The party of horsemen were first sighted by the morning watchmen. By midday, they were in Edoras. The King welcomed them into the Golden Hall and ordered that they were not to be disturbed.
Ailith and Éowyn, released from their duties for the day, decided to saddle their horses and ride out onto the Plains. Éowyn's mare was waiting patiently in her stall but Ailith's was not. She was tethered outside the stable, already saddled.
The Rohirrim saddled their own horses. Everyone, from the lowliest farmer to Théoden himself, saddled their own horses. It was the oldest law of Rohan and there was only one exception ever allowed.
Ailith breathed out slowly and then moved to her mare's head. There, in the bridle, was the bunch of violets.
She turned quickly to Éowyn. "Look! Some idiot has saddled my horse instead of yours!" she said brightly.
"No, my lady." It was one of the stable lads. "The suitor asked for the horse of the Lady Ailith, not the Lady Éowyn."
Ailith visibly blanched. For once, her quick tongue failed her.
"Well, who is it?" she demanded. There was a gasp from one of the watching women. She hastily dropped into a curtsey when Ailith turned her gaze on her.
"One does not ask, my lady. Your suitor will make himself known to you when he is ready," she trembled, her eyes fixed on the ground.
Éowyn touched her friend's shoulders and jumped back when she flinched. "They are right. There is nothing you can do," she said quietly.
"They all know, they all saw who it was. I feel like a fool," she growled. She bit her lip. "Why me? I thought you would be the first."
"We all did. Now however, it is you not I."
"Lady Ailith!"
They both turned and looked up at Háma. His eyes flicked past them to the flowers in Ailith's bridle and his mouth twitched with a smile.
"Lady Ailith, your presence is requested in the Golden Hall," he called. She exchanged a wary glance with Éowyn and then gathered up her skirts and ran to the Hall.
The men who had ridden into Edoras earlier that day were seated at the trestle tables by the fire. As they ate, their eyes watched her make her solitary way up the hall. Théoden was on his throne; the men's leader standing slightly to one side, his helmet respectfully in the crook of his arm. He looked vaguely familiar to Ailith.
She curtseyed.
"She has her mother's face," the man said.
"Child, do you like it here?" Théoden asked her. She looked up in surprise.
"Meduseld has been my home for nine years, my lord. You have treated me as one of your own," she said cautiously.
"Yet it is not your home and however dear you are to me, you are not my own. Would you like to see your home again?" he said. She didn't answer. He sighed and sat back in his throne. "This is Folcred," he said, indicating the man. "He is Captain of your father's men and he has come to take you back to the Wold."
"Must I?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor and tried to hide her trembling hands in the folds of her dress.
Folcred strode towards her. She peeked up at him through her lashes.
"Your father wishes to see you again, child. You should be more respectful," he said firmly. He started to pace around her.
"Can you read?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Do you know herb-lore?"
"Yes."
"Can you ride?"
She gave him a filthy look. "I'm Rohirrim. I ride as easily as I breathe."
He laughed. "Good. You are not entirely a lady of the court. We leave tomorrow."
He turned and started to walk towards his men.
"Tomorrow?" she said in a hollow voice. "That soon?"
"The North waits for no Man," he said coldly. "We would be leaving today if our horses did not need to rest."
She looked down at the floor again. One more night in Edoras. One more night with her friends.