It's ten o'clock Christmas night, and I'm managing to make an update! :D Not all that I wanted is included in this chapter, but it was already getting long so I'll let it be for now :) Anywho, I hope you all enjoy it, and have had very Merry Christmases, each and every one of you, wherever you are! Cheers! xx
Disclaimer: I own none of LOTR - it is entirely Tolkien's genius. And any dialogue and such from the movies are credit to P. Jackson and Co.
"You look beautiful milady! Although I do wish you woulds let me do your hair up all nice-like again. Really looked wonderful last time."
"Thank you, Lynwen, but I am more comfortable with it down. Not that your skill with the styling of hair isn't good, I am just simply more comfortable-"
"Like this." The maid finished for her. "Yes, yes, I know. Will you at least let me pull the front back, to keep it away from your pretty little face?"
Alandria sighed, and waved her hand lazily. "Alright, as you wish." Lynwen smiled, and immediately set to work pulling the first several strands of hair on each side of Alandria's face around to the back, and pinning them there firmly. "I still don't understand why you take orders from me, Lynwen." Alandria commented, and the maid simply chuckled.
"Because it's my duty, milady."
"Your duty to wait on a deceased soldier's daughter? I doubt that."
Lynwen shrugged, still fussing with Alandria's dark hair. "My duty to do as the King or other's of such nature command. And in your case, yes, it 'appens to be waiting on a deceased soldier's daugher- wait you mean your Da is dead?"
Alandria sighed again, softer this time, less frustrated. "Yes. He fell in the Battle, the one we're celebrating tonight."
"Ah dearie, I am sorry to hear that."
"Is no matter. I am not the only one that suffered a loss, most lost entire families.."
"True, it is a horror, what this battle left be'ind. And to think there'll likely be more yet!" Alandria didn't reply, and Lynwen noticed her silence. "Dark thoughts dear, sorry for expressin' them aloud. I must say though, this time I am glad you're a bit more conversational. Last time I hads you in 'ere, you acted like the lights were on but no one was 'ome! Bit unnervin', if you know what I mean."
Alandria smiled faintly. "Yes, I suppose I do. Sorry Lynwen, last time I-"
"No no dear, no apologizin'. Last time was dear Lord Théodred, this time it's your own father! I am surprised you're not the same as before! Harsh life, dear, eh?"
"Yeah." Alandria murmured, but wasn't sure if Lynwen heard. Either way, the talkative maid finally stepped back from Alandria, and the Lady-Rider took it as a sign that she was free. She stood, and then glanced at herself in the small looking-glass on the wall. Her dark hair fell in deep waves down her shoulders and chest, although more of her sun-goldened face was revealed than usual. Her deep green eyes were like emerald gems, lined with the black lashes, expressed by her slender dark brows. Her face was leaner than she remembered, and beneath her eyes, her pale skin was tinted darkly. Thankfully though, she did not look nearly as weary as she felt.
"See, what did I tell ya? Beautiful, milady." Alandria flushed at Lynwen's comments, and shook her head. "And the Lady Éowyn's dress looks marvelous on you, just as last time!"
Alandria looked down at the wine-colored dress. The deep red was soft, the long sleeves and corset-area even darker, and with rich gold embordiery twisting in knots of warm flowers down the shoulders. "Aye, it's beautiful. I only wish someday I could manage to have my own dresses look like this!" She chuckled half-heartedly, then sighed and looked back up at Lynwen. "Thank you."
"Nah, milady, is my duty, as I said." The elderly woman smiled kindly. "And my pleasure."
"Still, I thank you. You are very kind. And are you not joining us for the celebration tonight?"
"Nay, I've got kitchen duty. Making foods, taking dishes, and the like. Probably wouldn't be out there anyway. The going-ons in the Hall are not my kind of interest, if you understand."
Alandria smiled slightly. "Aye, I do. I hope then your kitchen duty is not too hectic, and you have at least a moment of peace to enjoy a good cup of mead."
Lynwen laughed. "Oh I'll be sure to do that, milady! Lords know I'll need it before the night is out! Now on with ya, girl. Don't want to keep anyone waitin'!"
"Alright Lynwen, alright. I'm on my way. Thank you, again."
"Pah." The maid waved her hand in dismissal, and opened the door, nudging Alandria out it. "On you go! I can hears people talkin' already!"
Alandria merely smiled in reply, hearing the voices herself, and stepped further out the door. It shut solidly behind her, and she smiled faintly, shaking her head. She took a breath then in unease, and smoothed out the already-smooth dress, then walked slowly down the hallway, towards the glow of firelight in the Hall. As she came nearer the voices were louder, and she was able to hear both Merry and Pippin, along with Gimli and Théoden. She rounded the large wooden pillar, and joined the company in the bright, fire-lit Golden Hall.
More pairs of eyes turned towards her than voices she had heard, and she realized that Lynwen had been right - she was running a little late. How was beyond her, but all already stood there in the hall - King Théoden, Lord Éomer, Lady Éowyn, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Merry and Pippin. Gamling was there a moment, but at Théoden's nod, strode towards the doors of Meduseld. An instant later a clear note on a horn rang out. Several guards in the Golden Hall that had survived quickly appeared, and Alandria only then noticed many maids already bustling around, pulling out a few extra tables, and filling a table with mugs of ale and mead, another with meats, breads, and cheeses.
"So Lynwen was right then - I am late?" She asked, a slight smile on her lips.
"Nay, just on time." Théoden replied, smiling broadly. "We have not been here long. Your little hobytla friends here arrived only just before you!"
"Not our fault we ain't had a proper bath in weeks." Merry huffed defiantly, but held his fierce posture for but a second, and then had his attention taken by Pippin, who'd spotted the drinks laid out. The rest of the company chuckled and smiled as the hobbits quickly made their way to the ale, spotting the food as well.
"I believe they're showing us how to properly celebrate!" Théoden chuckled, and then glanced up as the first several men of the town arrived through the Doors. He looked back at those near him and smiled, bowed his head, then turned and settled into his wooden throne, holding the appearance of his title with pride.
"You look lovely again, lass." Alandria looked down at the politely gruff voice beside her, and smiled gently.
"Thank you, Gimli." He nodded, and then shuffled away. Alandria looked back up and caught the warm blue gaze of Legolas, who bowed politely with a soft smile. Aragorn did the same, before wandering away to speak with a man that had recently arrived. Éowyn appeared beside Alandria then, smiling broadly.
"Thank you for the dress, my lady." Alandria murmured, still holding her slight smile.
"Of course, I am glad to share with you! Honestly, I am just glad you are alive."
Alandria flushed, embarrassed still about deserting her in the caves. "Éowyn I am sorry I left you. I was irrational, and could think of nothing else than to be part of that battle. I could not-"
"Nay," The golden-haired lady shook her head, still smiling, wide blue eyes untroubled. "It is understood."
"You are not angry?"
"I was, Alandria, I certainly was! But I remembered your words of a proper death, and understood. And now we have victory, and you are alive. There is no point in anger anymore."
Alandria smiled slightly more easily, warmed by her friend's understanding. "Thank you, milady."
"I only hope you don't give my sister any more foolish ideas."
Alandria started at the deep voice behind her, and turned, her eyes falling upon the tall figure of the Lord Éomer. She smiled nervously, and glanced back at Éowyn. "I don't think she needs my help for that, lord."
The man smiled, standing idle beside them, and Alandria was pleased to see him so much more relaxed than when she had first run into him those many days ago, on the plains. "True, no doubt. Perhaps than you shall help keep her out of whatever trouble they may cause?"
"I'll do my best, lord."
He smiled warmly again, and then his dark eyes brushed modestly down her body, before raising again to meet hers. "The dress looks lovely on you, my lady."
Alandria flushed slightly, smiling faintly. "Thank you, milord. Your sister was kind enough to lend it."
"I thought I recognized it. You look lovely in it." His dark eyes held hers, and they both fell silent, the dark hazel of his stare searching in her green gaze, curiousity clearly blazing.
"It looks as though uncle is about to make a speech," Éowyn interrupted the odd moment, and both Alandria and Éomer broke away, looking to the fair Lady. "I presume I should get him a drink, to raise with the men...pardon me." She smiled briefly at them both, and disappeared into the surprisingly dense crowd.
"Éowyn is right. Our uncle will likely make a speech now. I should go and be at his side. Excuse me, my lady." The tall Horse-lord bowed politely, and Alandria returned it as he made his way towards Théoden at the throne.
The room felt silent then, as others took notice of Théoden at his throne, Éomer standing proud behind him, to the right. Éowyn appeared before the throne and approached her uncle with a goblet of wine, bowing her head as she gave it to him. Alandria then realized she herself didn't yet have a drink, and turned in haste to get one. She was saved though by Legolas, as the fair Elf appeared at her elbow, a mug of mead extended. She smiled in relief, and whispered a thanks as she took the mug, then turned her attention back to Théoden, who stood gazing out at the many expectant faces before him.
He raised forward his drink, and Aragorn stood, triggering a reaction for all others in the Hall to stand as well, raising their drinks. "Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!"
"Hail!" All in the Hall echoed, and drank from their mugs. Alandria took a hearty drink from hers, long deprived of the taste of anything but water, and quietly sighed in content. Théoden said no more, choosing rather to let the men gathered enjoy themselves for the night, and not bring up the memories of the Battle, most of which were still too fresh.
Alandria saw Legolas still standing near her and smiled faintly. "And what activities shall receive your attentions tonight, Master Legolas?"
The Elf's blue gazed rovved around the room, already bustling with activity and filled with the chatter of content peoples, and he seemed faintly amused. "To watch foolish men drink themselves into oblivion sounds entertaining enough."
She laughed lightly. "No doubt it will be. Why don't you participate?"
"Participate in what?"
"Drinking!" A low gurgle of a reply came from beside them, and both Elf and Woman turned to see Gimli. "I challenge the little Elf-Prince here to a battle - of drink!" He chuckled then, already having had a few ales, but his request was heard.
"Will you take his challenge then?" Éomer asked Legolas, leaning against a barrel of ale.
Legolas studied both the Man and Dwarf for a moment, before slowly nodding. "Aye, I'll take whatever challenge my friend here presents." Alandria smiled to herself and shook her head, settling into a chair several feet away with a sigh.
"Good then." Éomer smiled, and filled up two mugs with drink, before handing them to his contesants. "No pauses, no spills-"
"And no regurgitations!" Gimli grinned, eagerly taking the mug, the drunken roar of spectators following.
"So it's a drinking game?" Legolas asked, appearing to have only just understood.
"Last one standing wins!" Gimli grinned again and chuckled, before slurping greedily at the ale. Legolas' drink was much more careful, just a sip, and then as he realized the drink was nothing to be feared, he gulped it down quickly. Gimli however was already done, and his fist thumped the table for another. Éomer quickly obliged, and then immediately handed Legolas another. Yet again the Dwarf gulped and slurped his down noisily, whereas Legolas was elegant as ever, the ale still quickly disappearing. Alandria snorted and looked away in disgust, taking another sip of her own sweeter drink.
Her gaze fell upon the fair Lady Éowyn, and she was sharing a drink with Aragorn. The two stared at each other for a long moment, and Alandria wished to clearly see both their faces, to perhaps understand what they both were thinking. Éowyn had not shown yet to be lessened in her adoration of the Ranger, and Alandria was never sure how he responded to the Lady's advances. She knew he would never forsake his lady in Rivendell, but Éowyn did not seem swayed. Théoden approached her friend then, as Aragorn stepped away. His gaze was kind upon his neice, but then shifted to a faint image of saddness that Alandria did not understand. She looked away, ashamed to be watching conversations not meant for her so intently, and took another drink of the mead she held, savoring it's taste. She looked again to the Dwarf and Elf still going at their game, and smirked at the sight of the Dwarf with the white foam of the ale caught in his beard, and even on to his nose. Legolas had not the slightest spill or drip on him, and continued to steadily wash down the drinks.
Gimli lifted himself up from his seat for a moment, and although Alandria could not hear it, she knew what he was doing. Éomer heard it apparently, and glanced over at the Dwarf as he filled another mug, appearingly faintly disturbed by the action. Gimli only laughed drunkenly, accepting yet another drink to his ever-growing pile. "Ahr! It's the Dwarves that go swimming, with little hairy women!" His sentence was loud and drunk and followed by laughter of other drunken Men, as Legolas downed another drink with ease. Gimli plunged his hairy face into another foaming mug, as Legolas raised his hand, peering intently at his fingers.
Alandria wondered if the drink was finally playing with his mind, just as his words carried to her, "I feel something.." She glanced at Éomer, and saw with a smile as his eyebrows raised, clearly wondering what the hell the Elf was made of. "A slight tingle in my fingers.." Legolas continued, then looked over at Gimli with concern. "I think it's effecting me."
The Dwarf laughed loudly and crudely again, slamming down another empty mug, his face covered in wet drink and foam. "What did I say? 'e can't hold his..liquor.." Alandria watched in faint, horrified amusement as the Dwarf's eyes crossed, his body went slack, and he toppled over in his chair.
The pile of empty mugs before him was huge, but the Elf nearly matched and still had the ability of clear speech, not to mention consciousness. He raised his eyebrows at the body of his friend, then looked back at Éomer with a faint smile. "Game over."
The Third Marshall shook his head, smiling. "Nearly twenty mugs of ale, and all you've got to tell of it is a 'tingle in your fingers'. I've never understood Elves and after this, I never shall."
Legolas smiled in return. "Someday perhaps you should try our drinks. That would truly be a "drinking game"." He paused then, and looked down again at his fallen friend. "When do you think he'll be conscious?"
Éomer chuckled, a low, warm sound. "None can know for sure. We'll leave him there for now. I don't think any of us want to bother with a drunken Dwarf at the moment."
Legolas tilted his head slightly, studying his friend again with a faint amusement on his fair features, then shrugged. "Hm." Was his only reply, and he wove away into the drunken crowd.
Alandria shook her head slightly, drinking the last drop of her mead, and then raising her eyes to the face of the King's nephew as he approached.
"Evening." He greeted with a warm smile, and tilted his head in question. "You do not drink?"
"I drink." She replied simply, raising her empty mug.
"You do not drink with us?"
Alandria glanced pointedly behind him, to the body of the Dwarf in his drunken stupor. "Nay," She smiled faintly. "I prefer to keep my wits."
The man chuckled again and nodded. "Understood. You were watching then?"
"Most of it, yes. I don't think Gimli will ever live this down."
"Well if he's so pressed, I'm sure he could just claim the Elf has immeasurable immortal powers that give him immunity to drink, and thus was tricked."
Alandria stared at the golden-haired man for a moment, her lips twitching slightly, before her attempt at restraint proved useless. She burst out a strong laugh, one such as she didn't even remember having felt in weeks, and it was echoed by the Horse-lord. She didn't see the turquoise eyes that caught her cheer, and then observed the man that had caused it. Rather, she enjoyed the short laughter, and then chuckled again, shaking her head. "And I have no doubt he might." She smiled at the handsome man for a moment: his clothing loose and comfortable; his dark eyes warm and intelligent; his golden hair nearly glowing in the firelight, free from any ties and falling in loose waves past his shoulders. She shifted then, and stood, wordlessly making her way around him and to the barrels of drink.
"Here, let me." He offered, seeing her hand extend towards a tankard of mead. Alandria reluctantly gave him her mug and he filled it again with the wine, before handing it back with a smile, his rough hand brushing against hers.
"Thank you, my lord."
"Please," He shook his head, waving his hand dismissevly. "None of that 'my lord' rabble. I am so tired of it - can you at least call me by my proper name?"
Alandria's brows furrowed in confusion, and she began to argue. "But, my lord-"
"Éomer."
She ignored him, continuing. "What is proper is for one of lower standing to call those of higher standing their proper titles."
Éomer shrugged casually. "Must we always be proper? Is that, for instance?" He gestured to the unconscious Dwarf.
"Gimli doesn't count. Have you ever held a conversation with him?" She shook her head, smiling slightly.
Éomer chuckled again, then sighed. "Fair enough. But my sister and I - we are your friends, Alandria. More so Éowyn than I, yes, but we are friends none the less. Do you not call Lords Aragorn, Legolas, and even Master Gimli here, by their right names? Do Éowyn and I, whom you've lived with for years, not deserve that kindness as well?"
Alandria wanted to argue for reasons she didn't understand, but found no words to use. She'd never even considered calling Éowyn and Éomer by their actual names, mostly because she'd been taught not to. Although Éowyn was her friend, she was still a Lady, and Éomer a Lord, and Alandria was just a soldier's daughter. A deceased soldier's daughter, now. But she reluctantly nodded. "Yes..sir."
"Éomer."
"...Éomer."
He smiled again, warm and at ease. "See? Not so hard."
She merely smiled slightly in reply, and then was saved from any further conversation as, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Merry and Pippin scrambling onto a table. "I think we're about to receive a song.." She murmured and Éomer heard, following her gaze to the hobbits on the table. They seemed to be talking to someone at the side, who held a fiddle, and after appearing to attempt to conduct the Man for a few moments, they then raised their drinks and began dancing around the table-top, Men all about them, sitting at the table and standing, listening and laughing.
"Oh you can search far and wide, you can drink the whole town dry! But you'll still find the best brew 'round, is the one we drink in our hometown! You can drink your fancy ales, you can drink 'em by the flagon! But the only brew for the brave and trueee..." Here Pippin stopped his dancing and singing, coming to a halt and staring at Gandalf, who Alandria saw standing a ways away.
"Pippin!" Merry yelled, regaining his friend's attention, and they began dancing again.
"But the only brew for the brave and trueeee, comes from the Green Dragon!" With the clang of their mugs together they finished the song, and drank eagerly to the cheers of their viewers.
Alandria couldn't help but smile, and did so generously, applauding the performance. Éomer beside her did the same, shaking his head and smiling. "Your little friends have no shame."
"No," Alandria laughed shortly. "No they don't. I love them for it though." She sighed, not seeing the way his dark eyes studied her face, and took a sip of her mead before nodding towards the Lord. "If you would excuse me my lord." He merely bowed his head to her in reply, sighing softly and not neglecting to notice her calling him by his title.
Alandria slipped away from the tall Rider then, and had a few quick, polite words with Legolas, and then Théoden, before making her way towards her destination outside. She glanced around the bright room for a moment, seeing Éowyn laughing with Merry and Pippin, Legolas and Gandalf smiling and talking, Théoden walking around and speaking warmly with the gathered men, and then Aragorn and Éomer were spotted at a table; leaning towards each other, Aragorn talking and Éomer listening intently, dark hazel eyes wide and eager for whatever he heard. And then she slipped out the door, quickly shutting it behind her.
Night had fallen, and stars twinkled dimly in the dark sky. It was strangley silent outside the doors of the Golden Hall, although the murmur of cheer could still be easily heard through the thick wood. But she found herself more at ease away from the crowd, and more so away from the attentions of the Third Marshall. She held no grudge or anything of the like against him, no, but rather felt she was never sure what to say or how to act around him. And the intensity of his dark eyes was unnerving. It felt as though he was doing everything in his power to figure out something about her, without asking. She sighed softly then, choosing to forget the actions of the night so far, and once again choosing rather to dwell in memories.