there--" and he indicated the gift table.
Imrahil grinned his most roguish grin, and with a sweeping gesture of his hand, indicated the wagon and team. "I don't think it will fit upon the table, Captain Mablung!" His passengers were jumping down from the wagon--all three of his sons, Master Andrahar and the Princesses Lothiriel and Mariel. The ladies were wearing wreaths of flowers not unlike those being sported by the Rangers' wives and sweethearts. They all mingled with the crowd, save for Andrahar, who stayed by his lord, and Amrothos, who jumped off last, gathered a rather large and unwieldy bundle under his arm, and almost scampered off in the direction of the Tower of Ecthelion.
Delyth caught the Prince's meaning before Mablung did, grabbed her new husband's arm, and jumped up and down in place a couple of times before dragging him out from behind the table towards the wagon.
"Oh Mablung, look, he's given us horses, look at them!" She was almost to the wagon when she halted, her eyes wide with realization. "That's the harness you commissioned, your Highness!" Imrahil, handing the reins to an esquire who had appeared, as usual, from out of thin air, swung down from the wagon, and strolled over to the new couple.
"Well, I knew you wouldn't be happy with someone else's work, so I had you do whatever you would have most liked for yourself," he explained casually. "The wagon is yours also, of course--I thought it might come in handy. The team are brother and sister, gelding and mare, and the mare will foal next spring, so use her brother for the heavier tasks." Delyth smoothed a glistening black neck for a moment, cast an appraising eye over the wagon--then suddenly turned, threw her arms about the Prince and gave him a resounding kiss on the cheek. The Rangers roared with laughter, and the Prince smiled, giving her a paternal pat upon the shoulder in return. Fortunately, she remembered herself and came to her senses before lack of air became an issue for him.
Mablung, equally moved but less impetuous, announced his and Delyth's thanks to the Prince aloud so everyone could hear, then clasped arms with him. Imrahil bent his head close to Mablung's ear and murmured something which made my friend smile. Then he looked up and around, at the folk who were gathered about the wagon, murmuring in admiration at it and the horses.
"I could have sworn that the King said something in Council about the difficulty of finding enough beer to quench the thirst of the Ithilien Rangers, but I would see evidence of the futile attempt." There was another burst of laughter from the Rangers, and several people offered to guide him over to the beer barrels. He set off in that direction with Master Andrahar at his side. I hurried over to join him about the same time Faramir did.
"Well, Uncle," he was saying, "you've certainly made everyone else's gifts seem a bit inadequate." The Prince smiled unrepentantly.
""Tis not my fault if you do not know how to make an entrance, nephew! Hello, Hethlin," he greeted me. "You look very well this evening." I bobbed my head, the best I could do while in motion.
"Thank you, my lord. As do you. Is that not the latest fashion?"
"Indeed it is. Courtesy of Lothiriel, of course." I bowed my head in turn to Master Andrahar.
"Good evening to you as well, Master Andrahar." The Prince's Armsmaster gave me a momentary, chilly look, then an almost infinitesimal nod. Figuring that was as good as I was likely to get from him, I did not press the matter further.
We all of us found tankards of beer, even Andrahar, and sat back and watched the fun for a while. Mablung and Delyth went over to their table of gifts eventually, and exclaimed over them. When they found the parchment that announced that Faramir was building a house for them, their reaction was everything he could have wished for, and more--I thought for a moment that Mablung might actually break down in tears. Instead, he announced the generous gift at the top of his voice, and the Rangers all cheered their former Captain, and raised a toast to him.
It was then that we found out what Amrothos had been up to in the Tower of Ecthelion. There was a loud bang, and a flower of golden light blossomed against the darkening sky above the Tower. It was followed by more explosions and more blossoms of vari-colored fire--blue, green, red, silver and purple. After the first momentary start of fright, I watched enraptured. I'd never seen fireworks before, but I knew what they were. The hobbits obviously did as well, shouting exclamations of pleasure. I heard Mithrandir's name mentioned, and wondered if they thought he'd done some wizardry.
Faramir and Imrahil exchanged meaningful looks. "Did you know that 'Rothos was going to do that?" Faramir asked.
"Well, he left the house with this huge parcel, and asked me where the tinderbox was, but no, I never thought anything about it," the Prince answered blandly. Faramir stared at his uncle in disbelief for a moment, then shook his head sadly. After a moment, Imrahil chuckled, and took a drink of his beer.
When the fireworks were over, the dancing resumed, and as it was the sort of dancing I understood, and the company was one in which I felt comfortable, I quite indulged myself, dancing with Faramir, the Prince, Delyth's father, Mablung, Damrod, Anborn, and even Lorend, who had survived the discovery of his wedding present, though Mablung blanched and hid it swiftly away. I was not entirely certain, but I thought I might have seen Mablung's sisters with it later, all in a cluster and laughing amongst themselves.
I danced, it seemed, with practically every Ranger there, and Prince Erchirion to boot, and quenched my thirst between dances with draughts of beer. I wasn't drunk, but I was certainly not sober either. There were definitely others who were worse off. Damrod's rangers were passing around some bottles of an evil concoction they'd somehow brewed out in the woods. I saw the Prince sample it at least once, and shudder fastidiously. Barathen, from the Cair Andros garrison, who had kept our courier horses for us, wanted to dance with me eventually, and he was much the worse for wear from imbibing it.
"I don't know if that would be a good idea," I told him. "Even if you used to be stationed on the River, I'm not sure you're safe to navigate!" There was much laughter, and he promptly became the subject of much mockery from the Rangers, who claimed superior consumptive capacity over the regular army. This made Barathen only that much more determined to prove them wrong, and in the interests of preventing a brawl, I finally agreed to dance with him.
That it was a mistake soon became apparent, though I managed to avoid having my feet trod upon, and did what I could to avoid collisions with the other couples. But eventually we came to a point in the dance where the gentlemen spun their partners about, and there my luck ran out. He twirled me with rather more vigour than was necessary, and his hands slipped on mine at the height of the spin. I went flying out of the dance, trying to catch my balance, and my foot hit a wet spot upon the pavement where someone had spilled some ale. Windmilling backwards, I careened into one of the spectators, who grunted and staggered backwards himself, but caught me about the chest and somehow managed to keep both of us from hitting the hard stone flags of the courtyard.
My head was whirling from all the spinning and the drink, and it took me a moment to collect myself. There was laughter and jesting from the surrounding crowd, and I could feel the laughter vibrating from my rescuer. Barathen was apparently being escorted off to the side before he could harm himself or others further, to the accompaniment of much mockery. I looked down and saw that the warm arms about me were not clad in linen or leather or wool, but in silk. Turning around carefully within them, for they did not seem inclined to release me, I found myself nose to nose with my liege lord, who was by now near shaking with the force of his laughter, his eyes merry as they met mine.
"Are you all right, my lord?" I asked concernedly.
"I had the wind driven out of me, that's all," came his chuckled reply. "How about you?"
"I am uninjured, sir." I became aware suddenly that in turning about, I was pressed close to him, chests and hips together, and that.....evidence.....was in evidence. I started to turn red, and the redder I got, the more he laughed. But though he loosened his grip somewhat, letting his arms drape negligently about my hips, he still did not let me go.
"I claim a forfeit, my lady Hethlin, for saving you from the perils of your dancing partner!" he declared, the same light of manic hilarity in his eyes that I'd seen on the journey to Lorien, the night he'd told the bedtime story. I suspected that he might be more than a little intoxicated. The folk nearest us took up his demand, then it spread, until cries of "A forfeit! A forfeit!" were ringing through the Court of the Fountain.
"A forfeit?" I asked warily, torn between a peculiar blend of curiosity and trepidation. "What sort of forfeit?"
"Oh, the usual sort," he responded airily, and to my very great astonishment, tightened his arms about me once more and bent his head and kissed me. A roar of approval went up from the wedding guests.
It was not the genteel press of lips he had given me at the King's wedding dance. That had been a Prince's kiss, chaste and polite. This was a pirate's kiss, declaring intent to plunder, searing enough to melt my bones. Once again, there was a taste of wine upon his lips, which were firm and warm. His hand splayed across the small of my back, holding me snugly against him. I should have felt trapped, but I did not--this was Imrahil, whom I trusted would never hurt me. I tensed for a moment, then relaxed against him. Without my telling it to, my mouth opened further, letting him do whatever he wished, and he made a sound deep in his throat. The kiss deepened. His other hand was tangled in my hair, holding my head still, his lips never leaving mine. The dizziness I had felt earlier returned, this time probably from lack of air, and I surrendered to it, sagging against him, feeling my knees buckle. My hands clutched weakly at his brocaded shoulders. Kissing, I thought somewhat hazily, needed to be added to the ever-increasing list of things that the Prince did well. Very well indeed.
Whoops and laughter and calls of encouragement rose from the crowd surrounding us. "That's the way to do it, your Highness!" "Make sure you give 'im as good as you get, Heth!" "So THAT'S a Dol Amroth forfeit!" and other such jolly commentary came to our ears. Then I heard Faramir's voice somewhere close to us, a hint of disapproval in his questioning "Uncle?".
His inquiry was like a bucket of cold water thrown over us. Imrahil stiffened against me, and broke off the kiss, his face still close to mine. I watched appalled awareness of our situation dawn in his eyes, and embarrassment, and strangely enough, felt badly for falling against him and putting him in this position. His chest was heaving, fast and shallow against mine, his utter dismay palpable. "Forfeit claimed, my lady," he murmured after a moment, his voice shaken as I had never heard it before, and his arms fell away from me, releasing me. Our audience began to applaud, cheering lustily. I stepped back from him, a bit wobbly in the legs, and smoothed a hand through my mussed-up hair. My liege lord began to tidy himself as well, eyes cast down, not looking at me. He took a long, deep, shuddering breath, then another and finally a third, and over the course of those three breaths, I saw all the humor and passion and laughter and wild joy in him leach away, transmuting into princely reserve. It was actually a rather horrible thing to witness, and I had a sense from the swiftness with which he accomplished it that it had been done many times before over the years. I blinked, fighting a sudden weird urge to weep.
Looking about, my cheeks still pink, I found some people still watching us, but most of the others had turned already to other conversations and pursuits. A little way away, however, Prince Elphir, Princess Mariel, Prince Erchirion and Princess Lothiriel all regarded us with looks of puzzlement. As for Faramir, he watched us with the worry line prominent between his brows.
"I cannot apologize enough, Hethlin," the Prince said to me softly, his voice steadier now, continuing to set himself to rights. Somehow he seemed much more sober than he had been but moments before, though that might have been dissembling. "I fear that I was overcome by that rotgut the Rangers were serving out, and the festive air of the proceedings."
"That's quite all right, sir. No harm done," I assured him, though I was rather confused about what had just happened, and all the conflicting feelings coursing through me. "I should have warned you about that stuff. Strong enough to etch armor it is, I'll warrant. And mixing it with beer, as you did--not a good idea."
The Prince's answering smile was self-deprecating. "A poor enough excuse for the actions of a drunken fool. And the sort of thing that you, of all people, should not have to put up with."
"It was not so horrible as all that, my lord!" In fact, it would have been more truthful to say that it had not been horrible at all, but I did not know if he would appreciate that. I wasn't sure what he would appreciate at this point, other than perhaps a return to our normal relationship, or barring that, a swift escape. "You kiss very well," I observed, smiling at him and hoping to lighten his mood, but he shook his head grimly.
"You are kind to say so, but it is obvious that it is long past time for me to leave the party. I will just say good night to the bride and groom, and take myself home. A good night to you as well, child." I bowed, he nodded, and turned to walk away. Faramir started to follow him, but was forestalled by an upraised hand.
"Don't hover, lad. Andra will see me home. Where I will be all day tomorrow, if you wish to speak to me." We watched him go, Master Andrahar falling in behind him like his very shadow, then Faramir turned to me.
"Let's take a walk, shall we, Heth? If you are able." I glowered at him.
"I'm not drunk, Faramir, I just got a little dizzy from being thrown all over the place by Barathen."
"Of course," he agreed. "Shall we?" He gestured in the direction of the stairs to the ramparts, and I fell in beside him. "Are you certain that you are all right?" he asked solicitously as we reached the foot of the stairs.
"Of course. It was just your uncle, and he was simply jesting. A bawdy jest, it is true, but then there have been plenty of those this evening. He was only getting into the spirit of things." Faramir glanced sideways at me as we started to ascend.
"In the seventeen years since Aunt Nimrien died, I have never known my uncle to do more than kiss a lady's hand, in jest or otherwise. I certainly have never seen him kiss anyone as he kissed you just now. Whatever has come over him? And exactly what happened on the trip to Lorien?"
I was making my way carefully up the stairs, being certain to keep my hand on the wall, and well away from the edge, for despite what I'd told Faramir, I knew that I was a little unsteady. "As for what has come over him--I don't know that anything has. He has said more than once that he was a very wild young man. It stands to reason that it would not be that hard for him to remember how to be so again." I frowned as I realized something suddenly. "Though in truth, I may be somewhat responsible for this. While we were traveling, I got very tired of him talking about what an old man he was, and how he was past that sort of thing-- kissing and what comes after. I told him more than once that he needed to stop talking like that and to go celebrate our victory and have a good time. So perhaps I gave him the idea."
"I had no idea you had such influence over my uncle," Faramir commented dryly. "I am impressed." He did not sound impressed, or even particularly pleased.
"I did not mean it in that way!" I protested. "But we talked often about a great many things. He is very easy to talk to."
"I have always found him to be so," Faramir agreed. We reached the top of the stairs, stepped onto the ramparts, and he turned and fastened his most intent commander's stare upon me. "How badly was he hurt, Hethlin? Did the elves do something to him while he was there? He has been acting....oddly... ever since he returned."
Faramir in full Captain mode I had always found intimidating, and I had never before been able to hold anything back from him. But somewhere in the last few months, on the Pelennor or in Lorien or at Min-Rimmon, I had found new fortitude. Meeting his gaze squarely, I replied, "I cannot discuss his condition with you, Faramir. He has forbidden me to speak of it, even to his family. And as his esquire, I must obey. I suggest you apply to him for the details. But I will say that the elves did not do anything 'strange' to him that I could see. They were very kind and helpful."
He strolled over to one of the merlons, and leaned back against it. "What if I were to command you, as the Steward of Gondor, to tell me?" His voice was calm, but that undertone of authority was in it, the one that said he wouldn't take no for an answer. I grimaced, walked over to the crennelations, looked out over the City for a moment, then turned to face him.
"Then I would say that I hope you have renovated Lord Hurin's holding cells while you've been repairing the City." His mouth twitched, and he relented.
"Very well, Heth, I shall not press you further upon the matter! And I do appreciate your loyalty to my uncle. I know well the worth of it." I nodded, and we were both silent for a moment. Then he continued, his voice concerned, "Provided it is simply loyalty."
"What exactly do you mean by that?" I asked a bit sharply. He made an graceful, indeterminate gesture.
"Simply that I have asked what the Elves did to him in Lorien, but not what you did."
"I 'did' nothing to him in Lorien, other than learn to play chess and have some interesting talks!" I protested, offended. "Why would you think that anything untoward happened? You give neither of us any credit if you think that."
Faramir frowned. Time there was when that frown would have devastated my world. "Hethlin, Uncle simply does not do that sort of thing! Not at all! And if he did, it would not be casual! So I have to wonder if you haven't given him some sort of idea that you are interested in him. Which, considering that you are currently involved with Lord Elrohir, does not please me in the least!"
Astounded, I stared at him for a long moment. I had discovered in Rohan that I was capable of being disappointed in Faramir, and even angry with him. But I had never imagined the day would come when he could inspire pure fury in me. My arm ached with the urge to rise up and slap him hard across the face. But aside from all the history that we shared, one did not treat the Steward of Gondor so. Instead, I took a deep, deep breath, trying to quell my emotion as the Prince had done earlier, and leaned back against the merlon.
"In the first place, my lord Steward," and his eyebrow shot up at the chill in my voice, "your uncle has long since grown to manhood, and is in full possession of his wits. And while it is true that there was a time when his situation required that he be restrained and discreet, that is no longer the case. His children are grown up, and he may suit himself now. You and I are hardly the only people who were affected by the war--he had command of the City for a while, and fought bravely upon the Pelennor and at the Morannon. He has served well, and with honor, and if he wants to celebrate and kiss a girl at a wedding, then it is no-one's business but his and the girl's. I will remind you that he caught me, and kissed me, not the other way around! There was no harm done to anyone, and while I may have given him the idea about celebrating in general, which I have already admitted, I have never given him any idea that I cared for him as other than my liege!"
The feelings I had experienced at the King's wedding dance flitted through my mind, but since I had not intentionally relayed them to the Prince in any way, I felt I could rightly make that claim. Pale with anger, Faramir started to speak, but I cut him off.
"In the second place, you have no right to call me to account about this. You are not my commander any longer, nor my liege. We are neither kith nor kin."
"I am his kin." His face was shuttered and stern, and at that moment he very much resembled his father, who had always terrified me. But I was past caring about such things.
"And he is hardly a fool, and is old enough to take care of himself."
If I had not recognized the tone of voice in which I had spoken to him, for I had never used it before, I knew well the one in which he replied to me. I had simply never imagined myself the object of his wrath and disdain.
"Excuse me for thinking that I could presume upon our long acquaintance to express my concern over your actions."
I pushed away from the merlon, and moved to face him. "You were not expressing concern, you were accusing me of seducing your uncle! Since the war has been over, you are ever ready to think the worst of me, it seems, while you will forgive your deserter bride anything she does!"
That struck home, I saw, the blade sinking deep and twisting as well. He stared at me, shocked.
"You would speak so of Eowyn, and call her friend to her face?"
"It is nothing I have not spoken of to her face! And whether you wish to admit it or no, a deserter is a person who is given a post then abandons it without leave, and that is what she did at Dunharrow! I did not know anything about it until I went to Edoras, when I became curious about why some of the people there were angry with her. She told me about what had happened and then we quarreled, for I did not approve of her actions. We have agreed to disagree upon the matter and are friends once more, but it lies between us, and we are not as easy with each other as we had been."
"And are you so perfect then, that you have never made a mistake? Can you then not understand and forgive what she did?" His sarcasm was both scathing and elegant, but it did not move me. I was obdurate.
"Mistakes I may have made, but I have never failed in any charge you or any other ever gave me. And had I done so, I seriously doubt you would have been so understanding or forgiving with me." Lips held thin and brow deeply furrowed, he moved away from me to look out over the ramparts at the City.
"It is not the same thing, Hethlin."
"Of course not," I agreed, remaining where I was. "As the Prince has explained to me, Eowyn is the woman you love, while I am merely one of your soldiers. Perhaps something more than a soldier--you drew me from the water, saved my life, and made me a Ranger. I think because of that, whether you realize it or not, you believe that you own me." That turned him back around in a hurry.
"Where ARE you getting all these strange ideas? That is absurd!"
"Is it? Then why did you show your displeasure over my relationship with Elrohir just the other day? Why are you so disapproving of your uncle giving me a kiss? If he were truly attracted to me, which I doubt is the case, why should you object? My lineage is good, I would be a suitable wife for him on that account. Do you not believe your uncle deserves some happiness?" He did not answer, merely giving me a frosty glare, so I continued.
"When Elrohir used to behave thusly, I accused him of being a dog in a manger--having no use for what was in it, but not wanting anyone else to have it either. And now you are acting in just the same way! Lord Elrond has healed my childlessness, but I know well that will not change your mind about me. You do not wish to take me to bed or to wife, but you mislike anyone else wanting to. I am your charge, your creation, and you wish to control my life in all things--in much the same way as your father used to try to control you. You put me much in mind of him just now, my lord Steward."
He paled even further than he already had at that, and for a moment I thought I might have pushed him too far. "I think we may leave my father out of this, my lady. You do yourself no credit with your accusations." There was a frightening lack of expression in his voice, and his eyes were pure grey ice. I should have been terrified--I would have been terrified but scant months before. And in truth, I had no idea where the strength for this reckless opposition was coming from. Perhaps it sprang from my long-thwarted desire for him, or my irritation at his blind adoration of Eowyn.
But wherever it came from, it was continuing--"As you do neither of us any credit when you all but name me slattern, my lord!" Our eyes met and held, like grey steel clashing, and to my amazement, his dropped first.
"I think....." he said at last with some difficulty, "that it would be best if we ended this conversation now, or at very least continued it at a later date. A friend we both hold dear would have his happiest day spoiled if he were ever to learn of this. Good evening, my lady." He bowed to me then, something he'd never done before, but I doubted that it was meant as a gesture of respect--the irony was too obvious.
My head inclined in a fractional, unforgiving nod. "Good evening, my lord Steward." He moved past me and down the stairs, leaving me the high ground. And victory, of an awful sort.