Chapter Thirty-Four

Acceptance

Once in the street, I looked around, unsure where the stables might be, but certain they were below me. I marched down the tunnel to the sixth level, and was halfway into the descent before I realized I'd caught up Celetirmar as I went out. In the street, I once again looked about for a signpost saying "Stables, This Way." There wasn't one forthcoming.

What was coming, however, was a tall figure, striding past me down the street in the livery of the Guard. Relieved, I hailed him. As he crossed to where I stood, he squinted at my clothes and at my hair, blowing free, and then his face cleared. "My lady!" He offered me a combination bow and salute.

Rolling my eyes and brushing hair from my face, I stuck out an insistent hand. "News flies fast in the White City, but not quite fast enough. Lady I am no longer; esquire to my Lord Steward is a higher honor still."

He clasped my forearm, nodding. "I am called Dorion of Lossarnach. My lord averred he would not take another esquire." It was a suitably neutral statement, inviting a range of answers.

I dissembled, remembering Simbelmynë. "I do not claim to know his mind. Indeed, I scarcely know his city. I am in search of the stables even now."

As it turned out, I had been heading in the right direction, but Dorion offered to guide me, and I accepted. The stables stood hard by the southeast side of the sixth level. Only three others shared the building, which was tiny by Rohirric standards, with Simbelmynë. Dorion explained that only a few horses, chosen for their speed, were kept in the city.

"But this beauty could outpace them all," he finished, giving Simbelmynë a bit of bread from his pocket as I checked that both water trough and manger were full.

Satisfied, I offered her a few of few of my own caresses. "Yes, she could,' I agreed, deciding along with the mare that Dorion was all right. "She has carried me more than a hundred leagues in less than three days, and I will vouch for her in any race, against any steed."

The guardsman whistled long and low. "I am no judge of horseflesh, but that truly is a feat. Annaliss would know whether it sets a precedent or not. My sister," he explained, "is an errand rider. At present she is not in the city, but has ridden to Dol Amroth with a message for the Prince, my lord's kinsman."

I grinned. "I should like to met your sister, when she returns."

The young man looked down, chewing his bottom lip as if wondering how, or whether, he should say something. "I do not know," he began, sounding slightly strangled, "whether or not you have seen the wagons leaving the city, but, in any case, those who cannot fight are being sent out of Minas Tirith, which include most of the women, excepting those in the Guard or the matrons and drudges in the Houses of Healing."

I stared at him, wondering what he was trying to tell me. Had I missed something?

Dorion ducked his head. "You look none of those, my lady, with your hair down and in those Elvish clothes. You look- well, you make a man want to do things he probably shouldn't- that you wouldn't like. I can vouch for myself, of course, and my company. They're all good lads, but, well, the other soldiers. . ."he trailed off, reddening.

Oh. 'Oh.' Disregarding my horsy hands, I rolled up my hair and stuffed it into the back of my tunic, which I finished buttoning up and then tugged down over my hips. "Is that better?"

"A bit," he allowed.

I gritted my teeth. "My lord ordered suitable livery be brought to me. I shall wear that in the future."

He nodded and I nodded, and an awkward silence ensued, into which my stomach grumbled. Dorion lit up like a light bulb. "If you were to go and change, my lady, we'd be pleased to have you take midday with us. My company, I mean. The First Company. Lord Boromir's company."

I swallowed hard. Could I get through a meal with Boromir's men, warriors he'd trained and fought beside, who probably knew him better than I did? "I- I would like that. But you must none of you treat me as the Captain-General's lady. All of us serve Gondor in equal capacity."

Dorion shrugged. "Oh, aye."

That settled, he followed me back to my room, waiting downstairs while I trotted up to change. Livery had been left for me, and I examined it. There was a linen shirt to go under a mail one, with a tunic over all of it, black with silver embroidery of the White Tree. The trousers provided were fuller than my leggings, which I thought Dorion would approve of. I put everything on carefully, trying not to think of Boromir as I did so.

I had come to his city to aid his people, but this had never crossed my mind: camaraderie with the men and women who had served under and loved my lord. Father and brother I had expected, but I had to idea how to pass this test. But worrying would help nothing, so I put it out of my head as best I could.

Parting my hair, I braided it into two plaits, and then wound these around my head in battle-braids, as Éowyn had shown me. I stared for a long time at the winged helmet that lay with my uniform, and when I tried it on, it fit snugly over my hair. My reflection in the mirror did not look right, though, and the weight of steel made my neck ache, so I left the headpiece on the table. After shoving my feet back in my boots and tucking my trouser cuffs in, I grabbed Celetirmar and hurried to meet Dorion.

His face lit up. "You look city-born, my lady."

I took this as a sign of approval and fell into step beside him. Apparently, it was entirely appropriate to carry one's weaponry to meals. I also discovered that soldiers in Gondor left their helmets off unless on duty or under attack. Grinning to myself, I followed my guide down to the fifth level and the barracks of the First Company.

Three long buildings made of weathered white stone curved around the wall from the mountain to the north side of the gate. Dorion lead me into the second. Noise surrounded us, and the smell of food. As I looked around, my stomach turned over with hunger. Our entrance caused no noticeable lull in conversation, but a moment later servants bore in platters of food, and then everyone did hush.

Dorion found us a seat at one long trestle table, but our backsides had barely touched the benches before the assembly rose as one. Dorion pulled me up beside him. 'Ah,' I thought, 'the Standing Silence.' Boromir had explained this custom, the remembrance of Numenor, and so I oriented myself west with everyone else.

After a moment, everyone seated himself and began to pass around platters of bread and meat and pitchers of beer and wine. I forked food onto my pewter plate, splashing drink into my goblet. Dorion was engaged in conversation with someone on his left, so I put my head down and tried to eat.

My hands shook- my whole body shook at being surrounded by so many people, so many black-and-sliver clad figures laughing, talking, and jostling each other. I flinched as someone slid up against me on the bench, jerking my head up to see a woman perhaps ten years my senior. Her hair was pinned up much like mine, and a long scar disappeared into the collar of her uniform. She offered me her knife to cut my meat, so I took it, making an effort to steady my hands.

"Morwen is my name. I saw you ride in. What news to you bring?" She split my bread roll with me, beginning to eat while I struggled for an answer.

It was not fair, not fair of her to make me speak of him in this way. 'I will not cry,' I told myself. 'I will not cry. I will tell them what they wish to know.' "My lord Boromir fell thirteen days ago, above the Falls of Rauros. I was with him. He fought bravely and with honor against many foes, to protect myself and two others. Because of his death, we live. Many songs are made even now of his victorious death, and more still shall be made of the first son of Gondor."

I realized my voice had grown louder as I went on. The hall had fallen silent around me, and everyone was looking at me. I lifted my chin, unable to stop the torrent of words that poured from my unwilling mouth, like and yet unlike what I had told the Steward. "As life left him, I swore an oath: to seek his city and see her saved. Half I have fulfilled. In the rest I would ask your aid, that I might stand beside you against the darkness that would cover all. For Boromir." My hand found my glass, and raised it.

The hall rang with the shouted toast. "For Boromir!"

Morwen pressed my hand, and Dorion threw an arm about my shoulder, raising his own cup with his free hand. "Firiel, Lady of the White Tower!"

Not quick enough, I reached to cover his mouth, hissing something along the lines of "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

But the company had picked up the toast, so I gritted my teeth in a smile, vowing to put something slimy in Dorion's bed at the first opportunity. But even as I did, a hard knot uncoiled in my stomach. The First Company had toasted me as Boromir's lady and maybe, just maybe, I had been accepted.