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~ Homecoming ~
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Elraen kept her cloak close about her to conceal her armor, and glimpsed at a distance neither friend or foe would see aught but a curious yellow horse flying across the plains. As she rode she thought of the vision in Galadriel's mirror of fields overrun with enemies under black skies and shadowy mountains in the distance. She wondered if the striking white embattlents must be Minas Tirith, as Boromir had once described it.
They kept going through the following day, reaching the gates of the Golden Hall at sunset. She dismounted and cast back the hood of her cloak, leaving the great mare to rest in the fields.
"Declare yourself, child! The king's accepting few strangers to this land," said one of the guards when she approached, wondering what to make of this dark haired young girl strangely cloaked, and her remarkable horse.
"I am no stranger," she replied in their tongue. "I am the foster daughter of the last ambassador of Gondor to Rohan, born and raised at his homestead at the old mill out on the Western Marches."
The guards stared silently a few moments in wonder. "Very well," he said after a few moments in a grave tone. "But I'll warn you the king is friendly to few seeking help of late. He led her to the doors of the hall, where the door warden asked for her weapons. "I have none, sir, only empty scabbards. My weapons were lost when my company was attacked and I was taken." The warden looked at her in surprise and concern, but ushered her onward and announced her to the king.
She knelt down with a bow of her head, rendering the customary courtesies. "I bring you urgent news, Lord Theoden." Briefly she told as much of her story as secrecy permitted, and some among the guard in the room shifted uneasily, for many parts of her tale confirmed the report of the now imprisoned Eomer. "Saruman is mustering a very great army, and his next attack will come soon."
The king's counselor made the first reply. "And why should we believe you?" he said. "A child, and a stranger, whose fathers were not of this land, come riding from the north?"
"I have seen it with mine own eyes," the girl replied indignantly. "For myself I would sooner leave you to your affairs and journey east to the land of my fathers of which you speak. But I came here first, to warn you of Saruman's plans." She turned her gaze back to the king. "You have maybe a few days at most, Lord, I urge you call your muster, and prepare at least for the defense of the city."
"Silence!" said the struggling old king with a chilled voice. "You have not been asked for counsel, child, nor would I trust to take it from you. My counselor asked you a question. Why should we believe you? Why would Saruman let his captive go? Whom do you serve?"
"I smell a spy in our midst, lord!" hissed the counselor. "I advise you to hold her also along with your treacherous sister-son! Perhaps Mundberg would like to know of this child of theirs, or imposter perhaps, meddling in our affairs."
Elraen became restive. "I am no spy!" she shot back, casting back her cloak. "I am no imposter." The armor of Galadriel and her gold lined silvery grey tunic shimmered wondrously in the firelight. And they saw this young maiden, but a child just approaching womanhood she seemed at first, standing fair and proud, and though she was raised in Rohan she had a different air altogether from their people. It seemed many different things at once: gentle as pleasant a summer breeze, yet lofty as the pure chill air at the mountain tops, yet still with the power of a rare and terrible storm hidden just beneath the surface. Grim she now seemed indeed, standing so regally with such an impatience some almost began to wonder if she had really come to take charge of their kingdom for herself.
"I am Elraen!" she continued, her voice now stern and impatient, "Daughter of Prince Marasir, last of the Royal House of King Anarion! I am not now with Saruman because I would not serve him. For I serve only the Lords of the West." With those last words her mood cooled again, but as she spoke them the high and wholesome air her foster father had once sensed seemed to breathe into the room, and those who had been afield with Eomer were left with no doubt of her kinship to Gondor and the great man of lineage they had met the day before. All in the room held still, and looked to the King for his reaction.
She relaxed her stance again, and the air cleared. She continued, "As for what was in Saruman's mind or heart when he let me leave Isengard I could not tell you, for I do not know."
The princess straightened her back and lifted her chin. "King Theoden, Lord of the Mark," she declared proudly, "I intend to go onward to Gondor, to help as I can, if I can. But I was raised in safety in the mountain hills looking over these fair plains," she said, gesturing toward the northern end of the White Mountains, "amid the herdsmen and horse lords who guard these lands. Of battle strategy I know little. But I do know that you must act, now. Would you have your fair country overrun by Orcs, its people slain or enslaved?"
The aged king looked at this young girl, pondering, as if he were now in doubt. She was but a child, who had never seen the land of her forefathers, yet spoke as one with rank and responsibility there.
Elraen glanced around the room. She was growing impatient, and, if the King wasn't going to listen, anxious to leave. A strong wind whistled wildly outside. It managed to breeze into the room through the windows and shake the great doors, and make the hearth fire and sconce torches dance up high.
The counselor gasped, looking around the room in alarm and, seeing the doubt churning on his lord's face, scurried back to sit by the throne. The lady standing by in the shadows looked on in surprise but did not move.
"My Lord!" the counselor continued in a low voice. "There is something very strange about her. Are we really to believe she persuaded such a powerful being as the White Wizard to let her go freely? She's an agent in his employ! It's a trap, I tell you!"
With that the king fell back under the counselor's spell, and in the end he resolved to detain her.
Elraen sighed softly and let her shoulders slump forward in defeat, as the guards led her away. She bent her mind to Sunstreak and bade her to flee into the hills. 'Oh how I wish Gandalf were here!' she thought to herself. 'He had such an easy way of talking sense into people'. Her thoughts returned to the present. Now what? It would not do to force her way out. She now realized suddenly that she was also very tired, and resigned to wait until morning to decide.