71. Visitors
Three days later a messenger came to Dol Amroth with news from the King and his entourage.
Ada met the messenger in the entrance hall. I was coming down from another morning of trouble with the tengwar runes and some rather obscure Sindarin texts, as the messenger finished.
"…so they will be here within three days, some two hundred riders and three carriages, and about fifty servants and such, all told, my lord."
Imrahil heaved a sigh. "And how does the king think we will be able to feed that lot? We have been at war, too."
"At least we have sufficient quarters to accommodate them comfortably," Míri put in, calm as ever. More than every second fighter from the fiefdom of Dol Amroth had not returned from the war of the rings.
"If they behave in a civilized manner towards our girls and widows," Imrahil replied crossly. Then he held up his hand to stop her reprimand. "I know, I know. I should be glad it is only such a small entourage. King Eärnur used to travel with no less than eight hundred riders and a hundred servants. And King Elessar will see to it that they treat our womenfolk politely. It's only that I could have done with a little respite."
"How do you plan to greet the King and Queen?" Míri asked.
Imrahil tugged at the bow that held his long blond hair at the nape of his neck. "Well, we should ride towards them with a company of uniformed riders, or have a hundred boys with wreaths of laurel in their hair to line the road or something like that. Or that's what Gawin and Falanyon tell me. They are obsessed with the splendor of the days of the kings as they are described in our annals. I think it would be quite appropriate and fitting if I rode out to greet the King and Queen with my company of guards – fifty in number – dressed in their best uniforms. I would have it that you, Lothíriel, the boys and the Lords Elladan and Elrohir as well as the masters Samno and Gwaeren with their ladies accompany me. As I have not managed to dissuade my herald of his notions of lining up the boys of Dol Amroth, Falanyon can wait for us at the gates with his laurel-wreathed boys. The honor of presenting the cup of welcome will fall to Enho, of course. I suggest you give him a soothing herbal draught in time."
"Melethril-nîn, don't worry so much," Míri soothed her husband.
And here I had thought that Ada was completely unmoved by the agitation that had gripped the inhabitants of Dol Amroth during the last days. Perhaps he'd been only better at hiding his real feelings than the others.
"Thank you, Amdirion," Imrahil told the fair haired page that had brought the message to Dol Amroth. "Gawin will show you to your room and take you to the kitchen for something to eat."
Gawin and Amdirion bowed to Imrahil and left the entrance hall for the kitchen and servants' wing.
Imrahil raised his eyebrows and massaged the bridge of his nose with stiff fingers. He looked a little tired and more than a little annoyed. When he noticed me, however, he smiled.
"Well, Lothíriel. How wonderful to see someone who does not go on about the royal progress. How are your studies?"
I managed to suppress a groan. "To be honest, Ada, I would prefer talking about the royal visit to talking about my studies of the elvish runes. I manage to read and write my name, which is more than I could do easily last week. But I am afraid I am a slow and clumsy pupil. Mel and Númendil are both much quicker."
Imrahil smiled proudly at the mentioning of his sons. But his gaze was warm and kind, when he replied, "That is not what the sons of Elrond have told me. They tell me you are smart and work very hard. It simply takes more time to learn such things when you are older."
"Thank you, Ada. That means a lot to me." I said gratefully. And it did. A new brain would have been better, but Imrahil's comforting words lifted my spirits considerably.
The third of November found me on Mithril's back dressed in the silver trousers and tunic I had worn for Arwen's wedding. Imrahil, his sons and the guards were resplendent in the dark blue uniforms of Dol Amroth, with the tunics etched in silver, mail and weapons gleaming with a silver sparkle that matched the starlight. Míri wore blue, too, a silvery blue gown of heavy satin. The twins were back in their favored grey silk.
The mayor of the town of Dol Amroth wore black trousers and a blue waistcoat above a light blue vest and white shirt, a golden pocket watch fastened to the vest pocket by a golden chain. The mayor of the fishing village of Dol Amroth was clad in grays and more simple fabrics, as befit his lower rank, but he wore a dark blue coat lined in silver that showed his allegiance to Dol Amroth.
As we rode out of the gates of Dol Amroth fifty boys between the ages of five and ten filed out of the gates behind us. They were grouped according to their sizes with the smallest walking at the front, carrying a tray with bread and salt. The boys were clothed in blue and Falanyon had actually managed for them to wear wreaths of laurel in their hair. A group of harpers and other musicians with golden trumpets and horns were waiting up on the sentry walk of the town's walls, ready to add their music to the welcome.
It felt strange to me to greet someone I knew as a friend with such pomp and circumstance. But even I realized the political implications of the visit and the reception. This was the first official visit of the King to Dol Amroth. Imrahil had to put on a show that reflected the political power and the affluence of the third family of Gondor. The way he greeted the King and Queen, the way he received them and accommodated them during their visit was a statement about his own status in the realm. An expensive, trying, but necessary statement.
Only the sons of Elrond were aloof and removed from the political considerations of Gondor and the Gondorian nobles. They concerned only with the mysterious task that had led them to Dol Amroth and seeing their sister again.
I have to admit that I envied them a little bit for their detached view of the proceedings. At times I felt pretty much overwhelmed by the political undertones that accompanied every movement of the King and Queen and the reactions of their nobles. When I had read about politics in the Middle Ages back at school, I had always thought that politics way back then had been fairly simple and straightforward. Well, Middle Earth probably did not mirror the Middle Ages back on earth. Perhaps it did not even come close. Anyway, there was nothing simple about Gondorian and Rohirric politics in the year 3019 of the third age of Middle Earth. Nor about those damn runes…
We did not have to ride far to meet Aragorn and Arwen. They were traveling along the cliffs, coming from Edhellond. It was a cold, windy day. November is a grey month even in the south-west of Gondor. At least it was not raining.
Aragorn and Arwen were dressed simply, for traveling as comfortable as possible, in thick fabrics of a good quality, but nothing fancy.
Their royalty was evident in their bearing, however.
Aragorn had changed since I had seen him last. He was every inch the king of Gondor now, proud and regal. He did not need a crown for everyone to know that he was the king. One look at his sword and into his face was sufficient to quell any doubt. He radiated with a stern power that seemed to come from another time and dimension. Arwen had softened. She looked even more human than when we had parted. Her long dark hair was braided artistically and covered by a deep blue veil. Her expression was solemn, but her eyes were full of warm intelligence. Lord Húrin and Elphir – in his capacity as captain of the royal guard – rode with them, and the mayor of the free city of Edhellond, Master Daerion. It was the duty of the lord of the castle or the mayor of the town visited on the royal progress to escort the king to his next destination.
Imrahil halted his horse before the king and lifted his hands in a gesture of welcome. "Your royal highness, King Elessar Telcontar, I and mine would humbly beg your indulgence and invite you to my modest abode."
Aragorn inclined his head. "We are honored by such a cordial invitation, my lord Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. It is a joy to us to visit your beautiful town and castle."
Of course the invitation and the acceptance of the invitation were merely ceremonial. The royal progress and its stages had been assiduously planned long before the King had taken to the road. Nevertheless custom dictated that Imrahil had to act as if he had met the king by chance and was now very generous to invite him to his town and castle.
After the invitation had been made and accepted, the mayor of Edhellond and his company of guards in white uniforms took their leave. The safety of the King and his entourage were now up to Prince Imrahil.
On our way back to Dol Amroth I rode with Arwen and her brothers.
"I am so glad to see you, Lothíriel," Arwen said. There was a darkness to her eyes that suggested she had more to tell me when there were not as many people around.
"How do you fare, muínthel-nîn?" Elrohir asked, smiling at the queen.
"Very well, muíndor-nîn. Very well," she answered and as her gaze fell on the king who was riding at the front of the train with Imrahil and Míri, her face filled with a bright light of deep happiness. But under her eyes were deep smudges of fatigue. "But I do admit I will be happier still, when we are finally back in Minas Tirith. This journey is exhausting."
"See, tithen, you would not have kept up with the Dúnedain after all," Elladan gently teased his sister.
Arwen glared at her brother. "Dúnedain do not require the careful attention Gondorian lords and ladies do. Trust me, I would have kept up. However, I am most certain that you would have ruined the purpose of this journey. You have no subtlety." But then she smiled at her brothers. "Nevertheless, I am happy to meet you here. I need a brief respite from the dealings with those…" She trailed off and bit on her lip.
Those mortals?
I guess it takes time and patience to get used to humans. I grinned at my friend. "If your brothers allow me a brief respite from my toil and trouble with those tengwar runes of yours, I will make sure that you get some, too." I offered.
"Oh, yes, please," Arwen replied, relief evident in her voice.
Her brothers raised identical slanted eyebrows at me, but from their easy grins I rather deduced that I had a holiday coming my way. Oh, what bliss!
When we reached the gates of Dol Amroth, the musicians struck up a lilting tune, a hymn of welcome and blessing a good guest.
Aragorn and Arwen dismounted. We followed suit.
Enho approached with golden goblets of wine to welcome the high guests, followed by the two small boys with the bread and salt.
After a purely symbolic sip of wine and the ceremonial breaking of bred with the Lord of Dol Amroth, Imrahil escorted the King and Queen and the highest lords of their entourage to the castle. The large number of riders, guards and servants would be accommodated in the town and the servants' wings. Only really important personages got to stay in the castle.
The streets of Dol Amroth were lined by every man, woman and child that lived there or in one of the near villages, turned out in their best holiday finery. Garlands were strung across the streets and flowers were thrown down on us from the windows and roofs of the city. The musicians followed us, playing as they went. Noisy cheers went up as the King and Queen passed by, but many also shouted Imrahil's and Míri's name. Four tall guards in the livery of Dol Amroth carried a blue and silver canopy that was intricately with tiny swans and ships, holding it above the heads of the King and Queen as an additional sign of honor.
Finally we reached the castle.
Imrahil escorted the King and Queen into the great hall and led them to ornate thrones which had been made for the occasion.
Standing in front of the thrones, Imrahil raised his arms in a gesture of welcome. As the Lord of Dol Amroth it fell to him to speak the traditional blessing of welcome in the name of the Valar and Eru.
The blessing ended the ceremony of welcoming the King and Queen. Servants hurried away leading the various dignitaries to their rooms. Míri and I personally escorted the King and Queen to their rooms. The royal apartment was on the first floor of the castle, taking up the entire width of the western side of the building.
Hot baths were already waiting for them. Assuring them that they had only to call and we would do everything to make them comfortable, we left them to clean off the dust of the day's travels and change for the celebratory dinner of the evening.
I would never have believed it if someone had actually told me that I would find dinner and dancing with the King and Queen trying and almost boring one day. But without Eomer the glamour and splendor of the event was not as grand as it could have been.
Arwen was still tired from traveling and did not talk much. Aragorn was deep in talk with Imrahil, Elrond's sons and several other high lords of Gondor. So I found myself surrounded by a gaggle of noble ladies who did not measure up to the expectations Míri, Eowyn and Arwen had given rise to as far as I was concerned. They twittered and simpered and babbled in high girlish voices fit to make my head explode. I gave Arwen a wan smile. Perhaps she was not only tired from the traveling.
I only hope that the noble ladies at Edoras won't turn out to be like that.
Probably they are not all that bad, I tried to tell myself. You simply have to get to know them. And you cannot expect everyone to be a Míri or Eowyn or Arwen.
But I sure would like. On the other hand… they put up with me, too…
Nevertheless I was glad when the evening was over and I was back in my room. Even though the last weeks had been busy, there had been more peaceful moments than during all of the last twelve months. I had come to cherish those short moments I had to myself. There was still a lot to adjust to for me, now that the pace of events had slowed down somewhat.
I knelt down on the window seat and looked out across the sea. I love the sea. And I love the luxury of the clear glass window in my room. To be able to look out across the sea even on cold and windy days is paradise. The sea of night was dark. The sea was heavy, but as the clouds were thick and there was no moon the white crests did not show. For a while I listened to the comforting roll and rush of the waves down below at the rocky foundations of the cliffs.
I had been looking forward to meeting Arwen again. But now there seemed to be little room for taking up where we had left off, riding races and giggling about our men. Real life and all its problems were reaching out towards us unrelentingly.
Perhaps there would be an opportunity for a ride tomorrow.
"Aragorn, please," Arwen begged. "If my brothers accompany us, we will be as safe as we can possibly be! And I need to get away from this crowd." She looked at her husband pleadingly. Aragorn obviously wanted her at his side today, but he saw that she was at the end of her nerves. It had probably not occurred to him just how difficult the transition from a sheltered elvish life to the duties and responsibilities of a mortal queen would be for Arwen. Her two thousand seven hundred and whatever years were of little help to her now.
Aragorn sighed. "Very well. I know that your brothers will keep you safe."
Arwen closed her eyes in relief.
Imrahil raised his eyebrows slightly, and then quickly turned to me. "You take your own guards, iëll-nîn. And stay on the road."
"Of course, Ada," I answered, feeling once again a burst of happiness and gratitude at the knowledge of belonging to these wonderful people.
We quickly made for the stables and were out of the town, riding along the cliffs within an hour. It was another grey day, but again there was no rain, so it was quite enjoyable.
"I don't like the sea, Lothíriel, couldn't we turn inland?" Arwen asked taking a shuddering look at the wide grey expanse of the ocean.
"Sure," I said. "But this is a rather small peninsula. You can't really get away from the sea here."
Arwen frowned. "Just let us get away from the cliffs and the open view of the waves, please."
We turned to the hills at the center of Cobas peninsula. The hills, grown with heather and gorse and a few blue, gnarled pines seemed to be more to her liking. It was a fierce, rocky landscape that looked gloomy under the dark November sky. Our guards did not like us to ride up into the hills. There too many hiding places between the boulders and the underbrush. Too much shelter for anyone who was up to no good. But Arwen dismissed their misgivings. I was with her on that. We were far away from the mountains of the east and any remaining orc gangs. It was November and the seas were heavy. There was nothing to fear from the corsairs for the time being. There was nothing to be afraid of only a few miles away from Dol Amroth. We rode in a gallop up to the summit of a hill, Arwen shouting for me to hurry up, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with the joy at the race, when suddenly Elrohir reined in his horse.
"Wait!" He called out to us in a sharp voice. He cocked his head as if he was listening to something. Narrowing his eyes he turned to his brother. "Elladan?"
"Yes," hissed his brother.
Suddenly Elladan nudged his horse forward, bringing him between me and the hills.
Then it happened.
There was a whirring sound.
A thump.
A groan.
At first I did not realize what had happened at all. I stared at Elladan, my mind refusing to register what had happened. Elladan collapsed against his saddle, a black arrow protruding from his right shoulder.
I screamed. My guards were at my side in a blink, their swords drawn. Arwen had her own blade out; I fumbled for Tínu and clumsily unsheathed my slender elvish blade.
I looked around wildly, waiting for screaming black figures racing down to us from the hills.
But nothing further happened.
"Can you get them?" Elladan asked his brother, suppressing a moan, as he pressing his hand to the wound. Blood was flowing profusely down his front.
Elrohir's sharp elvish eyes were trained to a rocky ledge at the top of the nearest hill.
"No," he finally said and sheathed his sword in a fluid movement. "Let's get away from here. Do you think the arrow's poisoned?"
I stared at the elf, the shock of what just had happened only now sinking into my stomach as an icy lump. My heart thumped painfully. The sword was shaking in my hand.
Elladan moaned. "'Tis I think." Then he gave me a grimace of a smile. "But poison aimed to kill a human lady won't send me to Mandos, never you worry."
Then he fainted.
I gulped, nausea rising from my stomach. "Who was the arrow aimed at?" I asked, wrestling my sword back into its sheath.
Rhawion and Helmichis never turned their gaze to me, but kept their eyes to the hills, ready to defend Arwen and me against any attack. But Rhawion, a guard and officer of many years of experience, answered my question in a low, decided voice. "It was aimed at you, my lady. I suggest we get away from here as fast as we can."