89. Bliss and Plight

Mistress Gosvintha was impressive in her wrath. She stood straight-backed, tight-lipped, her dark eyes were blazing. Her grey gown and pale grey apron were immaculate and looked like a uniform. She was the general of the household and even the guards were trying to fade back into the shadows between the columns of the Golden Hall.

Lady Elaine of Tarnost, however, was not impressed. She was taller than Mistress Gosvintha, and thinner, a woman in her best years. Her jaws were set. Her grey eyes had acquired sapphire sparkles – the sure fire sign of temper building up for an eruption that would make the Orodruin proud.

I suppressed the urge to turn around and try to catch sight of my sister-in-law: searching for a haughtily raised eyebrow or a slight smirk curling her wide lips to tell me what to do in yet another situation I felt at a loss with.

But Éowyn was gone. She had returned with Faramir to the green hills of Ithilien, leaving me to my king and my country.

I turned my attention back to the problem at hand.

"He should have his hand seen to. And I am supposed to be the healer here now." The Lady of Tarnost was saying, her voice icy and clear.

"If he does not want to have his hand looked at, that's his business," Mistress Gosvintha retorted.

Lady Elaine was indeed supposed to be the resident healer now. And she had started out with summoning the entire household to her office to get to know their state of health. This summons had not sat well with more than one, especially with Mistress Gosvintha. But Mistress Gosvintha had come to the office of the Lady and told her exactly what she thought of this summons – as the one who had been responsible for the health of Meduseld's residents before the arrival of the new queen and her entourage. I don't think she said something quite as rude as "shove that summons…". But it was enough.

At first the ensuing rivalry between the lady and the mistress had comforted me in a strange way. It reassured me that the Lady Elaine was only human, too, and that perhaps there were no dark plots on her mind after all.

Also, I did get along with Mistress Gosvintha with no problems. Míri had taught me well. I knew enough of the affairs of a household of the size of Meduseld to be able to answer Mistress Gosvintha's questions to her satisfaction. I think the formidable Rohirric major domo also liked the fact that I did not pretend to know everything. I had made it a rule to ask her advice right away when I was stuck with something. So, for the time being, I was in Mistress Gosvintha's good graces. And happy to be there, too.

"It is my duty to look after the health and well-being of every member of the household," Elaine replied.

"But it is not in your power to order everyone of this household around whenever you please, my lady," was Gosvintha's scathing reply.

"But it is…"

"My hand does not need any treatment, my lady. But thank you for your concern," the harper's voice was gravelly and held an undertone of – if I hadn't known better, I would have said – darkness, dread, a threat?

It was sufficient, however, to make both women back away.

But before I could heave a sigh of relief, Elaine's gaze was caught by yet another object of annoyance. The boy.

"I think I have not yet had a look at that boy, yet, either," she said. "Perhaps I could do so now?"

She turned back to the harper who had resumed his conversation with Éomer. I opened my mouth to stop her, but before I got around to saying something, she had already interrupted the discussion of the king and his minstrel once more.

"What is the boy's name did you say? And where did you get him?"

The bard turned around. His eyes were colder than ice, but at the same time a deadly fire seemed to blaze in their depths. The boy, realizing that we were talking about him, shrank back against the column where he was waiting with his master's harp and staff. The harper ignored the boy, as he replied, "He came with me down from the mountains in the Westfold. I don't think he knows his name."

"You don't know his name?" Elaine stared at the old man incredulously. I admit that in that instance I was confounded, too. I don't think that I simply stood there, gaping. Oh, hell. I probably did stand there… gaping.

"But how could you simply take him away from his home, if you don't even know his name?"

Good question. But you did not ask that old man questions. It was something everyone seemed to realize. Everyone, except Elaine. No questions, and steer clear of him. Leave him and his secrets the f… alone. What was the matter with Elaine these days?

The harper's voice was rough and forbidding as he answered. "He did not belong there. He will be a singer. His name will be his own."

Elaine opened her mouth to reply, I opened my mouth to silence her, and Éomer finally spoke up with ill-concealed irritation in his voice.

"Lothíriel, could you take this matter out of this hall? There are other things I have to deal with right now!"

"Yes, of course," I answered, my voice wavering. "Elaine, Gosvintha, let's go to my study, please. You –" I turned to the boy. "Would you please come with us? Don't be afraid. We won't hurt you!" I tried to smile at the child. It was probably more a grimace than a smile. But the boy walked towards me.

I curtsied quickly to Éomer and the minstrel. "My lords."

A curt nod and we were allowed to go.

As I left the hall in front of the others I felt tears of embarrassment and anger burning in my eyes. Éomer had changed in the year of our betrothal. He was king now. First and foremost he was king. The politics and decisions that kept the realm in order and our people safe took precedence to everything else. He also had a natural talent to use the symbols of power that are ingrained in the daily dealings of a royal court to his advantage. A cat-fight between the first lady-in-waiting of the queen and the major-domo of the royal household along with an argument with a mysterious minstrel were obviously not going to work for him there. Such silliness simply could not be allowed to interfere with matters of real importance. Therefore I had better go and deal with it. Quickly.

I did understand that. What I hated was that there was never any privacy to anything that went wrong. And something went wrong every day. And although Éomer never really looked at me, when something like this had to be resolved and he had a cool-friendly manner of asking me as the queen to handle this or that, to me it felt like a public humiliation. I knew it wasn't. Not really. But it felt that way.

And now I had had enough.

When we reached my study, I turned to Elaine and Gosvintha. I glared at them as imperiously as I could. My voice was cold. When I get really angry, my voice always gets cold.

"My ladies, whatever there is between you, it stops now. Now! Lady Elaine is an excellent healer, Mistress Gosvintha, and we can count ourselves lucky that we have her here in Edoras. I expect you to assist her in the matters of her craft. – Lady Elaine, Mistress Gosvintha has been the head of the inner workings of this household for almost thirty years. She is major domo of Meduseld and I hope she will remain that for many years yet. I expect you to listen to her advice on matters concerning the household and its members. That's all I have to say about this. And I don't want to hear another word about this matter."

I turned away from them and knelt down in front of the boy who stood trembling next to my desk. He was probably five years old, certainly not older than seven, and from the cast of his features I rather thought that he was only intimidated by the still new surroundings and not really timid by nature. Trying to pronounce the Rohirric words as clearly as possible, I turned to the child.

"Hello, little singer. Now, don't be afraid. Nothing will happen to you. Do you have a name?"

He nodded. But he did not answer.

I felt a smile tickle the corners of my mouth. "Would you tell me your name?"

"Mæte," he whispered.

"But that's –" I silenced Elaine with a frown.

"Do you remember any other name?" I asked the boy. "Because you will quickly outgrow 'Mæte'." 'Mæte' means 'small' in Rohirric. It's what a father or a mother will call their youngest before they reach their seventh year and become apprenticed in a craft, or are expected to work in the household.

The boy shook his head. I pressed my lips together and tried to think. He would need a real name if he was to stay with us. But was it my place to give it to him? The old minstrel did not seem to care if the boy had a name or not. However, this was not a puppy to call Gizmo or Freki as the mood struck me. This was a human being. I felt the expectant looks of Gosvintha and Elaine on my back. I was the queen. Now that I had taken him here, the boy was my responsibility. A name. A name for a singer… Probably not 'Frank Sinatra' or 'Freddy Mercury'…

Suddenly a thought struck me.

How about the poet who had first written down the tale of King Arthur in Wales in the fourteenth century? That would be a fitting name of a singer at a royal court!

"Would you like to have a real name? Like a man?" I asked and looked at the pale face in front of me. Dark eyes were huge in the small face; dark-golden hair framed high cheekbones and a snub-nose. The boy stared at me for a moment, obviously thinking hard.

Then he sniffed noisily and nodded. "Yes, your majesty."

Now it was my turn to stare at the boy. My heart gave an almost painful beat. Your majesty…

Then I cleared my throat and smiled at the boy. "Would you like to be called 'Taliesin'? That is a singer's name. The name of a poet and singer of a famous king of old."

The boy's eyes grew even larger in his too thin face. At last he nodded. A small smile spread across his face until it reached his eyes and made them glow with pride.

I rose to my feet and turned around to find both women staring at me. There was a frown on Gosvintha's face and a strange dark light shone in Elaine's eyes. I felt my hands go cold and clammy. They would never have heard of a famous bard and poet called Taliesin!

Oh rats!

I went on quickly, acting as if I had not noticed anything,

"That will be all for now. Elaine, please have a look at the boy. He seems very thin. If everything is alright with him, send him to the kitchen. At the very least he needs some feeding up. – Is there anything else we need to discuss, Mistress Gosvintha?" I smiled at her as unconcernedly as I could.

"No, that will be all, your majesty," Gosvintha curtsied and left, giving Elaine a polite nod.

Elaine smiled at the boy and held her hand out to him. "Come with me, Taliesin. I promise it won't hurt and then you will get some sweet-meats in the kitchen! How does that sound?"

The smile stayed on the boy's face and he allowed himself to be led from the room.

When she was at the door, Elaine turned and like Gosvintha gave me a courteous nod – accompanied with yet another of her dark, veiled glances. "My lady Lothíriel."

When the door closed behind them I slumped down on the chair behind my desk. I cupped my forehead in my palms and gave a small groan. My hands were icy, my face was hot.

I had the feeling that the matter between Elaine and Gosvintha was resolved by queenly authority and I was grateful that this – my – authority had held up. If my authority failed so early in the game… I shuddered to even think about it.

But the incident with the name made me think about my first lady-in-waiting again. What was it that had made Elaine ask to come with me to Edoras in the first place? And what made her give me those dark looks? And what the bloody f… hell had made me pick a name of my place of birth for the boy? What would it mean if it was publicly known that I was only the adopted daughter of Prince Imrahil?

It was not that it was a secret that I was only Imrahil's daughter by adoption and that I really came from a far-away country. It was more like that it wasn't mentioned in public. Now that I was living here, my Rohirric was improving quickly, and as a lady from Gondor people expected me not to speak Rohirric perfectly and behave strangely at times.

So, what would it mean, if anyone knew?

Would it mean anything at all?

Finally I forced worries and dark thoughts away and turned my attention to the ledgers of the royal household that I tried to familiarize myself with.

It was late in the afternoon, when a knock on the door of my study disturbed my concentration. I looked up to see Éomer enter the room. As always a look from his deep, dark eyes was enough to make my stomach flutter. I felt heat rise to my cheeks and the way his smile broadened told me in no uncertain terms that the heat was visible in a slight flush of colour.

"My lady," he said. There was a twinkle in his eyes. Much as pronouncing our real names had been a flirtatious game between us when we first met, now the honorific had become a hushed caress between us – suitable even in public, which other terms and endearments whispered in the darkness of our chamber were not.

"My lord," I replied and rose from my chair.

He swiftly crossed the room and gathered me in a tight embrace. I knew better by now than to mention the situation of the morning. For Éomer the situation had been over as soon as I had left the room. If I brought it up again, it would only annoy him. As it would also spoil my mood of quivering desire, I kept silent on what excuses I would have liked to make.

"Do you have time this afternoon? The weather is still fair, and for today no further affairs of the state or the hall should bother me," Éomer told me.

I looked at the small round windows framed in lead. Their glass was thick and tinged in yellow in this room. So, although there was sunlight in the room, it was filtered into muted gold that did not give a clue to the real weather outside.

"I do. I am almost finished with that ledger," I said, frowning at the leather-bound tome and the wax-tablet with my notes on the desk. The Cirth covering the tablet still had the awkward look of someone new to the script, but it was coming along. And I was careful not to use the writing I was used to in a more or less public place. I almost rued my journals – written in German and in joined-up writing, but those were kept in our bed-room, where no one would ever see them…

"Then let us go for a ride, meine Liebe! The plains are golden with Narquelië and the swans are flying south from the Anduin. I need some free air around me today. And you look as if you need the same!" A caressing palm travelled down my back. I was dressed in a long overtunic and Rohirric trousers. It looked almost like a dress, but the tunic sported slits at the sides embroidered in gold – pretty and practical at the same time.

My heart thumped heavily at the touch. Free air and sunshine!

Yes, after the morning with Gosvintha and Elaine and hours of poring over crabbed writing in those bloody ledgers…

Free air and sunshine, and perhaps -

"Yes," I sighed. "I most certainly do."

"Then let's go!"

Of course we did not go alone. But we did take only the barest minimum of guards. Rhawion and Helmichis, Frohwein and Éothain. Númendil was a little sullen at being left behind, but I knew what Éomer probably had in mind for our outing and a young page was not the company we needed for that. Nor were four guards, of course.

But there is no real privacy when you are king and queen – nor in a Rohirric household. There are too many people around and the walls are too thin. Even in the warm darkness of our bedchamber we were not really alone, because there were always two guards at the door.

At the royal stables Mimi and Hiswa greeted us eagerly. Not more than fifteen minutes later we were on our way. As we passed the gate, my spirits lifted at once.

Free air and sunshine!

Éomer had been so right!

Although it was already the end of October, the weather was still fairly warm and golden.

Soon we were galloping towards the plains of the Eastfold. The sunshine warmed our backs and glinted on the coat of our horses. The snowy peaks of the Irensaga glittered against a deep blue sky. Our guards kept as far back as security allowed.

We were as alone as we could be.

I felt the powerful play of Mithril's muscles between my legs and a few paces in front of me Éomer was in perfect harmony with the movements of his Hiswa. Éomer's golden and dun hair had escaped the braid and was flowing like a banner in the wind, the tight red leather tunic showed a hint of the muscles I loved to trace on his back and shoulders. Watching my husband riding before me like that made me almost giddy with desire.

After we allowed our horses to run as they wanted to for about two hours, we left the shadows of the mountains and slowed the Mearas down to a walk along the southern banks of the Snowbourne River. The Snowbourne River is the border between West Emnet and the Eastfold. The Eastfold is really the extension of Anórien into Rohan. It is a relatively thin stretch of land between the river Entwash to the north-east and the Ered Nimrais to the south-west. Some fifty miles wide and not even 150 miles long it is the smallest of the Rohirric provinces. It is green foot-hills of harsh mountains sloping down to sun-kissed fields. The farmlands of Rohan are mainly in the Eastfold. Although the Westfold has enough water for farming, too, from the rivers Adorn and Isen, it is exposed to the winds from the West and the more delicate grains, or corn, won't grow there. The Eastfold is sheltered from the winds to the west and the south by the Ered Nimrais. A small province, but rich. Safe, too. Far away from the Misty Mountains and their orcs, far away from wild and lonely plains of Dunland – close to friends and mountain-keeps. It is the sweetest, most idyllic province of the Mark. And yet it is a wider country than any I ever saw back on earth.

"How about we rest here for a while?" Éomer turned in the saddle. There was a gleam in his dark eyes. I was grateful that my cheeks were already flushed from the ride.

Our guards drew up beside us. Frohwein looked around. As far as I could see we were the only people around for miles. We were on a trail between a large field of golden barley and the softly sloping banks of the Snowbourne, grass and thickets golden with autumn and the slender willow trees spilling their yellow leaves into the white rushing water of the river.

The squire nodded. "I think there will be some opportunity to hunt over there."

He made an uncertain movement towards the north-east, where the outskirts of Snowbourne Forest blazed with the dark green of firs, the yellow of birches and the red of maple trees.

At least he kept a straight face.

Soon Éomer and I were alone. Éomer slid down from Hiswa and took hold of Mimi's reins. Mimi had the unfortunate tendency not to stay put when I dismounted and when I wore a real dress this could lead to disaster. With the tunic I wore today it was no problem, but I enjoyed to be caught in Éomer's strong arms nevertheless.

For a moment he held me tight, between his chest and the warm strength of Mithril at my back. I was enveloped in warmth and strength, and the comfortable, musty smell of horse and leather. One of my preferred perfumes of late!

Suddenly I grew aware of him pressed against my lower stomach. I felt things low in my body tighten and a gasp rise from my throat.

"Didn't you want to get some rest?" I asked lightly, but there was a hoarseness to my voice that ruined the joke.

"I do and I will," Éomer replied. "But first things first!"

He quickly unsaddled the horses and spread the saddle blankets on the ground for us to lie on. The horses, left to their own devices, would wander off a few feet and graze, but stay within calling distance – as would the guards.

Now we were really alone.

For a moment I stood and looked down at the rushing white water of the Snowbourne River, remembering another afternoon at the riverside; though that had been on the other side of this river, with the wide plains of the Emnet opening before us. I inhaled deeply. I had come a long way. A long way to happiness…

The air was still warm, dusty with the last ripe grain that would be brought in before November came with cold and rain and perhaps the first snows.

"So thoughtful and quiet, my love?" Éomer stepped behind me and gathered me against him.

This time, with him at my back, the gasp came even more quickly and turned into a moan. When he did not fall asleep on me, Éomer was a wonderful lover – and the long time waiting for him seemed to have made my body so hungry for his touch that sometimes a look was enough to bring on an almost painful wave of desire.

His hands slid down my sides and to my hips, around to the front of my body and up to my breasts.

"Hmm?" I asked and could not remember what he had asked me at all.

With an elegant shrug Éomer divested himself of his red leather tunic and trousers, reclining on the blankets comfortable in all his naked glory. The skin of his chest was lightly tanned and covered in tawny curls. With my heart racing and my fingers trembling in anticipation I got rid of my overdress and my smock. For a moment I stood naked between the field and the river, and the sight of Éomer at my feet and the feeling a soft, cool October breeze on my skin raised goose-bumps all over my body, and my nipples as well.

Éomer's lips parted in a small, contented sigh. "Come here, my lovely! My lovely, lovely Lothíriel!"

And then I forgot everything about the field and the river and the wind – and the guards within hearing distance, too. I only knew hot skin, satin kisses and a deep, deep desire soon filled to the brim and then overflowing into the dizzy delight of shared orgasm.

But in the evening of that day a messenger from Minas Tirith reached Edoras. And the news he brought was not good.

A/N: I am back!

I hope you like the chapter. Please tell me what you think: was it ok to jump in time a little and get right into every day life at Edoras?

Any ideas what will happen next?