Notes, Warnings etc

I am once again altering the details a little. In the timeline there is a three day discrepancy from when Théoden's body was returned to Edoras to when his funeral was held. I'm going to use that time to have the people of Edoras say farewell to their King.

This is kinda a filler chapter but after over a month I thought better give you something to mull over.

Chapter Thirty-Three - A New World

The Elves of Imladris and of Lothlórien and the men of Rohan who had travelled to Gondor to witness the wedding of Aragorn and Arwen stayed in the southern state for the remainder of June and the first half of July. Despite being guests of the King and the protests of both Aragorn and Dídauar, Elrond and Erestor set about aiding the scribes and legislators of Gondor with the legal details of both the King's marriage and the redevelopment of the country while Haldir and Rúmil, along with Legolas and Gimli, travelled to the southern border of Ithilien to aid in the continuing battle against the Haradrim and Elven twins and Glorfindel ventured into the northern region of the forest to once more do battle with Orcs.

On a more intimate level, the relationship that had begun between Faramir and Éowyn while they were both ensconced in the Houses of Healing during the spring was not a delusion or passing fancy created by two lonely souls desperate for comfort. It quickly became a regular occurrence to see the pair together out with the obvious meetings of mealtime. Of course, they were not permitted to wander far without someone appearing as a chaperone, Éowyn being the young, and as of yet, unattached, sister of the Rohirric King, and Faramir being the Steward of Gondor. Despite their unwanted attendants however, the relationship between the young Lord and the White Lady matured and deepened and mid way through the second week of July, Faramir approached Aragorn and Imrahil, requesting permission to marry, and then Éomer to formally request his sister's hand. Éomer, who had been indulging in a glass of wine as he studied a diagram of the fourth level – the young King had insisted that he also be permitted to offer his aid while he was in the City – had choked on the ruby liquid as Faramir voiced his request. Recovering himself, Éomer considered Faramir before answering so emphatically that one would be forgiven for thinking he was the one who had just been proposed to. Fortunately after that performance, Éowyn had also consented to the engagement and the joyous news was announced to the general populace of Minas Tirith on the fifteenth day of July.

Around this time, Frodo was starting to get itchy feet. Both he and Sam had fully recovered from their travels to Mordor and all four Hobbits were beginning to get anxious to return to the homeland they had left nearly a year ago. Not thinking it would be either clever or polite just to disappear from the City, Frodo approached Aragorn and Arwen as they sat beneath the now fully blossoming White Tree.

"Frodo!" greeted Aragorn, opening his arms to the Hobbit. Frodo scuffed his feet a little before stepping into the brief embrace. He still found it difficult to accept that the Ranger they had met in Bree, and been none to polite to either, was the same man who was now sitting in front of him, bedecked in royal regalia, an Elven Lady by his side.

"You are troubled," observed Arwen.

"Troubled is not the word I would use, my Lady. Instead, I am anxious to return home. I feel I have been away long enough," said Frodo. "And I miss Bilbo. I was disappointed to find that he was not at your wedding."

"You sound surprised at that," said Aragorn. "Your uncle is old, Frodo. While he seemed fit and spry when he had the Ring, it did not stop him from aging. It only delayed the showing of the physical signs. The journey to Gondor is not an easy one for someone of Bilbo's age."

"All the years your uncle seemed to have been spared have caught up with him very quickly," continued Arwen. "He will now only make one more journey. He has been accorded the gift of the Elves and if it is his wish, Bilbo may pass into the West and receive the peace of the Blessed Realm."

"Then I must go quickly if I am to reach Rivendell before he leaves," said Frodo, seeming panicked by the idea of being unable to say goodbye to the Hobbit who had raised him as a father.

"Before you go, I have one last gift for you Frodo," said Arwen, reaching up to unclasp the tear-shaped jewel that hung around her neck.

"My Lady, you have given me too much already," protested Frodo as Arwen pressed the jewel into his hand.

"Gifts are mine to chose who and when I give them," chided Arwen gently. "In choosing to marry Aragorn, I have chosen the same fate as my uncle, Elros. Since the Realm of Valinor is now beyond my reach, I send you in my place. If the pain and memories of your journey become too much, travel into the West and you will find your rest."

Frodo blinked in amazement, his gaze flicking between Arwen and the jewel in his hand. "Thank you," he whispered, closing his fist over the jewel and bowing smartly to the royal couple. "Thank you."

"I take it we will escorting some additional guests when we leave the City," said Dídauar as she arrived with Culas, dodging Frodo as he hurried past.

"Four," said Aragorn. "Frodo is eager to return home and I doubt Sam will remain in Gondor without him. Merry has already expressed his desire to be part of Théoden's funeral escort and I do not foresee Pippin remaining here on his own. Now, Culas, pray stop fidgeting with your sleeve and tell me what is on your mind."

"I would like to remain in Minas Tirith," said Culas quietly. Aragorn canted his head.

"Oh? Why?" he asked.

"To learn," said Culas. "I want to learn the trade of the healers and, no offence to the Lord Elrond, I would feel more comfortable doing that here rather than in Imladris."

"Kalya?" asked Aragorn. "You're his Captain."

"And you're his Chieftain," reminded Dídauar, folding her arms. "I have no problem with him staying but only if you say that you will look after him. Under Gondorian law, he will need a sponsor until he comes of age."

"He is kin and will be treated as such," replied Aragorn. "Have you spoken to Nemír and Tarcil about this?" Culas fidgeted again.

"I was hoping you could help me with that part," said the youth. "I think Tarcil will agree, but Nemír will probably bring up my father."

"Alright. Ladies, I will see you at evening meal. Culas, let us find our illusive kin," said Aragorn, kissing Arwen quickly before standing up and throwing an arm around Culas' shoulders. Dídauar quickly took Aragorn's vacated seat.

"You were right," she said without preamble. Arwen canted her head.

"What about?"

"You told me that everything would turn out alright," replied Dídauar. "And I want to thank you for that. I don't think I could have got this far without your words."

"Kalya, was it not you that told the Lady Éowyn that you cannot give people what they do not already have?" asked Arwen. Dídauar nodded, not really caring how her foster-sister, turned sister-by-law, knew about that particular conversation.

"For you to have travelled this far, you must have already had some hope that the end was near," continued Arwen.

"You still have my thanks," said Dídauar. "Now, how are you finding Minas Tirith?"

Théoden's funeral escort left Minas Tirith on the nineteenth day of July and the slow, respectful pace took eighteen9 days to reach Edoras. Among the mingled guard of Rohirric and Gondorian soldiers sat Merry who was once more in uniform as he rode before Éomer on Firefoot. In his arms, Merry reverently carried Théoden's ancient sword – Herugrim. Pippin was also in uniform and was being carried behind Faramir. The predication that Pippin would attach himself to the young Steward had been proved correct as Pippin and Faramir quickly became an extension of each other, more often than not regaling each other with tales of their varying homelands and of the Boromir they remembered. Aragorn and Arwen rode behind Éomer and Éowyn, flanked by the Rohirric captains; Gamling, Erkenbrand, Elfhelm, along with Arahael, Dídauar, Legolas and Erestor, who had long trained as a warrior despite his chosen profession. Culas, Nemír and the Elven twins were ahead acting as scouts while the remaining Dúnedain mingled between the Elves and the Rohirric warriors with whom they had fought and bled.

The journey was uneventful, which either meant Culas, Nemír and the twins were acting as more than scouts or that the Orcs and Dunlendings had decided to leave Rohan alone. Éomer could only pray that it was the latter. The people of Edoras had lined the streets of their hilltop city and everyone, man, woman and child, went to their knees and removed any type of cloth that covered their head, as their fallen King was carried on a litter up to the Golden Hall. Somewhere in the crowd a voice cried out a lament that was soon echoing around the city.

"What are they saying?" asked Arahael quietly, turning to Dídauar who was whispering the chant as well.

"An evil death has set forth the noble warrior. A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels in Meduseld that he is no more, to his lord dearest and kinsmen most beloved," replied Dídauar. "It is not just for Théoden but all those who we cannot welcome home with open arms and joyful laughter."

"They are at peace," said Elrohir gently as he wrapped his arms around Dídauar, switching instantly from the role of battle hardened warrior to comforting foster-brother as they watched Éomer, Gamling, Erkenbrand and Elfhelm be joined by Grimbold and Éothain in carrying the litter up the stone steps to the Golden Hall. Éowyn and Faramir followed with Merry and Pippin taking up the rearguard. Dídauar leant back in the embrace, soaking up the calming presence that the Elf-knight offered and smiled gently, pride swelling within her as she watched the new generation of Rohan come into its own. Behind them, strains of a ballad reached their ears, the voice of Gléowine the Minstrel proud as he told of his King's heroic charge towards Gondor.

"Forth rode the King, fear behind him, fate before him.
Fealty kept he; oaths he had taken, all fulfilled them….."

"He is more than worthy of the Halls of his fathers," murmured Aragorn as he appeared at their side. "May Béma receive the son of this land and grant him the peace he was long due."

Dídauar had a terrible habit of becoming lost whenever she was in Rohan. No, that is not strictly true. She knew exactly where she was, having run wild in the fields and dells for twenty-three years, the problem was no one else knew where she ran. Gamling, Erkenbrand and Grimbold all suspected where she was but they also knew that if they looked for her, it was most likely that she would become her namesake of the North. It was safer for all concerned just to leave her to work to her own schedule. Aragorn also suspected where she had gone, having run with his sister on a few occasions but he also knew that she would not return if pressured. They had spent too long apart already and were preparing to spend at least the next year at opposite corners of the world, Aragorn was not about to drive a wedge between them that would make that distance of both time and space any larger than it needed to be.

"How can you guarantee her safety?" exclaimed Glorfindel, rounding on the bear like Captain. Erkenbrand was not intimidated by the Elf Lord which was an achievement in itself, Glorfindel having the ability to intimidate Erestor and Elrond on occasion.

"You doubt her skill? After the feats she achieved at Helm's Deep and Pelennor?" asked Erkenbrand in amazement. "And let us not forget the twenty-two years she spent in the King's personal guard and that you helped in her training."

"I trust her with my life, but I do not like the idea of the newly restored heir to the Gondorian throne wandering alone," replied Glorfindel. "Sauron is defeated but his servants are not. Saruman is still a threat, even without his staff and Orcs do not need a master to tell them to capture or slay."

"But they do need motivation. One warrior is hardly worth the effort, especially when she is less than a day away from this City," replied Erkenbrand. Glorfindel's eyes narrowed.

"You know where she is," the Elf hissed.

"I suspect," emphasised Erkenbrand. "And no, I will not tell you. You said you trust her. Try demonstrating that trust. If she is not back by sundown tomorrow, I will send out a search party."

"You said she was less than a day away!"

"You are free to search for her before then, but I have seen her become like a wraith should she not wish to be found," said Erkenbrand, clearly not going to be shifted in his decision as he dug out a scroll from the pile in front of him. Glorfindel scowled at the man for another minute before turning sharply on his heel and nearly colliding with Erestor and Aragorn as he left the barracks.

"Glorfindel?" asked Erestor, catching his balance.

"Kalya has done a disappearing act again," snapped Glorfindel. "And that man suspects where she is but is refusing to do anything about bringing her back!"

"Glorfindel, the people of Rohan, especially of Edoras are as loyal to Kalya as the Dúnedain are," said Aragorn gently, urging the golden warrior to sit down. "They could all have seen where she has run but if she desires solitude, they will not tell."

"She has done this before? Where is she?" demanded the Elf.

"Every time she lost a warrior," said Aragorn. "But as with these people, I will not tell you where she has run. This is her way of dealing with the changes that have come over this world. She will not miss Théoden's funeral tomorrow, leave her be and she will be back in the morning."

"Then I will stay with her during the night. Give me a clue so that I may look myself," said Glorfindel. Aragorn canted his head at the Elf, studying him.

"Look to the east," he said eventually. "I will tell you no more."

Dídauar sat before two green tombs, lightly running the pad of her thumb over the petals of the white Simblemynë flower she cradled in her hand.

"We won my friends," she said, a small smile on her lips. "The war is finally over. And yes, your country is still in one piece. Mostly. Meduseld is in serious need of having the gold polished and Helm's Deep is missing a few bricks, but they are still standing tall and proud. We lost so many little ones though. I'm sure Théodred is running you ragged already and I am sure you have finally met Boromir. Whatever you do, do not leave that pair alone together. They are worse at pulling pranks than my own brothers and they were ten when I last saw one of their tricks. Théoden and Denethor should keep them in line though, if they can be dragged away from their chessboard. Do you know there is still a game set up mid-play in a corner of the Hall? Erestor is itching it finish it – he took one look at the board as saw that the blacks were two moves away from winning – but he doesn't want to disturb the cobwebs. Said something about the gossamer threads giving the set an ethereal beauty, like a moment caught in time. I personally think it's because he's scared of evicting some spiders. Who would have thought, the brave, battle hardened Councillor of Imladris, who can bring even the most obnoxious of petitioners to their knees with a few well chosen words is scared of spiders.

"Éomer is King now, Théodwyn's son. He is ruthless but fair, just like his parents. Rohan will prosper under him, all he needs to do now is find a bride. I think the daughter of Dol Amroth has caught his eye but he is so in awe of her father, he might need a bit of persuasion. And Éowyn is following in her grandfather's footsteps. She is leaving for Gondor and marriage come the spring. I know it's not the traditional year's engagement but I have never seen a couple more in love. I would marry them tomorrow if it were in my power. I wish you could see her, she is so beautiful. She has Éomund's honey coloured hair but everything is from Théodwyn, from the colour of her eyes to her personality. I almost thought it was Théodwyn we found unconscious on the battlefield, they both do the armour of Rohan proud."

'Kalya!' yelled a familiar voice suddenly, interrupting Dídauar's monologue. The Dúnedain jerked her head up, listening for the call again.

'Kalya, where are you?'

"I have to go," whispered Dídauar to the tombs before her, moving into a crouch as she waited for yet another call so that she could exact Glorfindel's location. "I will return as soon as I can."

'This is no time for games, Kalya. The sun will set in two hours and it is safer to return to Edoras,' called Glorfindel again. Dídauar snapped her in the direction of the voice, finding Glorfindel searching just under half a mile away from her.

"Namárië, mellon nîn" muttered Dídauar before springing off quick as a gazelle and as silently as a mouse between the surrounding burial mounds before reaching the plains and heading for a rocky outcrop about two miles north of Edoras where she, Aragorn, Eadwig and Cempa had often retreated when the atmosphere of the city became too oppressive for any of them. No one had ever found them there, making Dídauar feel safe in her solitude. (Farewell, my friends)