A/N: On my LJ – entry of Feb. 11th "Ask Lothy!" – there is still a character meme where you can ask any of my fictional characters (be they canon or original) a question and they will answer you!

oooOooo

92. Hide and Sing

A year ago I thought that the stirrup-cup of mead or cider presented with blessings to a departing friend or guest was a wonderful Rohirric tradition.

Today my hands were cold and shaking with the memory of the goblet's cold metal pressed against my fingers. The wind – north-eastern and biting – drove tears to my eyes. Yeah, right. My sight of the Éomer and his guards riding down the road towards the city's gates blurred.

Without another thought I turned and ran.

oooOooo

I went into hiding in Éomer's library. He had taken to smoking a pipe there on quiet evenings now and again. The Halflings' weed…

The smell is not bad, actually, spicy and pungent, and smoky, of course. But, best of all, it lingered in the leather of the chairs and in the air of the room and reminded me of Éomer.

I curled up on one of the armchairs over-stuffed with burgundy coloured leather. There was no fire. It was cold in the room. But I could not rouse myself to either alert a servant or light the fire myself. A feat, which I was quite able to accomplish on my own by now.

I sat with my arms hugging my knees to my chest, huddled in a heap like a child. My teeth were clenched. I widened my eyes in a desperate effort of trying not to cry. The skin and muscles around my forehead were so tight that I was hurting.

I tried not to think.

There were such stupid thoughts threatening to enter my brain!

Thoughts like: why couldn't he have a normal job? Why did he have to be a king, a warrior and a politician?

I did not want to be reduced to telling myself "You wanted this life, now shut the hell up and get on with it!"

But I was getting there.

Éomer had been home for only three days.

Three days for the horses to rest, three days to attend councils and to spend some hours in bed with his wife.

There were no news from Minas Tirith, so when the three days were over, Éomer was back on Hiswa and on his way first to Aldburg and then to check on the eastern mountain keeps.

What was worst about all of this was that I knew he actually enjoyed getting away from the councils and politics of the court at Edoras. The thinking and considering, the debating and deciding of matters of law and state weighed heavier on Éomer's mind than the quartering and exercising of his troops, the thought of defending his country was less fraught with fear for him than the organization of law-courts and schools.

oooOooo

Outside, Hísimë, November, was waning in short grey days with gusts of bitter winds carrying the first snow-flakes down from the Ered Nimrais.

There was not much to do in Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld this time of the year.

The household was ready for the winter. The ledgers were in order, the pantries were filled, and the herbs of the houses of healing were stocked up well. All in all, the household functioned smoothly now. The newcomers had settled in. Perhaps not comfortably or easily, but we had settled in.

There was not much to do now but spin and weave and knit – and wait for another messenger of war to arrive from Minas Tirith; this time bearing the red arrow that would lead Éomer away from me, to war and danger.

There was nothing to do for me really, but wait for that blasted red arrow.

I still could not spin, or weave or knit; much to the amusement of my ladies-in-waiting and Mistress Gosvintha.

The royal Mearas could come and go as they wished between the plains around Edoras and the royal stables. There was no real need to exercise Mithril. I did so nevertheless, at least every other day. Much like Éomer I did feel the need to get out and away from the court. Only my options of actually getting out and away were much more limited than his.

Apart from that, I had some weapons' training and some lessons. Writing and reading, Rohirric and history.

I enjoyed Rohirric – which I still did with Helmichis' help. Writing and reading (tengwar and the Cirth), a younger scribe had taken over, a shy young man with hazelnut coloured hair, with the impossible name of Amhlaoibh, which I still could not pronounce correctly; and he was not old or secure enough in his position not to mind this failing. History lessons Master Thorkel had taken over. And although he was kind and a mine of information, I could not let go of the fact that he had deleted my small part in the history of the War of the Rings.

So it came about that there was really no duty that demanded my presence this morning after I bid my husband and his riders farewell.

So it came about that I sat in Éomer's cold study, inhaled the lingering scent of his pipe smoke and tried very hard not to cry.

oooOooo

Suddenly a small noise alerted me. The sound of the door being opened slowly, carefully – and being closed again, just as slowly, just as carefully. Then, the sound of small feet tip-toeing into the room. Soft, excited breathing.

Then a frightened gasp, as little Solas realized that the study was not quite as empty as she had thought it to be.

The little girl stood in front of me, her lips quivering, her face screwed up, ready to cry.

My own heart was beating faster from this unexpected disturbance, but I uncurled my legs and tried to smile at Solas in a reassuring way. "Hey, sweetie! Are you hiding from your mummy? Did you run away?"

For a moment Solas hesitated, obviously not quite sure if she ought to run for it or if it was safe to stay and talk to me.

"I have been hiding here, too," I offered.

"But you are the queen!" Solas blurted out. Solas was three years and some months old now and her speech pattern had improved immensely since Taliesin had become her friend. "Queens not hide!"

I sighed. "Well, I guess I shouldn't hide. But I have been feeling blue and so I sneaked off and hid in here, feeling a bit sorry for myself."

Solas gave me a wide-eyed, astonished look. "Blue? You're no blue!"

She looked me up and down intensely, her eyebrows screwed together in a frown.

"Sad," I explained. "I am sad because my husband had to ride away. You know, the king, Éomer, he has ridden away today."

"Awwwww," was the little girl's reply and then she nodded thoughtfully. "He gone away! – Will he come back?"

Her face was suddenly very quiet and her eyes turned into a darker colour than their usual cheerfully sparkling blue-grey. She did not really remember her father. But she did remember how her mother told her about her father going away, and then, later, that her father would not be back.

That he would not be back…

An icy weight dropped into the pit of my stomach.

That he would not be back…

But Éomer would be back.

This time.

He was only inspecting the troops.

He would be back soon.

This time.

I didn't even realize when I started to cry.

But suddenly the warm weight of Solas was on my lap and clinging to me, kissing me with wet, sweet kisses and crying herself to keep me company in my misery.

My tears subsided quickly. It was not as if I had any real reason to cry my heart out. It was probably only a bout of PMS-hormones wreaking havoc with my emotions…

When I calmed down again, it took not long to quiet Solas. Soon the room was filled with soft breathing and the sucking sounds of a small child taking comfort by mouthing her right thumb. Soon I felt soothed. Warm, friendly, snuggling Solas was a great comforter.

But she soon got bored with the arrangement and started fidgeting.

"It's cold here!" she complained finally and squirmed free off my hold.

"Well," I said and got down on my knees in front of the fire place. "I think I can do something about that. But don't you want to go back to your mother? She might be worried and looking for you!"

A wicked little grin crept on Solas' face at my question. "No worried. I'm s'posed to be playin'."

"With whom are you supposed to be playing?" I turned around and frowned at the child. I had an idea with whom she was fooling around. And I did not want him to be blamed for little Solas' jinxes.

For a moment Solas chewed on her lower lip, apparently considering if she could weasel her way out of an answer. Finally she replied in her high, sweet little girl's voice. The sound of innocence… yeah, right!

"Hide'n'Seek. With Tally."

Tally was Taliesin. The boy, though only about six or seven years old, had swiftly turned from a suspiciously eyed newcomer into the leader of the younger children at the hall. As such he was routinely asked to mind the younger ones. So if anyone noticed that Solas had disappeared, it was Tally who'd catch hell first. From Gosvintha, Sorcha and Elaine in that order. With the one or the other of the female servants adding their various grains of salt, no doubt.

I raised my eyebrows at Solas. "Do you want Tally to get into trouble?"

Solas looked away. She resumed chewing her lower lip. There was a hint of a blush on her round little cheeks.

"You know that if your mother wants you now and Tally does not know where you are that he will get in trouble, don't you? He will be punished because you ran off. Do you want that?"

"Nooooo!" Solas wailed, her face filled with alarm. "But… I don't wanna back! I don' unnerstand them's others."

I sighed. Solas was better at Rohirric than I was, but at times it was still hard for her to follow her playmates' debates, especially if they used their local dialects. Tally – although born and bred Rohirrim – had soaked up Westron like a sponge, along with the songs the Harper was teaching him. There was no hint of an accent left to his speech by now. I knew that it was far better for Solas not to keep talking Westron with Tally, as this would set her apart from the other children, but well, I could understand how she felt. In fact, I understood her only too well.

"Do you know where Tally is right now? Could you go and get him?"

Solas – her little face screwed up, ready to cry once more – shook her head emphatically.

"He be lookin' fo' me! I don' 'no where!"

I sighed. Again. Contrary to Tolkien's description of the Golden Hall of Meduseld the royal palaces of the Rohirrim are quite big enough to get lost in them. They are not as big as the Citadel of Minas Tirith, but they are a good deal larger than Dol Amroth or Tarnost.

Well, first things first.

That was a lesson I had learned well by now.

I finished preparing the fire, big logs, branches, kindling – then reached for a pine twig that was sticky with resin and lit it in a candle. I carefully put the twig to the kindling. Then I blew gently on the flame until it had caught well.

I rocked back on my heels and turned to Solas again who – in turn – had calmed down while I was busy with the fire. She had her right thumb in her mouth and was watching me with a half anxious, half hopeful expression on her face.

"Do you have any idea how we could help Tally to find us here? Quickly?" I asked Solas.

That sweet little frown slid back into place as Solas considered my question.

After a long moment's silence that was broken only by the soft sucking sounds of Solas' lips squeezing around her thumb, the little girl replied.

"We could sing! He'd hear that an' come!"

For a moment I just stared at her. The palaces – as I mentioned before – are if not huge, though certainly large. On the other hand… Tally's ears seemed to be more like a cat's than a human's, hearing the slightest imperfection in music – be it vocal or instrumental.

And if I was going to sing, there would be more than only a slight imperfection in the song…

"Do you really think so?"

A bright smile appeared on Solas' face. The sun after the rain, unexpected and warm.

"Yes! He will! You 'no any songs? Nu ones?"

I settled back down in the arm chair. Songs… a song to sing right now… on cue…

There was no song that was not new to Solas that came to my mind.

"Well, I think I know one or two songs you don't know, sweetie. But don't laugh if I don't sing well, O.K.? I would stop at once and that would get you and Tally into trouble!"

I was not sure if Solas understood everything I told her. But she nodded thoughtfully, pulled her thumb out of her mouth and looked up at me expectantly, waiting for my song.

I cleared my throat and started into the first fairly easy song that came to my mind.

"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away,

Now it looks as though they're here to stay.

Oh, I believe in yesterday…

Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be,

There's a shadow hanging over me.

Oh, yesterday came suddenly…

Why she had to go, I don't know, she wouldn't say.

I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday…"

Solas was hanging on my every word. Soon she was crooning along with me. She still had no singing voice at all, only that child's squeaking that can be so sweet and so grating at the same time.

I don't know if it was my own off-key rendition of that old Beatles' song, or Solas' sweet screeching, but after I had finished the song for the second time, the door of the study opened and Tally had indeed found our hiding place.

"There you are!" he called out and ran forwards, relief obvious on his face. "You know you are not to go into another wing of the palace when we play together!"

Then, belatedly, he turned towards me and – ac ting as if he had only just noticed me – bowed deeply at once. "My lady, I am sorry!"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Don't try to tell me that you did not know I was here. I am sure you recognized my beautiful singing when you were still quite far away from this room!"

There's a reason why I only sing along very, very quietly when I am in company. I am not only an idiot when it comes to sewing, I also can't keep a melody for the love of little apples.

"Well… er…it was more that I did not recognize the song, my lady! And I think I know most of the Gondorian songs by now!" Taliesin replied diplomatically, although his tone was somewhat indignant at the fact that there were still songs around he did not know.

"Well," I imitated him. "That might be because it's not a Gondorian song. It's a song from the land where I was born." Well, not really, but from the world or time or dimension where I was born, anyway; so it was close enough to the truth.

"Could you sing it again?" Taliesin's eyes were almost pleading. He did not want money or sweets or a toy sword. He begged the soldiers for bawdy songs, the women folk for nursery-rhymes and the minstrels for ballads; those were his sweets and treats.

Oh, well… He had already heard the song… I might as well do it again. After all, they were only children. There could be no harm in singing some of my old songs with them. They would like the songs too much to make fun of me. And there was no adult around here this time of the day who could hear me. After all, I had in fact been hiding in here, too.

So I cleared my throat again and launched into another off-key rendition of "Yesterday".

When I started into it a second time, I was accompanied by the heart-breakingly clear descant of Tally's boyish soprano and the lilting croon of Solas still evolving voice.

The singing was fun.

Also, sitting there at the fireside with two friendly and funny children for company it was impossible to feel lonely and sorry for myself.

Perhaps I should sing more often?

oooOooo

We had progressed to another of my favourite songs, "Country Roads", when the door opened once again.

"Almost heaven, West-Virginia, Blue Ridge Mountains… life is old there, older than the trees, younger than the mountains blowing like a breeze… country roads take me home, to the place I belong…"

And again, on the second attempt Taliesin was singing along with me – in fact, it was more like I was singing along with little Tally, and not the other way around.

And again, the door opened to admit someone alerted to our hiding place by the noise of our singing.

This time, it was the Harper.

For a moment he stood in the door and only looked at me with his strange, blinded gaze turned towards me, looking at me, but not seeing me. His straggly mane of unkempt grey-silvery locks was unchanged, but his robes were warm and neat now that he lived in the palace. I knew that Gosvintha had seen to that.

I don't know what he sensed. He could not see me, or the children, after all. How he could judge the atmosphere of the room with us fallen silent, I don't know. But he did.

"My lady," he said with his strange raspy speaking voice. "May I join you? I don't think I know these songs yet, either."

"Of course," I said. "Come in and sit down!"

With my eyes I tried to tell Taliesin to get up and assist his blind teacher to another of the armchairs. But the boy only shook his head and stayed where he was. The Harper closed the door behind him and moved slowly and carefully from the door to the armchair opposite of me. He did not stumble or connect with any piece of furniture. He moved as if he had some inner radar that told him exactly where everything and everyone was in the room. He sat down slowly, as if every movement was an ache in his bones and handed his lap-harp to Tally.

Then he raised his blind eyes to me again. Suddenly his lined and pain-wracked features transfigured completely, as he gave me a smile that was warm like summer-sunshine.

"So this is why you never sing along with the other in the evening, my lady?"

I winced. He had heard my singing.

But before I had time to think about yet ability that I lacked for to be a perfect queen of Rohan, the bard continued, with his voice as gruff and rough as ever, "I would love to hear you sing more often."

Then the harper pointed to Tally to get the harp ready for playing.

"Do you know any other new songs, my lady?"