99. Halifirien Hill

We travelled slowly. Compared to my experience with the awesome speeds Mearas are capable of we moved at a snail's pace. But I did not mind at all. It was the height of summer. I was happy and I was pregnant with my first child. This was the closest to a holiday I would probably ever get with a husband who was a king.

We set out with as small an entourage as possible. The king's guard, the queen's guard, the members of the royal household who wanted to come and a handful of servants. All in all we numbered not even one hundred, mostly on horse, with only half a dozen carriages.

The harper had stayed behind in Edoras, but he had entrusted Tally to Sorcha's care. Sorcha was in the most comfortable of our carriages now, together with Tally, Danso and Solas. Sorcha had been all in favour of staying behind with her daughter, but Éomer wanted her to accompany us. I guess more specifically, he wanted her to accompany me, as he knew that she was my best friend among my ladies-in-waiting. Also, Anrid was not up to that journey anymore, due to give birth around the same time as my sister-in-law. It went without saying that Elaine was with us, too.

The weather was fair as we rode out of the gates of Edoras. The sun glinted on the helmets, sword hilts and shields of our guards. The hooves resounded like cheerful drum rolls on the pavement. I rode next to Éomer at the front of our company. Númendil rode to the left side of my husband, on a young grey mare. Not a Meara, yet, but a noble horse all the same. The boy had grown so much in that year. He was still a boy, but only just. He was on his way to become a man. His face had changed. He looked more like his older brother Elphir, now that the softness of childhood was leaving his features. There was something of both of his parents in him.

Once again I was happy that he had become Éomer's squire, because with him a part of my first Middle-earth family was present in Rohan. He had grown his hair long, like a rider of Rohan. Soon the girls will begin looking at him, I thought as we rode down to the crossroads at the bridge across Snowbourne River. If I had not been riding, I think my hand would have stolen down to rest on my stomach again, marvelling at this miracle inside me, making me wonder about my child and how it would grow up to be… a handsome lad or a pretty girl?

Preoccupied with my thoughts of the future as I was, I barely glanced at the grave mounds flowering with simbelyinë to the left and the right of the road. But I knew that Éomer looked at them, because he always did, with his eyes dark with sorrow and memory. But then we were past the graves and turned onto the Great West Road. For almost fifteen miles the road followed the river on its meandering way towards the east, where it would eventually join the Entwash. The Entwash was a big river coming out of Fangorn Forest. It was the border between the provinces of West Emnet and East Emnet and farther to the south-east it became the border between East Emnet and the Eastfold.

We rode only about twenty miles that first day and made camp early, enjoying a leisurely meal of stew and bread around the fire when the sun was still golden and warm. Later I lay curled up in Éomer's arms, almost comfortable on a thick padded mat that would serve as our bed during the journey. Éomer's hand rested on my stomach, large and warm. I don't think that I ever felt happier in my life. I had the choice to lose my gaze in the flames of the campfire or the myriads of stars in the sky above. Or my husband's beautiful dark eyes. Or I could simply close my eyes and allow myself to be enveloped in the spicy heat of my husband's embrace.

It was a sound somewhere between humming and rumbling that made me open my eyes again. I turned my head to look at Éomer. He smiled at me, his eyes dark, filled with reflections of the leaping flames of the campfire and the fire of his heart.

"Is that a song or a cough?" I asked finally.

The sound stopped and Éomer grinned at me. "It was not quite a song, my love. It was a bit of a rhyme, something that my father taught me, when I was very young. A teaching song, you could call it perhaps. I learned it when I was a bit older than Solas, but younger than Tally, I think. Five winters, perhaps?"

"A nursery rhyme?" I asked, surprised and touched.

I felt Éomer's nod in soft scratching of his bearded chin against my neck. A shiver ran down my spine. I inhaled his scent greedily. Leather, horse, sweat and summer. A day's riding in warm summer air, soaked into his skin. But this was not the time or the place for shivers and more intimate touches – with our guards, the other members of the household and the children drifting off to sleep all around us. I sighed.

"What is the rhyme about?" I inquired, snuggling closer into the cosy warmth of Éomer's body. "Will you sing it for me?"

"It is about the beacon hills of Gondor. I think the foothills of the Irensaga that we passed today reminded me of the beacon hills. I will try if I remember the words. It was a long time ago I last heard them."

For a moment he was silent, then he resumed his humming. After a while of crooning a strongly rhythmic melody, Éomer suddenly began to sing in a soft voice.

"When dark is the hour and dire the need,
Flames across seven hills shall speed.

On Amon Dîn, silent hill
Brightest blaze the night shall fill.

On Eilenach, tooth of fire,
Flames will flare in brilliant spire.

On Nardol, also, fire head,
Another beacon light shall spread.

On Erelas, our vigil green,
Flares from far off will be seen.

On Minrimmon, our tower of old,
Fires shall shine ever so bold.

On Calenhad, all crowned in green,
No flame will e'er remain unseen.

On Amon Anwar, hill of awe,
The flames shall forth the riders draw.

When dark is the hour and dire the need,
Flames across seven hills shall speed.

On Amon Dîn, silent hill,
On Eilenach, fire-sill,
On Nardol, knoll of fire-sheen,
On Erelas, our vigil green,
On Minrimmon, our tower of old,
On Calenhad, all crowned in gold,
On Amon Anwar, hill of awe -

The flames shall forth the riders draw."

After a time the names of the hills and the melody of the song mingled with the crackling sounds of the fire and the soothing breath of the nightly breeze, and I fell asleep in Éomer's arms.

oooOooo

A week later we reached the border between Rohan and Gondor. The county Fenmarch is probably the greenest part of Rohan, with the Entwash and Mering Stream providing enough water for even corn or wheat, crops that would not grow in the Emnet or the Wold.

Tonight we would stay in Fenmarch Fortress, the garrison at the border between Rohan and Gondor. The importance of Fenmarch Fortress lies not in the strength of its walls, though they are impressive, but in its stables. Fenmarch Fortress is home to a company of White Riders, a small contingent of the King's Guard on Mearas. Relay riders and messengers to take up any signal flashed from the Gondorian beacon hill of Halifirien on the other side of Mering Stream.

When we had stayed here before, or passed by the high grey walls and towers of the fortress, I had not given the garrison much thought beyond noting that it was there, protecting the border. Now, the words of that teaching song about the beacon hills still in my thoughts, along with assorted odds and ends about the history of Rohan and Gondor and the company of the White Riders, I looked at the fortress with new eyes.

It would be nice to sleep in a real bed again, if only for a night, I mused as I left the chambers that had been made ready for us. They were large, well appointed guest chambers. Fenmarch Fortress was quite big, and they were used to having many visitors and important guests. Chambers and baths had been ready when we arrived and now dinner was ready to be served. Dressed in my best travelling gown I followed Sorcha and a servant to the Great Hall. I had put down my foot against Ini's and Sorcha's suggestions to get out some real clothes. I knew how long it would take them to get one of the gowns stowed away in that chest ready for me to wear and how much longer it would take them to put everything into that chest again come morning. The commander of Fenmarch Fortress and indeed my husband would have to live with me in my best travelling dress for tonight. Dressing up could wait for Minas Tirith.

Dinner in Fenmarch Fortress turned out to be a nice surprise. The Great Hall was plain as Great Halls go, rough grey stonework, a few elaborate hangings depicting riders, riders and more riders, a huge fire place, a long, long table with benches at the sides and throne-like chairs on either end. Éomer got one of the thrones, the commander of the fortress the other. Those are the priorities in Rohan. Not that I minded. I preferred sitting next to my husband, really.

After dinner, the commander brought out a bottle of dwarvish whisky and Éomer produced his pipe. I managed not to raise my eyebrows at Éomer and was rewarded with a public kiss when I took my leave.

The pregnancy was certainly mellowing Éomer (if not me). I could not suppress a grin.

"I am going to get a bit of fresh air, a little walk and then head off to bed, leofestan," I told Éomer. He held my hands tightly, raised them to his lips, even. There was the oddest expression on his face, love, caring, and a bit of regret that he would not be able to join me for hours yet. "But take your guards, meine Liebe."

"Of course," I replied. Helmichis and Lunt were already waiting. "My lords, captain, I bid you good night."

The company of nobles, warriors, captain and king rose and everyone bowed to me. I indicated a curtsy and left the hall, wondering for a moment when all those mannerisms and courtly gestures had become natural to me.

Catching sight of a servant, I asked, "Could you show me the way to the garden, please? I want to take a walk."

The servant, an older man, bowed politely. "Of course, my lady."

oooOooo

It was a small rose garden. All castles and palaces seem to have a rose garden. It was a clear night, with an almost full moon and all the stars out. All around the garden the walls were set with sconces and brightly lit torches. The air was filled with the perfume of roses and lavender. A beautiful summer evening. Peaceful and soothing.

My guards kept as far back as concerns for my safety allowed, giving me as much privacy for my thoughts as possible. I sighed and stretched a bit. I was tired from the day's ride, however slow and leisurely it had been. It was good to be almost alone for a bit… at once I felt a smile creep up on my face. Not that I ever was alone, theses days. My hand moved to my stomach. "You are always with me, little one," I whispered.

A sound made me look up and I was barely able to suppress an annoyed sigh. I was not the only one who had sought refuge in the rose garden for a bit of peace and quiet. Elaine sat on a marble bench, hidden in the shadow of a slender tree.

"Good evening, my lady," the healer addressed me politely. "How are you? Not too tired, I hope?" Her expression seemed sombre, bordering on bitter, but that could have been the shadows of the evening, too. Her tone was professionally friendly and caring, as almost always.

"I am well, thank you. A bit tired, yes, but I feel very well. I don't think I feel anything but well, now that the morning sickness has passed. I did not see you there in the shadow, I am sorry if I disturbed you." I smiled at her, though of course in the dark she would not be able to see that smile. At least the smile made my voice sound friendly, too.

"No, my lady, you did not disturb me. Please, sit down. You are tired already, you should not keep on your feet so much."

What was I to do? I was in no mood yet to go to bed. So I thanked Elaine and sat down next to her. Sitting side by side in the warm darkness of the summer evening the reserved healer seemed more accessible then at other times. She always kept apart from the other members of the household. It was not that she was a difficult person, well, she was, but there was more to it. A sense of loneliness, perhaps? Of discontent?

"Would you tell me about the… country where you were born, my lady?" Elaine asked suddenly.

I turned around and stared at her, taken completely by surprise. "Why?" I asked nonplussed. "And what do you want to know?"

I realized with a pang that I had not thought about Germany in a long time. I had not even thought about my family there in a long time. Not even about my mother, whom I was going to make a grandmother in a few months' time… something she would probably never know… so caught up had I been in my happiness, my marriage, my new family and my new home.

"I don't know much about medicine… the healing arts," I added.

"No, it's not that so much that I am interested in," Elaine replied. "I would like to know… more about the way of living there. What your life would have been like, had you not come here."

Why did she want to know that? Would it be wise to tell her any details?

For a moment I stared into the darkness.

I had to trust Elaine. In fact, I was trusting her with my life, and with the life of my unborn child. Then she probably deserved to be trusted with the answer to her question as well.

"Well…" I said finally and promptly trailed off, not knowing where to begin.

"When I went away, I was studying the laws of my country… I was studying to become… ummm… something like Master Lamont, a lore master, and councillor."

"So you went to school and then you were granted the privilege of tutors? The way you study the laws and customs of Rohan?" 'School' came out with a strange emphasis. The school at Edoras was up and running. After the initial hubbub about it, parents, pupils and teachers alike were now quite happy with the arrangement. I had not realized that Elaine had taken an interest in that school at all. Or that she paid much attention to what I was doing…

"Ahem… no, not really. There are… places of lore where I grew up, for such studying. They are called universities. A bit like the school, only for advanced things… lore. Everyone can study there… that is, if you are smart enough." Somehow that explanation sounded so insufficient.

"And after your studies? What would you have done then?"

I shrugged. "Whatever… if I would have been good enough, I could have been a judge… or a lawyer… or a lore master myself… they need people versed in laws everywhere, in… er… trading, building, everywhere… I would have found a job… a career…"

But as I sat there, staring into the dark twilight of the summer evening, my old world seemed to be so far away as to be nothing but a bad dream and my explanations sounded utterly meaningless.

But Elaine seemed to be able to make sense of my stammering. "Would you have married?"

I started at that question. Would I have married… how would I have lived my life, had I not met a wizard that day in the green hills of Frankonia… if I had not met Éomer…

I shivered. The thought of those endless, dreary possibilities of an unlived life that I had escaped by a hair's breadth shook me.

I gulped. "I don't know. If you fall in love and you feel like it, you marry; well, for the most part, I think. There are always exceptions. And in other countries it was different… But where I grew up, it was like that. If you fell in love, you could marry. But you did not have to. You could stay together, have children and all, without marrying. Or you could stay alone, on your own. As a matter of fact, not long before I left they even passed a law that homosexual couples could marry, too. Men who love men or women who love women."

There was a sharp intake of breath at my side, but no comment. For a long time, neither of us said anything. Around us, the only sounds were the crickets chirping in the garden around us. And the wheels in my brain making meaningless clicking noises…

Suddenly Elaine spoke again. There was a bitterness in her voice that frightened me a little. "I will never understand you, Lothíriel. You could have lived every life you wanted to live, and yet you chose to come here."

I felt my heart beating heavily in my chest, and once again, my hand crept to my stomach. I swallowed hard. What if I had not followed that rainbow…"This is the life I chose to live."

"And you are happy with it."

What was there to say to that? "Yes," I replied. "I am."

"It was the wizard you met? Who showed you the way?" Elaine asked, her voice a bit choked, as if she was trying to prevent her voice from betraying too much emotion.

"Yes, I met Gandalf when I went walking in the hills near the city where I grew up. And… he did something… and then there was this rainbow, and I followed it to its end, and then I was suddenly on the road to Bree."

"You followed a rainbow?" For the first time Elaine turned to me, astonishment and disbelief colouring her voice, her eyes were glittering in the light of moon and torches. Were there tears in her eyes?

It did sound rather stupid. This was the fifth time that I told my story and it still sounded ridiculous. I knew that I frowned and that I tilted my head stubbornly, a bit like a mule that won't be budged. "Well, yes," I repeated. "That's what I just said. I met a wizard. We talked about life and things… I think I said that I was looking for a real life…. And then there was this rainbow and when I came to its end, I was in the Shire. Near Bree."

"The wizard," Elaine repeated. "But he is gone, isn't he? He sailed with the Lady of Lórien and the Queen's father to the Undying Lands?"

Suddenly I realized just what Elaine had been asking.

I sat there, in the darkness, next to my lady-in-waiting, the best healer of Tarnost and Edoras and felt as if the wind had been knocked from my lungs. Elaine was asking me for a way out of Middle-earth.

My thoughts were in a wild jumble. What could I say? What should I say? I probably said the worst thing that I could have said.

"I think you'd need a wizard. Or maybe Tom Bombadil. He is very powerful. And look, I have no idea, really, I have no idea why Gandalf brought me here. Maybe it was only because he knew that the other Lothíriel was dead. Maybe it was only because he knew that a Lothíriel was meant to be here, in this day and age. I have really no idea. And, you know… I really don't think we should talk about this much. It is such a weird story."

"Weird?"

I could hear her raised eyebrows. These days my way of speaking only very rarely drew attention. But this conversation had really unnerved me.

And what if she went away and tried to find a wizard before I had my baby? I needed her!

Cold panic flooded me. I drew a shuddering breath.

Suddenly I felt a warm hand on my arm. "Breathe slowly, Lothíriel. Calm and even. Yes, that's right. I hope you know that I will never to talk to anyone about where you came from. I hope you know that you can trust me."

I breathed deeply, following her advice. In. Out. Calm. Even.

"I will be there for you when your time comes with this child," Elaine said softly as if she had heard my thoughts. After a moment's pause she continued. "I had to leave Gondor. I refused a suitor. It was awkward. I am indebted to you."

"I never knew," I said, astonished, and feeling not a little stupid. Then I thought about what she had said. "For this child?"

Her face was pale in the moonlight and tense, her eyes pools of darkness.

"And then? Then you will go looking for a wizard?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Then I will go looking for a wizard."

She rose to her feet. "You should go to bed now, my lady."

Then she turned and was gone, in a swift rustle of long skirts and long strides. Long, confident strides… too long and too confident for this world, perhaps.

oooOooo

Two days later Éomer, Númendil and I were following a guide on a narrow trail that led up the steep forested slopes of Halifirien Hill in winding serpentines.

Halifirien Hill, also known as Amon Anwar, hill of awe, is the last of the Gondorian beacon hills. On Halifirien Hill it is said was the tomb of Elendil before his remains were moved to Rath Dínen in Minas Tirith. On Halifirien Hill, Eorl the Young swore his allegiance to Gondor and was granted the province of Calenardhon as a kingdom in its own right. On Halifirien Hill, it is said, you can sometimes still see the eagles of Manwë circle above Middle-earth, a sign of hope that the Valar have not turned away from the race of men altogether. A hill of many songs and stories.

Éomer wanted to show this historic site to me. Therefore our company had left the Great West Road for a day and had come to Fort Firien, a small garrison in Firien Forest, similar to Fenmarch Fortress, only smaller.

The beacon hills of Gondor were guarded by Gondorian soldiers and what they call the Mountain Guard, a small company of mountain men serving the regular beacon garrisons as guides and aides. Customarily there were two soldiers and one of the Mountain Guard on duty at each beacon for three months in a row, and then they were relieved by another trio of two soldiers and a mountain guard. Apparently taking the turn as a beacon's guard was considered somewhat as a rite of passage among the young Gondorian soldiers, so almost every officer had served a term as a beacon's guard in his youth. They served a year, two turns up on the hill, two down in the garrison, then they got moved to another unit. But the men of the Mountain Guard stay.

An interesting arrangement, I thought. When our guide turned out to be one of the Mountain Guard, I was even more fascinated. It was plain to see that our guide, who introduced himself as Aren, was not of the same kind of people as the Gondorians or the Rohirrim. He was not tall and dark haired, nor tall and fair. It was not that he was small, perhaps average. But he lacked the long, graceful lines of built that so many Gondorians have, and many Rohirrim, too. He was… burly. Squat. His features were… different, too. A bit rough, perhaps? A broad nose and chin, flat cheekbones. Dark brown eyes and dark brown hair, more curly than straight. He reminded me a bit of the way Danso looked. And now that I thought about it, there was a hint of this kind of look in little Tally, too. So the mountain guards were actually what remained of the mountain people, those ancient tribes that had lived in the mountains and primeval forests of Gondor before the Númenoreans arrived, perhaps even before whatever people lived in Gondor when the Númenoreans put to shore again there, had come to settle there. People like the tribe of Ghân-buri-ghân… the forefathers of the Dunlendings…

I wondered what an anthropologist would make of the history of Middle-earth and its various peoples. Or what would be found if a team of archaeologists did an excavation up on Halifirien Hill. Though this was nothing that I would ever suggest for real… even if there had been any archaeologists in Middle-earth. I was too much in awe of the Hill of Awe.

But all of that did make for interesting thoughts as I followed Éomer up that hill.

Well, perhaps it was not quite a hill. A foothill of the Ered Nimrais was a pretty good mountain on its own. But it was, of course, a far cry from the snowy heights of the real mountain range of the White Mountains, where the snow never disappeared throughout the year. Elaine or Éomer would never have allowed me to climb a real mountain… I rolled my eyes at the thought of Éomer asking the healer at least three times if she was sure that it was alright for me to walk up to Halifirien Hill…

Suddenly we left the forest behind us.

It was still early in the morning, so the air was still quite cool. But already it was filled with the fragrance of mountain summer. Resin and herbs, stones and that hint of honey from the many flowers of the mountain meadows. Before us lay a long steep slope leading right up to the summit of Amon Anwar. It was rocky ground, with patches of grass and flower and blooming gorse.

"Ye have t' be carf'l where ye step, m'lady," Aren told me. There was a heaviness to his vowels and he had a tendency to slur the short words. He spoke the dialect of the mountain men and he did not bother to hide it.

"Yes, thank you, Aren," I said, a little breathlessly and stopped, taking a look around. In the sunshine, out of the shadows of the forest, the day was quickly getting warm. The sky above us was endless and so deeply blue that I felt I could drown in it.

"Are you alright, my love? Should we rest a bit?" Éomer turned to me, his hand reaching for my arm, squeezing lightly, his expression a bit worried.

I laughed at him. "Of course I am alright! Don't worry so much! I was just enjoying the view!"

He raised his eyebrows a little at that. I realized that for him "enjoying the view" would not be as natural a thing to do on a walk as it was for me… For him, as a commander and a warrior, the natural thing to do on a walk was to analyze his surroundings strategically… where to place a guard, where to watch for an attack…

We had talked about how much his being a warrior shaped his views and his reactions, how it was sometimes difficult for him to react as a king and not as a commander. It was at odd moments like this that I was reminded of how different we were, how much there was about us that the other would probably never really understand. And yet, we could love each other.

Life is weird.

The path up to the summit of Amon Anwar was not difficult or dangerous. It was only narrow and rocky and winding. You had to watch your feet. After a while of slow walking, my thoughts grew calm. My heartbeat and breath became tuned to the rhythm of my steps. The clear, sweet air of summer, the birdsong around me and the buzzing of bees and flies… I felt as if a magical spell was beginning to take hold.

Suddenly we were on the summit.

I gasped with astonishment. I had thought that the legend about Elendil's grave being on top of Amon Anwar had only been that: a legend. But here in front of me was something. Actually, I could even assign it a scientific name. It was a dolmen, a structure of standing stones where at least one of the slabs was placed horizontally over the others. In front of me was an ancient monument of rough stones. They were nearly man-high, and one of the huge slabs of stones was placed over them as a flat top.

The summit of Amon Anwar was flat and covered with short green grass. To the northern end of the plateau, the ground rose a little. There, a foundation of dry stones had been erected, and on top of it was a pile of wood, stacked together in a square. The beacon of Amon Anwar. Gazing at the beacon and the dolmen, I realized that they were aligned: beacon, standing stones – and, I followed that line of vision to the high peaks of the Ered Nimrais to the south, the highest peak of the Firien massive, mount Halygfirien. For a moment I wondered what where the shadow of the dolmen would point on midsummer's day, or exactly what you would see standing in front of the beacon…

"'Tis said that the old ones could stand 'ere and see all th' way to th' Argonath… them that still had the sharp sight of th' older days," Aren said.

I caught myself just in time and prevented an untimely exclamation of "wow". Instead I cleared my throat and replied, lightly, "Interesting. They must have had eyes like an eagle."

Éomer took my hand. "Come, my love. I will show you where our kingdom was made."

He led me to the space between the beacon and the dolmen.

"Here," he said, his eyes lit to a bright amber by the summer sun, his hair bleached almost to gold by the fortnight outdoors in the sunshine. His voice was filled with awe, but he allowed me to hold his hand. "Here, Eorl the Young swore his oath to Cirion, and Cirion gave his pledge of friendship and aid. Here, Calenardhon became Rohan. Here our home was shaped."

I looked at the standing stones in front of me and tried to imagine the blond young man of the tapestries of the Golden Hall, tall and proud and handsome, his long hair flowing in the wind… lifting his hand to swear the oath that had made Rohan a kingdom in its own right, more than five hundred years ago.

After a long moment of silence I stepped into Éomer's embrace. "Thank you for bringing me here," I whispered. Then he kissed me and I felt enveloped in love and in the quiet blessing that lived on in this hallowed place.

oooOooo

Twelve days later we arrived in Minas Tirith.

I had to admit that I felt tired after this journey of more than three weeks and the days ride from the Grey Wood to the city. As I retreated to the latrine, I was thinking only of three things: relieving myself, a bath and a bed.

I pulled down my trousers.

For a moment, what I saw did not even register.

Then I heard my voice as if from far away. A panicky whisper.

"I'm bleeding."

There was a rushing sound in my ears, as I screamed,

"Elaine, Sorcha, I'm bleeding!"

Then everything went dark.

oooOooo

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter. I have worked on it on and off for almost a week. I would really appreciate any comment at all, especially about the nursery rhyme.

That song cost me a ton of nerves, a day of my life, and would have turned some hairs grey if I had not had the help of two wonderful beta-readers, Aranel Took and Arandil. Thank you again!

I hope that you also liked what has been revealed about the mystery of Elaine. But don't worry, she will stay mysterious! Elaine, even though now some of her reactions should be easier to understand in retrospect.

Chapter 100 will be out in a week or so.

Yours
Juno