AN: Sorry that this has taken a while to get out but I've been away. Please keep reviewing, I like reviews! Just a heads up that Ailith gets a bit crude.
"I cannot wait to be back in Minas Tirith and away from these dark halls!" Ivorwen announced. She gasped as Ailith tugged at the ribbons of her dress.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Was that too tight?" Ailith simpered. She didn't like these new dresses. Rohirrim dresses were a basic shift with a belt or a sash at the waist to pull it in. These were Gondorian dresses with ribbons at the back of the bodice and they took an age to do up properly.
"The mornings are so much fairer in Minas Tirith," Ivorwen continued. "The sun catches my rooms just as it rises and the white stone makes everything so much brighter. I don't know how you manage to live in these rooms. They are just so dark!"
Ailith's eyes met Éowyn's in the mirror. They both wanted to point out to Ivorwen that she was currently staying in the best guest bedroom, surpassed only by the Royal Bedchamber. She tied a bow in Ivorwen's ribbons and fetched one of the garlands her and Éowyn had weaved from the bed.
"No, unpick the flowers. I want them woven through my hair, not just on my head like a counrty bumpkin," Ivorwen commanded. Ailith looked past her into the mirror. Her own garland was already sitting on her strawberry blonde hair.
"Well, you can't have that," she said shortly, plonking the garland on the girl's head. "There are herbs in there too and you can't have them through your hair."
"Mine is different from yours!" she complained.
"Oh, give me strength," Ailith muttered under her breath. "There are two different garlands. One of remembrance and one of fertility. To represent the two sides of Spring. We remember what has passed in the previous year and we wish for the next to be fertile so we can live in comfort."
"Which one do I have?"
"Remembrance."
" Is that the one with symbol-monie?" she asked, shaking her long dark hair out over her shoulders.
"You mean simbelmynë," Éowyn corrected. "Yes, and rosemary."
"And the other one has hawthorn flowers and ivy," Ailith added.
Ivorwen pouted and examined the sharp cheekbones of her reflection. Ailith bit her lip and glanced at her own reflection. As much as she didn't like Ivorwen, she looked like a queen in the making. She had clear, pale skin and a beautiful face and voice. Her blue eyes shone like sapphires. Ailith's skin was lightly tanned from her hours under the sun and her freckles had spread from just her nose to across her cheeks. Her hair and eyes were bright but nothing special; most Rohirrim women had them. Éowyn's lighter shade of blonde and grey eyes were rarer.
"So, what are we going to do at this feast?" Ivorwen asked, breaking into Ailith's observations. She turned and sat on the bed with Éowyn, watching Ivorwen still twirling in front of the mirror.
"There will be dancing. And songs probably. And the feast itself. The men will get drunk," Éowyn told her. She wrinkled her nose. Ailith and Éowyn exchanged another look. If she didn't like that then she definitely was not going to like the next bit.
"And we have to bestow kisses on the men. For good luck," Ailith added. Ivorwen spun round with horror.
"Are you serious?" she gasped.
"Yes," Éowyn said honestly. "Nothing dirty or anything. Just a peck on the cheek like you would to your father."
"I knew Rohan was an uncivilised country," Ivorwen muttered, turning back to the mirror. Ailith swelled with anger.
"Of course, that is nothing compared to later," she said. Ivorwen froze. "Later the men choose the woman they want and we all fall on the rushes of Meduseld like in a common whore house," Ailith said drily.
That was too much for Éowyn, who scurried quickly from the room before Ivorwen could see her shoulders shaking with laughter.
"Are you serious?" Ivorwen repeated. Ailith widened her eyes in mock shock.
"Ivorwen, have you never had anyone before?" she said. Ivorwen shook her head. Ailith sighed expansively. "Well, I hope you are well rested. It's going to be a long night," she said and then swept from the room.
She hunched over in the corridor, a fist stuffed in her mouth so Ivorwen wouldn't hear her laughter.
"And that is going to improve our relationship with Gondor how exactly?" a voice said. She turned to see Éomer grinning at her.
"Come on, Éomer. You must be as tired as your sister and I are from these cows acting like they are better than us because they are from Gondor!" she laughed.
"The other three are lovely if you would just give them a chance. Ivorwen is just a spoilt girl whose family has recently found favour with the Steward. I'm curious as to how you know what a whore house is like," he said.
"And how would you know too? Is there an extra training exercise for the Riders which I haven't heard about?" she said breezily, taking his arm.
"I'm sure you hear it often enough but one day that mouth of yours will get you into trouble!" he said, smiling at her, an older brother to his rash younger sister.
The door opened and Ivorwen slipped out. She stopped dead when she saw Éomer.
"Lady Ivorwen! Looking forward to later?" he said, leering at her disgustingly. She squeaked a reply and ran along the corridor to the main hall as fast as her dress would allow.
Éomer and Ailith laughed together and then sauntered after her arm in arm. The feast was waiting.