"I remember when you first came here," Háma told Ailith blearily. "I've never seen such a dejected looking child. And now look at you! A true Flower of Rohan!"
She laughed silkily. "Nay, my lord! I am afraid you have picked the Thistle of Rohan! If you wish to see the Flower then you must seek out the Lady Éowyn!"
She stood on tip-toe and planted a kiss on the doorward's cheek. He harrumphed to himself and then ambled off towards the mead.
The feast had been its usual splendour of wild boar and there had indeed been many songs. Now the men were drinking heavily and the women moved among them, bestowing their kisses. At least, the Rohirrim women did. The four Gondorian women huddled in a corner, whispering furiously, and glared out at anyone who approached them, male or female.
Someone touched Ailith's sleeve. She turned and swept into a curtsey when she saw her King.
"My lord," she said politely.
"I have heard a story of a certain young lady spinning a yarn to the ladies of Gondor about some practices of the court," he said, warmly but firmly. Her eyes widened.
"I am from the Wold, my lord! We tend to the sheep of your kingdom; spinning yarn is what we do!" she said wittily. He laughed heartily.
"You really are a card, Ailith!"
"There must be a Joker in every pack!" she said. Still laughing, he offered his cheek to her. She fondly kissed it and he moved away, chuckling at her boldness.
She pushed her way through the crowd to the table with the ale and picked up a tankard. She swirled the brown liquid thoughtfully and then sipped it tentatively. Not bad. She could see why the men liked it so much.
A familiar sigh alerted her to the presence of Éowyn.
"I've spent the entire night trying to avoid Gríma," she grumbled. Ailith hurriedly looked over her shoulder and saw him edging casually towards them.
"Better move," she said, raising the tankard to hide her mouth moving. "He's coming this way."
Éowyn groaned and slipped between two Riders. Ailith took a long drink of her ale and wandered back into the throng. Yes, she thought, she could definitely get a taste for this. She milled around the men, giving away more kisses and drinking more ale, until eventually she caught the disapproving eye of Ivorwen.
She marched across the Hall and stopped in front of Ivorwen. The Gondorian's lip curled as she swayed slightly backwards and forwards.
"Lady Ivorwen, is there a problem?" she asked sweetly.
"I've been informed that you may have lied to me earlier," the girl said moodily. Ailith looked at the ground.
"Sorry. You were rather insulting about my people. We aren't savages," she said.
"I'm just not used to this," Ivorwen admitted, looking around the hall. "Do you really not mind kissing them?"
Ailith shrugged. "We've always done it. And not just at Edoras. All across Rohan tonight, similar celebrations are taking place. One of my earliest memories is being carried into my father's hall by mother to kiss our men."
"Even the King though! It's not right."
"It's just a kiss! Besides, a stallion doesn't have only one mare," she explained. Ivorwen frowned.
"A horse is just a beast to make our lives easier," she said dismissively. Ailith's mouth fell open and she looked around quickly to make sure no one else had heard her. She gripped Ivorwen's arm tightly, the other girl crying out as her nails dug in.
"If you say that then I say that the White Tree of Gondor is little more than firewood," she hissed. "You are in the land of the Horse People. Never say those words again."
"My mother says that a woman who drinks is a disgrace to herself and her family," snarled Ivorwen as she snatched her arm away.
"A disgrace? Everyone knows whose bed your mother shares! That is a disgrace!" Ailith shouted as the girl swept away.
"I am sure after that display, Théoden will make you an ambassador to Denethor and you shall bewitch all of Minas Tirith with your tongue," Éomer said, slipping up beside her.
"Oh, wonderful. Why is it whenever I step out of line, you are ready and waiting to pull me back," she growled. Angrily, she drained the last of her ale. He smiled.
"As a brother to a beautifully docile sister, I feel compelled to use my brotherly instincts to help girls who are not as quiet as she," he said.
"How charming. When I am next stuck up a tree, I will shout across the plains for you to come charging to my rescue with all the might of the Eorlingas behind you," she said, lifting the tankard again. She peered into it with disgust. "Empty," she muttered. He pulled the cup from her grasp.
"Even ale does not dull your tongue. Does anything?" he joked. She gave him a withering look that was aimed more over his shoulder than at his face. "I have never seen anyone so affected by one tankard of ale before," he said, grabbing her shoulders and peering in her eyes.
"Are you wanting a kiss or not?" she snapped. He patted her tenderly.
"No, thank you. I think Théodred might appreciate one however."
"Shove Ivorwen towards him like his father wants and if he still wants me then get him to ask me himself," she replied. "Now, if you excuse me, I have to rescue your sister from Gríma."
He watched her walk across the Hall, swaying slightly admittedly, and slip her arm through Éowyn's. The two girls held a whispered conference and then vanished from his sight.
His cousin detached himself from a group of Riders and approached him.
"Well?" he said, handing Éomer a fresh tankard. Éomer looked at him sympathetically.
"She suggests Ivorwen."
Théodred scoffed. "I want a Rohirrim girl for my Queen, not a Gondorian," he said venomously.
"And out of all of them, you choose Ailith? She won't listen to you; she won't be a submissive Queen. You do realise that, don't you?"
Théodred shrugged. "She is good company, she is intelligent and she will give me fine children."
He grinned at Éomer wickedly.
"Well, you know the next step," his cousin replied, holding out his tankard. They smirked at each other and clanked the tankards together.