With a White Rose
As the light of Arnor began its daily climb, the jagged silhouette of the Ered Nimrais blazed against dawn's embrace. The lands below were roused from their slumber as those who dwelt within the shadow of the White Mountains rose to begin their day. Horses were turned out to pasture. Cattle were brought in for feeding. Fasts were broken after morning chores had been accomplished.
In the kitchen of a small stone cottage on the outskirts of Ethring there sat a young mother breastfeeding her three-month-old son. Though still weary from the babe's nightly stirrings, she could not help smiling as she gazed upon the small life she held in her arms. He was still such a miracle to her. Born as war had ravaged the land, he had been her hope for the future amidst the fiery host of darkness that had so recently threatened not just Gondor, but all of Arda. He was still her hope.
It was to this simple scene that Meril was greeted with upon arriving at her sister-in-law's home. "You look tired dear," she said as she leaned in over the split door. "The boy's been keeping you up then?" she inquired rhetorically.
Eirien smiled as she answered. "Yes, I suppose he has. But then, tis not my fault he inherited his father's lungs!"
"Aye, he could have inherited your father's. And then he'd be waking the whole town and not just this house of a night! Don't forget, I've heard your father bellow at your brothers. For that matter a goodly portion of Southern Gondor has heard your father hollering at one time or another," Meril teased.
"Then I believe we all have the best of it," she concluded as she stood to settle the now slumbering child within a simple blanket lined basket. Straightening her gown as she turned, she asked, "Are you sure you don't mind? The patch I'm tending is just in the north field and I'm sure to hear him cry when he wakes but…" her voice trailed off as she smiled chagrined. "It's just, well…I worry."
Smiling at the younger woman, Meril nodded her understanding. "Tis the way of all first time parents. It gets easier; I promise. Now off with you! The sooner you're off, the sooner you're back!" She knew the errand Eirien had in mind for the morning, but if the lady did not wish to speak of it, she would hold her own council…for now.
Pausing only to lightly brush the downy hair upon her son's head, Eirien quickly exited the house through the half door as Meril entered. She had prepared everything the night before and had only to gather her trowel and the plants she had cultivated indoors through the long grey winter. The last frost had come and gone and the time for seeding new life was upon them.
The morning dew dampened the bottom of her burgundy skirt as the young woman walked the length of the grassy field. Wildflowers of blue, yellow, and white had begun their ascent, reaching forth with leafy fronds towards the bright rays above, anxious to wash the land in their bold hues. Though she loved the flowers, Eirien knew she would have to see about hiring extra help if she was to get this field planted. It had lain fallow for two seasons and was now ripe for planting.
Sighing softly to herself, she added that to the growing list of tasks she needed to attend to. But not just yet. She had one far more important undertaking to accomplish before turning to practical matters. Arriving at the edge of a stand of trees that served to mark the northern boundaries of their property, Eirien frowned, as she took a moment to visually survey the area before choosing the location for the new greenery. It was far more overgrown than she'd expected it to become in the short time she'd left it be...
Rínir had been waiting within the shadow of those same trees all morning for her arrival. He had known she would come. A gentle smile lit his face as he gazed upon her form while she contemplated her task from a distance. Laugh lines crinkled the skin at the corners of his grey eyes as he chuckled at her stance. The look of consternation upon Eirien's face was much like that seen upon the faces of young recruits in the early days of their training, such ferocity and determination.
The young man in the worn Ranger's uniform approached and settled himself upon a large granite outcropping. "You do know that a starring match will not help you subdue the land any easier. Or are you actually deep in prayer to Yavanna in hopes she will help you tame this rugged patch of earth?"
In the end, Eirien decided to let the course of her planting be determined by the land itself. Only one piece would she set in particular. "Yavanna would indeed be a help for this task. 'Tis too bad she is never around when one is in need," she spoke quietly. "Watching is so much easier than helping, is it not? But then you never were much of a farmer, were you," she asked rhetorically.
Raising a single eyebrow at his lady's words, he replied succinctly. "I do not recall that ever having been a difficulty for you in the past. In fact, I do believe I recall words…something to the effect of rather enjoying the sight of a gentleman in uniform."
As she knelt to work, the image of Rínir's reaction was quite clear in the mind's eye of the lady in question. She smiled broadly at it as she dug into the soft earth. "Yes, the uniform always suited you so. And I'd not have you exchange sword for plow. That was never your path to walk. But you did marry a farmer's daughter and thus this land as well." As an afterthought, she added with a chuckle, "Poor man."
"I would have been a poorer man, indeed, had we never met. Had I never known the softness of your lips, the warmth of your gaze, the kindness of your heart," he replied.
She sat back thoughtfully as she paused in her work, relaxing into a cool gust of wind. "My love, I have not the words. I never have. Words were a talent you brought with you from the libraries of your great city." A smile shone in her eyes as she continued, "Mayhap one day your son will study there as well. And in his turn woo a lady with the skillful turn of a phrase."
Digging back into her work, Eirien focused on completing her planting. It would only be a matter of hours before her babe woke to demand his mother's undivided attention. Rínir, for his part, was content to sit in silence and watch his lady at work. There was a companionship to be found in the quiet that few understood. Perhaps it had been his training as a Ranger that gifted him with this knowledge. He wondered what had taught her.
The couple remained thus, undisturbed until the shrill, unhappy cry of a hungry child rose from the house, cutting easily through the sounds of birds and livestock nearby. Breaking their companionable state, Eirien spoke. "That would be your son in need of his luncheon, I expect." With a few deft movements, she finished tucking the earth around the roots of a white rose. Or so it would be when it bloomed by month's end.
As Eirien stood, she brushed the dark soil from her hands onto her apron. It had been a good morning's work. One she was both content and sorrowed to have finished. Flowers now surrounded the soft grassy mound which held the remains of her husband. Though she wasn't particularly sure it would have been his choice, the effort of it had made her feel…closer to him again somehow, if only for the moment. It was foolish, she knew, but at times she swore she could almost hear his voice whisper along the wind.
'Certainly naught but a flight of fancy,' she thought regretfully. Kneeling again briefly she kissed the earth-stained tips of her fingers and brushed them over the head of the grave. "Navaer, Meleth nín," she whispered softly into that same breeze before she again stood and left to answer her son's call.
Grief filled Rínir's grey eyes as he watched his wife leave. It had been six months to the day since he fell in battle. Yet his Fëa had lingered here, unwilling to depart. His heart had told him she would come this day. So he too had come, arriving at dawn to await her.
Though she had not disappointed him in her arrival, the sight of her departure was another matter. He watched with longing the gentle sway of her hips, her wind tossed inky locks as they floated upon a light breeze, as she returned to their home and a son he would never know…could never know. The journey of their lives was still a long road to travel. Perhaps, he thought, it was time to finish his own.
Rising from his seat, Rínir turned his face towards the warmth of Arnor, a warmth he now only felt in memory. Without hesitation, nor glance behind, he strode off across the rippling verdant field, his form fading with each step. In time, he would meet his beloved again beyond the circles of this world. Of this he was certain…