Trust To Hope - Chapter
Twenty-three
Author: Novedhelion
Type: FP Het
Fandom: Lord
of the Rings
Pairing: Éomer/Lothíriel aka
Anhuil
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Not much here but a bunch of gap
fillers...sorry...
World's most patient Beta: Riyallyn
Disclaimer: They all belong to Tolkien. At least most of them do.
And I'm not making any money. Wish I was. I will probably be
accused of dragging this out again, but these are necessary plot
devices. Bear with me, here, please. And the small part with Cam and
Déor was mostly written by my beta, Riyallyn. Call
it...foreshadowing.
This one's for the
girls,
Who love without holdin' back;
Who dream with everything
they have.
All around the world:
This one's for the
girls.
This One's for the Girls
Martina
McBride
Edoras
The Golden Hall of
Meduseld
8 Urui, 3019 T.A.
The hour was
late when they arrived at the courts of Edoras. Weary from the long
fortnight's journey, Anhuil and Cam had stumbled into the chambers
prepared for them and collapsed on the beds, barely noticing the
beautiful Golden Hall of Meduseld in the dark.
Anhuil awoke
the next morning laying atop the covers of the bed. She had been too
exhausted the previous evening to even undress. Sitting up slowly,
she surveyed the room. Thick wooden beams ran along the ceiling,
beautifully wrought tapestries adorned the walls. Soft furs covered
the stone floor. A fireplace in one corner remained unlit, unneeded
in the warmth of summer, but there were tallow candles on the
engraved mantlepiece and a tinder box with which to light them. Every
piece of wood was intricately carved, from the solid beams to the
heavy wooden furniture.
Sitting up, the princess traced the
pattern on the soft coverlet with a finger, admiring the detailed
embroidery. Horses. This was Éomer's home. The thought crossed
her mind that somewhere under this same roof, he, too, was lying in
bed. Not wanting to contemplate that further just yet, she stood and
walked to the window, looking out across the city of Edoras, to the
breathtaking view of the mountains beyond.
A knock on the
door startled her. Glancing at Cam, who still slept soundly, the
princess cracked open the door. A maid who appeared to be not much
older Anhuil stood in the hallway holding a stack of cloths and a
small basket. "Begging your pardon, Your Highness. Éomer
King asked that I bring these to you. He thought you ladies might be
likin' a hot bath. I have prepared one for you, if you wish to go
now."
"That would be delightful..." The princess looked
at her questioningly.
"It's Fréa, Miss," she
answered with a polite curtsey.
Anhuil smiled. "That would
be delightful, Fréa. Allow me a moment to gather my
things."
Fréa nodded, waiting patiently as the
princess ducked back into her room. She reappeared with her clothing,
closing the door quietly behind her. The maid took the dress and
undergarments from her, insisting that she carry them to the bath
chamber.
Anhuil stole a glance at the woman as they walked.
Tall and broad shouldered, she almost towered over the petite
princess. Her blonde hair was braided down her back, but the loose
tendrils framing her face suggested it would be wavy if let down. Her
eyes were brown, but not as dark as Éomer's, with a sparkle
of gold in the center. Anhuil guessed her to be close to her own age,
but her matter-of-fact manner made her seem much older. The maid
glanced at her as she pushed open a door down the hall, smiling
shyly. "I hope you don't mind me saying so, Miss, but our king
was right. You are lovely."
The princess blushed. "Thank
you, Fréa," she responded, not knowing what else to say as
the maid left and closed the door behind her.
A long, hot soak
removed what she felt like were layers of dust from the road. She
toweled off and pulled on her shift, eyeing the rest of the
undergarments uneasily. The weather had been so incredibly hot that
she almost could not bear the thought of putting on several more
layers of underpinnings. The shift would simply have to do.
Sitting
down at the small dressing table, she ran the comb through the
tangles of dark curls. Her hands were poised to braid her hair up,
but as a last minute decision, she dropped the waves to her
shoulders, letting them fall loosely. Her reflection in the mirror
regarded her silently. The last several months of her life had been a
complete whirlwind, much of it out of her control. Somehow, Meduseld
felt...peaceful. Like coming home. Perhaps it was simply because she
was so tired of traveling, or just exhausted in general. But mostly
she felt it was because this was his home, and she belonged with
him.
Feeling she had tarried long enough, Anhuil stood and
shrugged into the dress, lacing the front neatly. She had always
preferred boots and leggings to the traditional wieldy gowns that
most women wore, with layer upon layer of hot, itchy undergarments,
but she had to admit a small part of her liked the idea of looking
feminine and pretty, especially when Éomer had seen her so
often in men's attire. As an afterthought she dabbed a bit of the
lavender oil on to her handkerchief and tucked it into her bodice.
She smiled at her reflection, hoping he would approve, and gathered
up her road-dusty clothes.
Dropping the bundle where the maid
had indicated, she headed back down the hall to the room she shared
with Cam. Her friend had awakened and was sitting on the side of the
bed. She looked up expectantly at the princess as she entered. "You
have already had a bath?"
"And I feel nearly human again.
Except that I am starving for some real food. I do not want bread or
cheese for a very long time."
"Well, I intend to take my
time bathing, so go on to breakfast without me. I will be there
shortly," Cam said, gathering up her things. Fréa reappeared
in the doorway, beckoning the blonde to follow. Anhuil stood by the
window, looking out at the beautiful landscape, lost in thought.
A
sharp knock on the door interrupted the quiet moment. "Lothíriel?
I have come to escort you to breakfast." It was Fenwick.
"Just
a moment, Mardil," Anhuil called out, not opening the door.
"May
I come in, please?"
With a yank she pulled open the wooden
door. "No, you may not. It is not appropriate for you to be in my
chambers unchaperoned." Over his shoulder she saw Neville, and
suppressed an urge to roll her eyes.
"Then come to breakfast
with me." He held out his arm to her.
The last thing she
needed this morning was a scene with Mardil. For now, she would go
along. With a resigned sigh, she stepped into the hallway and
accepted his proffered arm reluctantly. He smiled smugly, then looked
at her askance. "Why is your hair not braided?"
"Because
I choose to wear it down," she answered curtly as they walked
toward the main hall, Neville heeling like an obedient puppy.
Mardil
blew out an exasperated breath. "In Gondor married women braid
their hair, Lothíriel."
"I am not married, Mardil.
I will wear my hair as I wish." She flipped her curls over her
shoulder to emphasize her point. "And we are not in Gondor."
"I
thought you were the one concerned with propriety, not even allowing
your betrothed into your chambers," he chided. "Though I hardly
think propriety is a worry among those of the Mark."
Anhuil
narrowed her eyes. "Whether it is or is not is not relevant. I am
fully aware of what is appropriate and what is not."
"I
would not be too concerned, Lothíriel."
The princess
turned to face him. "Mardil Fenwick, I will not tolerate you
disparaging the Rohirrim in the castle of their king!"
Fenwick
threw back his head, laughing. "You call this a castle?"
"I
think it is lovely," she snapped, running a delicate finger along
the intricate woodwork as they made their way down the corridor.
"You would. However, I believe your fondness for this
rather..." he looked around derisively, "quaint architecture has
much more to do with its primary inhabitant."
Anhuil halted
outside the main hall and glared at him. "What is that supposed to
mean?"
"Only that your apparent affection for the King of
Rohan is entirely unbefitting a woman of your position, Lothíriel.
You act more like a giggling court maid than an heir to the throne of
Dol Amroth when you are in his presence. While I realize that your
betrothal to me is but a political opportunity, I do expect a certain
amount of decorum on your part." His eyes raked over her
suspiciously. "I believe there is far more to this tale of your
travels with these horse lords than you have been willing to impart.
"
The princess turned to Fenwick. "What I choose to impart
to you or anyone else is my prerogative. I happen to respect him as a
friend of my father's. He is a brave man, and he is king of this
realm. I daresay you should not risk insulting him in the presence of
his own people!"
"He is a peasant, Lothíriel. They
all are. Look at what they call a 'city'. It is pathetic."
"And
you will be fortunate if he does not throw you out and make you sleep
in the stable, Mardil Fenwick!"
"Why would he
care?"
"Because unlike you, Fenwick, HE is a gentleman!"
she whispered harshly.
"Who is a gentleman?"
The
question cut off whatever retort was on Mardil's lips. Imrahil and
his eldest son had come up the corridor behind them, unseen.
"Good
morning, Ada," the princess chimed sweetly, standing on her tiptoes
to kiss his cheek, but the attempt at distraction failed. He had not
missed the tone of her voice when she had been speaking to her
betrothed. Imrahil cast her a quick smile and repeated his question.
"Who is a gentleman?"
"Your daughter was sharing with me
part of the story of her travels, My Lord," Fenwick said, bowing to
Imrahil but keeping his eyes on the princess.
Imrahil studied
his daughter. A fleeting glare at Mardil and her smile returned
placidly. "Shall we, Ada?" she asked politely, sliding her arm
into his and motioning toward the hall.
Following her in, they
found Éomer awaiting his guests. Amrothos and Erchirion were
already seated at the table, but rose when their father and sister
entered. The king stood beside the table, dressed in dark colored
leggings and a longer deep green tunic, intricately embroidered
around the collar, his long hair spilling over his shoulders. Someone
had trimmed his beard; she suspected it was his sister.
Anhuil
saw Éomer stiffen slightly when she entered with Fenwick. She
had dropped his arm when they were arguing outside, and seeing the
look on Éomer's face, she was glad that she had.
His
breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. The rose colored
gown was a light linen fabric, gently hugging her figure and falling
gracefully to the floor. She had left her hair down, the ebony waves
cascading over the coppery skin of her shoulders. Their eyes met
brief moment, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly at his
obvious approval of her appearance. Reaching up, she brushed a strand
from her eyes and averted her gaze.
After greeting Imrahil and
his son, the king approached the princess. Taking her hand, he bowed
politely. "Good morning, Your Highness," he said, pressing his
lips lightly to her fingers. "You rested well?"
"I did,
Your Majesty, thank you," she replied sweetly.
"And your
accommodations are to your liking?" Éomer's eyes still had
not left hers.
The princess smiled, her head held high. "Very
much so. We were quite comfortable. Fréa saw to that."
"I
will have to thank her then," he answered, trying to keep his feet
as the scent of lavender from her bath surrounded him. He stepped
back slightly. The memory of Anhuil bathing was not one he needed to
dredge up at this particular moment, fond of it as he was. Now it was
Fenwick's turn to bristle at her side, and she couldn't help the
small look of satisfaction she gave the king as he rose and lifted
his eyes to Mardil's.
"Lord Fenwick, I trust you are well
also this morning?"
"What else could a man ask for but to
have the privilege waking to breakfast with his lovely fiancé?"
he responded smugly.
Éomer suppressed a smirk.
"Indeed," he agreed, with a sideways smile at the
princess.
Imrahil watched the exchange with interest. The king
turned his charming smile to his guests, motioning toward the table.
"Please, sit. I have much to do this morning but I would like a
good meal first." He started toward Anhuil's seat to pull out the
chair, but Fenwick beat him to it with a victorious smile. Éomer
only nodded graciously and seated himself next to the
Imrahil.
Amrothos turned to his sister. "Where is Camwethrin
this morning?"
"She will be arriving shortly. I am afraid
I enjoyed a hot bath so much this morning I took far too long, and
delayed her in the process." The glance Anhuil stole at the king
did not go unnoticed by her father, although she quickly turned her
attention back to her plate.
Éomer smiled briefly in
response and turned to the prince. "Lord Imrahil, I have several
things that must be attended to this morning, but there are some
issues I would like your advice on, if you do not mind," he said.
"I am certain my offspring can entertain themselves for a
while," the prince answered.
"I, for one, would like to
see some of the horses," Erchirion piped up.
The king beamed
proudly. "I will be happy to arrange that, Erchirion. I will
provide an escort if you like, to take you out to some of the
herdlands."
"That would be marvelous," Elphir put in.
"What are your plans for the day, Lothíriel?" her
father asked.
"I wanted to spend some time with Éowyn.
She says there are some things she would like to show me," she
answered.
Éomer glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. She
smiled innocently and continued. "I do not know what she has in
store, but Cam and I are supposed to meet her after
breakfast."
"Mardil," the prince asked, "would you
care to join them for a foray out to the herds?"
Fenwick
considered it momentarily. "Thank you for the most gracious
invitation, but I believe I have had enough of a saddle for a few
days."
"Very well." Imrahil drained the last of his tea
and stood. "I want to speak to one of my men, but I will return
shortly, my friend."
Éomer stood, acknowledging
Imrahil's departure. "One hour, in council chambers?"
With
a nod, the prince left the hall, passing Cam on her way in. Amrothos
saw her first, leaping to his feet. The other men followed suit.
Fenwick rolled his eyes. Why women could not all come to the table at
once was beyond him. He glared at her as she took her seat next to
the princess. The youngest prince was still smiling as he sat back
down, highly pleased with the view across the table.
Exchanging
pleasantries, Cam apologized for her tardiness. "It is all right,
Camwethrin," Amrothos replied. "Ani explained that she got to the
bath first. We all know how that is."
"Seriously,"
Erchirion added. "She takes the longest bath of any one I have ever
known."
The princess shot him a look across the table as her
cheeks reddened. If she could have reached him, she would have kicked
him under the table, discussing her bathing habits over breakfast!
"A small bit?" Elphir asked, incredulous. "She is spoiled rotten, my friend."
Fenwick snickered. Anhuil elbowed him so hard he dribbled hot tea in his lap, but never looked his way.
Éomer took a sip from his cup and looked over the top of it at her brothers. "Your sister is far from spoiled rotten. She can very much pull her weight when it is required of her, and even when it is not." The smile she gave him was all the thanks he needed.
Amrothos grinned. "Look at her, Éomer. Of course she can pull her weight...there isn't much to pull!"
Éomer nearly choked on the words. Look at her. As if he could do anything else.
Anhuil glared at
Amrothos. Cam gave Éomer a helpless look. "Do you see what
I have to live with?" she asked him.
The king laughed. "I
admire your courage, my Lady."
Anhuil turned to Cam. "My
only ally in a sea of male pride," she said teasingly. "I do not
know what I would have done growing up without Cam. Simply because I
sometimes dress as a man does not mean I do not think like a woman.
Heaven knows I get enough grief from Ada about what he calls my
'hoydenish ways.' He always says if it was not for the dresses I
do occasionally wear, people would assume Imrahil had four
sons!"
"Or five, if you count Cam. She is as bad as you
are for dressing like a boy," Erchirion added. Amrothos shot him a
severe look.
"I doubt there is any danger of anyone
mistaking either of you for a boy at the moment," the king said,
smiling over his cup at them.
Mardil rolled his eyes.
"Lothíriel, I am going to return to my chambers. I have
some reading to catch up on. May I escort you back?" Fenwick rose
from the table and made to pull out her chair.
"I am not
quite finished. Go on without me," she answered curtly.
The
dark haired man took a long breath, his gaze falling on the king.
"Very well. I will look for you later."
The princess
nodded but did not turn around as he left the room. Éomer saw
her relax visibly when the doors to the hall swung shut behind him.
"So, you two have plans with my sister, do you? That should prove
interesting."
"She has not said where she is taking us,"
Cam answered, "but she did tell us to meet her at the stables. I
suppose we should change and meet her there soon."
"We
should not keep her waiting," the princess agreed, rising from the
table. Cam followed.
Éomer nearly leapt to pull out
the princess' chair, with Amrothos practically tripping over
himself to get to Cam's. Anhuil's other brothers exchanged looks,
rolling their eyes. The princess leaned over the table, plucking an
apple out of a bowl. "I seem to remember Firefoot fancies apples,"
she commented, almost to herself, looking at the fruit
thoughtfully.
The king grinned. "I promise you, he is sworn
to secrecy."
Anhuil winked at him as she tossed the apple to
Cam, who caught it with one hand. "We shall see," she remarked as
she pushed open the door. Cam turned back and smiled over her
shoulder at Amrothos before following the princess out the
door.
Elphir stared at his youngest brother, then at the king,
shaking his head. "You two are completely hopeless, you know
that?"
Cam and Anhuil had changed from
their morning dresses into more appropriate tunics and leggings for
riding, and met Éomer's sister in the stables. She had taken
the liberty of having their mounts saddled, and before long they were
racing across the plains of Rohan. It had been a long time since the
princess had enjoyed that kind of freedom. She could almost forget
about Fenwick. But not quite.
Éowyn halted under the
shade of a tree near the riverbank, dismounting. The others followed
suit, leading the horses by the reins to the water to let them drink.
As they walked them to cool them down, the princess and Cam regaled
her with stories of their antics growing up in Dol Amroth.
Éowyn
chuckled. "You two sound much like Éomer and I. Théodred
was older when we came to live here. Éomer was only a lad of
eleven and I was barely nine years. Our cousin took it upon himself
to show us all the secret passageways underneath the Hall, and inform
us as to the best rooms for eavesdropping and the quickest way to the
kitchen to steal tarts." She laughed softly.
"Secret
passages?" the princess asked.
"Yes, there are many.
Originally designed by King Brégo as an escape route for the
royal family, should Meduseld ever be attacked. One leads to the
stables, another outside the city gates. But they also open up into
nearly every room in the Golden Hall." She cast them a mischievous
glance. "Including the room in which the two of you are
sleeping."
"We have some such passages at the palace in
Dol Amroth as well," Cam told her. "Ani and I used them all the
time as children to escape the guards and hide from our tutors. The
Citadel in Minas Tirith is full of them as well."
With a
laugh, the three strolled down the bank, talking for quite some time
before deciding to mount up and ride back.
In the stables,
they handed over their mounts to the grooms. The men's horses were
still out, and Éowyn had told them it may be a while before
they returned, depending on how far they went. Cam suggested some
sparring, an idea wholeheartedly agreed to by the princess. Excusing
herself, she went to retrieve their weapons.
Anhuil started up
the hill toward Meduseld, but was stayed by a hand on her arm. "Your
Highness," Éowyn began, then hesitated.
"Ani,
please," the princess interrupted.
Éowyn smiled.
"Ani, then." She paused a moment before continuing. "I wanted
to talk to you alone, about my brother."
Anhuil swallowed.
"What do you want to know?"
"My brother loves you,"
she said bluntly. "I do not mean to intrude where it is not my
business, but I fear for him."
Anhuil stopped. "I love
your brother, Éowyn. You have no need to fear for him where I
am concerned."
"I do not doubt that, Princess, but you are
betrothed to another. To hear Faramir tell it, dissolving such a
contract is next to impossible."
"Next to, perhaps, but
not impossible," Anhuil answered. "I will find a way, Éowyn.
You must believe me. I love your brother, and I will not marry Mardil
Fenwick. Even if it means defying my father."
"You would
risk that, for Éomer?"
"I would risk everything for
him." She grinned. "Besides, he has threatened to throw me over
his horse and ride away with me if I even think of marrying that
prat."
Éowyn's hand closed over hers. "And let
me assure you, Princess, he means every word of it. He would do so
without a second thought. Éomer is very passionate, and he
sometimes allows that passion to stand in place of prudence."
Deep
green eyes met blue grey. "I understand," Anhuil responded.
"I
do not wish to see him hurt again, Ani. Life has been very cruel to
my brother. He is a strong man but I do not know how much more loss
his heart can take."
The sincerity in her eyes bit down to
Anhuil's soul. She nodded solemnly, squeezing the White Lady's
hand. "I would never hurt him intentionally, Éowyn. You have
my promise."
The response seemed to satisfy her, her
grey-blue eyes sparkling.
Cam reappeared, her own blade
buckled about her waist and Ani's in her hand. "Will you be
joining us, Éowyn? I would so love to learn some techniques
from a true Shieldmaiden of Rohan."
"Would that I could,
Camwethrin. I have some matters that need attending before my uncle's
burial. If you ladies will pardon me, I will rejoin you at dinner."
With a wide parting grin, she headed up the path toward the
Hall.
The two women strolled down through the bustling town of
Edoras, making their way to the training field behind the
stable.
The sound of clashing steel caught the
attention of two soldiers as they approached the stables. Walking
around to the back, they were surprised to see two young women
practicing at arms.
The older soldier laughed, "Ah, the
women of Gondor now wish to be Shieldmaidens as well."
Haleth
gave his friend an odd look. "Do you not recognize Anhuil, Déor?"
Stopping in his tracks, Déor took a closer look. "You
are right." A slow grin appeared, "And look, she brought a
friend." His smile widened.
As Éomer led Amrothos to
the stables, planning on showing off some of the mearas that were
quartered there, he noticed several people gathering toward the rear
of the structure. Nudging the young prince, they headed that
direction to see what was causing the commotion.
Anhuil
blocked a wicked thrust and turned Cam's blade away. Stepping back,
the blonde nodded, catching her breath. "Very well done, but you
are..." Cam's voice trailed off at the sudden cheering that arose
behind her. A small crowd had gathered around the fence, Rohirrim
soldiers, Swan Knights and soldiers from Gondor. Casting a nervous
glance toward Anhuil, she whispered, "I believe we have attracted
an audience."
"So it appears," the princess muttered
and took in the faces surrounding them. Anhuil's eyes lit up as she
recognized Haleth and Déor. Grabbing Cam's hand, she pulled
her friend to the fence. "Camwethrin, I would like you to meet my
friends. Haleth," the young man grinned and nodded. "And
Déor."
Déor took Cam's hand and brought it
to his lips. Blue eyes sparkling, he kissed her fingers lightly. "A
pleasure, my lady."
Éomer and Amrothos rounded the
corner just as Déor lowered Cam's hand. The prince visibly
bristled at the display, quickly becoming more agitated at the sight
of her shy smile. He hastened his pace to the training field, not
noticing the smirk on the king's face as he hurried to catch up.
The king and the prince approached the field, exchanging
pleasantries with those near the fence. The tall soldier had not yet
taken his eyes off of Cam. "Your skill with a sword is impressive,"
he said with a mischievous grin. "However, I believe you could
benefit by training with a stronger opponent."
"Oh?"
Cam asked with a quirk of her eyebrow, not about to tell him she had
trained with three of the strongest opponents one could find; the
sons of Prince Imrahil.
"Let me show you." He leapt over
the fence and guided Cam back onto the training field. She looked to
Anhuil, who simply shrugged her shoulders, and leaned back on the
fence.
Déor indicated to Cam to draw her sword, and
then proceeded with his lesson. "You are holding your blade at too
steep an angle. A larger opponent can take advantage of that." He
stepped in quickly, pushing her arm and blade against her body. His
free hand stopped at her abdomen, fingers clenched. "A solid punch
here," he pushed his hand in slightly, "or a grab here," his
fingers slid around her waist, drawing her in tighter. "You would
be in a lot of trouble."
Haleth couldn't help but roll his
eyes at Déor's antics. He leaned over toward the king. "I
understand women find him fair but his ability to charm surpasses all
I have ever seen. Where did he learn that?"
The princess
giggled, sneaking a quick glance at the king. "I was under the
impression that it was a skill men of the Rohirrim learn from the
cradle," she quipped. "At least, those of you I have had the good
fortune to be charmed by." Éomer cleared his throat and
turned his attention back to the activity on the field.
Amrothos
braced his hands on the fence and cleared it, not even pausing to
acknowledge his sister. Anhuil grabbed his arm to hold him back, as
Éomer reached over to catch his shoulder. The blazing look in
his eyes confirmed her suspicions of the prince's feelings for the
admiral's daughter.
"Amrothos, what do you think you are
doing?" she queried, a slight smirk crossing her features.
"Who
does he think he is, questioning her training?" he replied, making
to break from their grip.
She glanced over his shoulder to see
Éomer grinning broadly at her. With a shy grin of her own, she
turned back to her brother. "I believe you are jealous,
Amrothos."
"I am not. It is just..." he stopped, his
stomach clenching into a tight fist as Déor's hand slipped
around Cam's waist.
Éomer leaned over to the irate
prince. "If Cam has half the training your sister has, she will be
fine. Déor means no harm, he is just having a bit of fun. He
is truly far more of a gentleman than I."
As if to confirm
the king's observation, Cam slipped her free hand behind her and
drew a knife, quickly placing the tip at Déor's throat. "I
believe the larger, stronger opponent would also be in trouble,"
she quipped.
Déor stepped back, hands raised in
supplication. "As it would appear, my lady. Still, a small exercise
does not demonstrate your skill against said larger opponent."
Cam
took the bait. "Very well, soldier. Draw your sword."
Princess,
prince and king watch as the pair squared off. Éomer stood on
the other side of the fence, moving behind Anhuil to watch the
action, surreptitiously stroking his fingers lightly along her back.
It took all of her concentration to focus on the match before them,
and periodically make comments to her brother.
"What is the
problem, dear brother? Are you concerned she will be injured? Or are
you more concerned your training will not prove adequate?" She
stifled her laugh as his gaze darkened, and couldn't resist one
last dig. "Or is the problem the fact that her attention is focused
on another man?"
The two were well matched, Cam's speed
and agility making up for his aggression and power. "I have to
admit, this is lasting longer than I expected," Déor
commented, more than a little out of breath.
She smirked, "I
expected a warrior such as you to have a bit more stamina." She
ducked under his blow, and glanced toward Anhuil. She did not expect
to see Amrothos there, nor the look in his eyes. Was that
jealousy?
The momentary distraction was all Déor
needed. Stepping in, he hooked her blade with his own and sent it
flying. Amrothos practically leapt from the fence, determined to end
the contest before the other man could. He froze in his tracks as Cam
brought her foot up, knocking the blade from the surprised opponent's
hand. While he was off balance, she caught his arm and twisted it
behind his back, forcing him to the ground with a kick behind his
knee.
She leaned in close, "Is this more to your liking?"
With a laugh, Déor conceded. "Perhaps not to my
liking, but I believe the lesson is learned. Never assume size has
anything to do with prowess."
Cam released her grip,
biting her tongue at the innuendo behind the comment. Déor
stood, as gracefully as he could manage. Turning to face her, he
noticed Amrothos' stormy gaze. He took her hand and pressed his
lips to her fingers lightly, lingering slightly longer than
necessary. "I have enjoyed our match," he said with a sly
grin.
"Have you? Most men do not wish to be bested by a
woman, especially in the presence of other men. I apologize for your
humiliation."
Déor grinned. "Considering the amount
of ridicule I am to suffer for this, would you consider a token of
compensation?"
Cam cocked her head to one side. "Which
would be?"
He stepped forward, still holding her hand. "I
am certain a kiss would be worth months of derision."
The
blonde chuckled, blushing slightly. "You Rohirrim certainly are a
proper lot," she chided sarcastically. "I barely know your name.
And now you beg a kiss?"
"Forgive my audacity. I forget
the customs of Gondor are more genteel." The look he gave her was
only slightly contrite. "Another time, my lady?"
"Perhaps,"
she replied, with a teasing smile.
"I bid you good day,
then." With a smirk toward the prince, Déor strode to his
companions, bracing for the jabs he was sure would be a long time
coming.
Cam retrieved her sword, and walked toward her
friends, a triumphant grin on her face. "Did you see that Ani? I
thought for sure he had me."
"By all rights he did,"
Amrothos' voice came over her shoulder, cutting off any response
from his sister. Her smile faltered as she turned to look at him.
"How could you allow him take your weapon?"
"I did not
allow him anything," she shot back. "Besides, I recall learning
the perfect counter from you."
"You never should have had
to counter. You lost your focus and in the process, lost your
weapon." The prince let his frustration get the better of him. "Had
that been a real fight, you would have been dead."
Cam
looked away, shocked at his verbal barrage. She noticed the crowd
that had been starting to disperse now stopped to witness his rather
loud criticism of her skills. Her cheeks colored at the embarrassment
of it.
"Amrothos," Anhuil's voice cut in. "I do not
think this is the time, nor the place. Besides, Cam handled herself
well."
"Handled herself well? She gave up her
weapon!"
"And defeated him anyway, in case you did not
notice!" the princess snapped back.
"She did defeat one of
our more skilled swordsmen," Éomer offered.
Amrothos
glared at him. He turned back to the blonde, surprised to see her
retreating back. "Cam, wait!" he called out to her.
She
stopped and turned toward him. "I apologize for disappointing you.
I will endeavor in the future to refrain from such actions, my lord."
With an exaggerated curtsey, she spun away again and stalked toward
Meduseld.
"You certainly could have handled that better,"
his sister snapped.
With a sigh, he looked at Anhuil. She
stood facing him, arms folded across her chest, green eyes blazing.
He glanced toward Éomer for support, but the king stepped
back, wisely keeping out of it.
"What was I supposed to do,
Ani? She made several mistakes."
"Did you have to call
her on them in front of an audience?" Shaking her head, she graced
him with a sympathetic smile. "Cam is a beautiful woman, and draws
more than her fair share of attention. And it is not like you have
given her any reason not to accept it." She paused, enjoying the
look of shock on his face as she let that little bit of information
sink in. "You do not handle your jealousy well, Amrothos."
"Not
all of us are blessed with your tact, sister," he quipped
sarcastically. "And I am not-"
"Yes, you are. Now, if
you wish to hold any hope of getting yourself out of this hole you
have dug, you had better go after her and apologize."
He
glanced to Eomer again, who held up his hands in surrender, not
saying a word. With a sigh, he looked to see Cam rounding the corner
near the stable. The prince jogged after her.
"There is a
shovel on the back wall of the stable, should you need it," Éomer
called after him. Anhuil giggled, elbowing him in the ribs.
Amrothos
ignored him.
Meduseld
10 Urui, 3019
T.A.
The days passed quickly. The princess
spent a great deal of her time avoiding Fenwick, sparring with Cam,
or talking with Éowyn. She did not see much of the king except
at mealtimes. When the opportunity arose, she spent time with
Celeborn and Galadriel, taking more notes in her journal.
On
the third day after their arrival, Théoden King was laid to
rest under a mound in the east side of the Barrowfield. Gléowine,
the court minstrel had composed a haunting song, and sang in the
tongue of the Rohirrim which moved even those who could not
understand the words.
As the crowds of his people gathered at
the mound, Anhuil noticed a solemn red headed woman standing back
slightly. She did not weep and wail openly as many of the women
present did, but stood tall, shoulders squared, her red-gold curls
lifted slightly by the small summer breeze. Something about the way
she stood so proudly touched Anhuil, especially when she saw a single
tear slide down the woman's fair cheek. When the princess turned to
find her again, she was gone.
Never had there been such a host
in Meduseld. As the guests from every corner of Middle Earth gathered
in the Golden Hall for the feast, Éowyn brought to her brother
a cup. Bidding the guests to stand as Gléowine honored each of
the former kings of the Rohan, ending with Théoden. Éomer
made a toast to Théoden, draining his cup, and when the cups
were refilled, all hailed Éomer as their new King. When he
raised his cup, his eyes met Anhuil's, her smile more precious to
him than all the treasures of the Mark.
Éomer stood,
calling Éowyn and Faramir to stand before him, announcing
their betrothal before their guests. As he lifted his cup to them, he
looked back at Anhuil, their gaze meeting. She belonged here. It
should be his own betrothal he was announcing. And one way or
another, he would make that happen.
Revelry continued far
late into the night. With so many crowded around the new king, Anhuil
thought it best to keep her distance. She was amused by the two young
hobbits singing and dancing on tables. And from the way Amrothos was
monopolizing Cam's attention, she figured he would be fit to be
tied if she interrupted. The crowds and noise becoming a bit too
much, she headed for a door to get some air.
"Where are you
going, Lothíriel?"
"Only to get some air, Mardil,"
she said flatly.
"Would you care for some company?"
"No
thank you. I just wish to be alone." She shoved open the heavy
door. Fenwick glanced around, noting that the king was deep in
conversation with the prince and King Elessar. Shrugging, he rejoined
the raucous group at the table.
Returning from
outside, Anhuil found Cam sitting at a table with her brothers and
the Elves, all laughing at something Elladan had said. She slid on to
the bench beside Cam. "I see you two came to an accord," she said
to her friend, indicating Amrothos. Cam only smiled shyly, but it was
all the answer the princess needed. She beamed at her friend. "I
think I am turning in."
The blonde turned to her, blue eyes
wide. "Already? It is early yet, Ani. Come on, have another ale and
stay with us." She turned to one of the tall, dark haired Elves at
the end of the table. "Hey, Elrohir...pass another mug down here if
you please." He grinned and nodded. Facing Ani, her brows furrowed.
"Where have you been, anyway?"
"I went for a walk, ran
into an old friend." The princess smiled.
"An old friend?
In Edoras?"
"When I was working in the Houses of Healing,
I met a young woman named Eolindë. I saw her outside, and we
talked a while." She rubbed her forhead with her fingertips. "I
am very tired, Camwethrin."
"Come on, Ani...one ale,"
Cam beseeched her.
Elrohir set the tankard in front of her,
flashing a wide grin of perfect teeth. The princess shook her head.
Elves. No one should be that beautiful, she thought. She returned the
smile. "Hannon le."
"Nad dithen, híril nín,"
he answered.
Anhuil sighed, leaning over to Cam. "How do you
tell them apart?"
The blonde shrugged. "I have no idea. I
just call a name and see which answers." The two women exchanged
glances and giggled. The princess visited with them for a while,
finishing the one drink as promised, then headed off to bed. The
noise of the Golden Hall still buzzing in her head, she was fast
asleep almost as soon as her head hit the
pillow.
Meduseld
14 Urui, 3019 T.A.
At sunrise a few days later, the Elves of
Rivendell and Lothloríen prepared to leave, saying their
goodbyes. The king bowed to The Lady of the Wood and kissed her
hand.
Galadriel looked into his eyes. "Do not be troubled,
young King of the Mark. Your reign shall be long and blessed." She
glanced at the princess, who was saying her goodbyes to the Elf
brothers. "The House of Eorl the Young will endure." Her gaze
returned to the king. She drew her hand from his, placing it gently
on his cheek. "It is determination, not fate, that makes ones
dreams a reality." At his confused expression, the Lady laughed.
"You will understand, my young friend." Her enigmatic smile did
little to quell his vexation.
Lord Celeborn stepped forward.
"We are most grateful for the hospitality that the house of Eorl
has extended," he said, grasping the king's hand. "If ever the
favor need be returned, you are most welcome in Lothloríen as
well."
Éomer nodded, continuing his farewells among
the other guests.
The brothers Rumil and Orophin kissed the
hands of Cam and Anhuil. "We have enjoyed your company," Orophin
said, as they mounted up. "If you are ever so inclined we would
love to show you our home in the trees."
"Perhaps someday
we will journey there," Cam smiled. "Ani and I have long been
seekers of adventure."
"You are always welcome in Dol
Amroth as well, mellinamin, should you ever decide to venture to the
sea." Amrothos chuckled as he shook their hands.
The
brothers laughed. "Nîn velui a lalaith veren nalú
en-agovaded vín," Rumil called to them.
Fenwick
stood with Neville, glaring at his fiancé as she spoke to the
Elves. Neville glanced at him, noting his dour expression. He looked
up as the white steed of the Lady of the Wood suddenly appeared in
front of him. Without a word, she looked at him. He felt as if she
were looking straight through him. She spoke not a word, but her
voice was clear in his head.
"Mardil Fenwick, I see what is
in your heart. I know what it is you seek. Those who use others for
their own purposes will find they are often used themselves. Take
care in your alliances, Mardil Fenwick. Those with whom you associate
often reveal your true character."
She turned her mount away
from him, and galloped off to catch up with her husband, not looking
back.
"Elf witch," he muttered under his breath.
"What
was that about?" Neville stared after the beautiful Elf
queen.
"Nothing," Mardil answered, his hand at his own
throat. "Nothing at all."
Hannon le -
thank you
Nad dithen, híril nín - it is a small
thing, my lady (kinda like "no big," in Sindarin)
Nîn
velui a lalaith veren nalú en-agovaded vín - Sweet
water and light laughter until next we meet