Notes: I remember when I said chapter 5 was the halfway point. I lied and I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy the never ending saga of 'you two are idiots."
As she had promised, the wedding was in a field under open skies. There wasn't much mud, though Ella kept looking up at the sky and hoping that a stray cloud would start some rain just as the vows were said. That would make the wedding perfect, as far as she was concerned.
No one seemed to mind that the bride and groom had slight dark circles under their eyes. There was so much green and sun and wind that Ella almost doubted that anyone noticed. She liked watching the courtiers contend with their scarves and airy skirts being swept this way and that. It was like a dance. Ella was standing next to Amrothos and she had tied her own dress into a knot to gather all the fabric and keep it from flying up. Her hair was plaited with flowers and the tendrils kept hitting Amrothos in the face, but he was being a good sport about it. The siblings were holding hands, and Ella put her head on his shoulder. She knew Amrothos was thinking of the bride he had lost. He always did, during these sorts of things. She wondered if he would ever find another girl who could fit into his heart, or if he had spent so long mourning his Sienna that his heart was still raw. Not healing, not growing, not changing. She lifted his knuckles to her lips and kissed his hand before swinging their hands between them. I'll never leave you, silly brother. It'll be you and I forever, I bet.
Now that the wedding was in front of her, the gravity of it all hit her. She kept turning to look for Éomer and to find him looking at her, and neither of them seemed to know what the right thing to do was. A marriage was a contract. It was an alliance, and Gondor and Rohan were allied now. So few people could claim that love was involved too, and yet here they were with Faramir and Éowyn almost missing their cues because they were talking quietly to each other and were smiling too hard, laughing and crying a little bit.
This was the love of an age... but King Aragorn and his elven Queen were also the love of an age, and there seemed like there could be only so many ageless loves before everyone else would have to settle for an agreeable companion who did not snore or come to bed too late.
She could not imagine Éomer being someone who snored, but she could barely imagine actually coming to any bed that he was nearby. Unless he was ill.. andshe did not want to think of him being ill.
Amrothos bent down and kissed the top of her head. "It's well done, Birdy. If only you could take your eyes off of the King of Rohan long enough to admire your own work."
"Some of us are able to focus on two things at once, brother."
"He would be a good husband, if you can get Father to agree. He is wealthy and a true warrior. He calls many good men, including the King, his friends. He is smart, and good natured enough. He's rough when he's upset, but he has a fondness for you. I like him."
"Well then, as long as you like him!"
It worried her that her brother was speaking to her about such things. He must be worried that something had happened the night before and that her honour was at stake. They should have been more careful, Éomer and her, but there was nothing to confess. No good secrets. No good reason to panic or force a union that Éomer could not want and which would trap them both. Éomer would need to marry someone within his own country. A lady of high standing to secure the loyalty of the nobles within his lands. Ella felt her mood sour, and as if he could sense it, Amrothos pulled her into an embrace. "I just want you to be happy, little bird."
"I just want you to be happy, but you keep refusing." It was an odd thing to say to Amrothos who was always very happy, but Ella realized as she said it that it was true. Or maybe he had become less happy as he discovered there was less and less to do.
The pair grew silent as Éowyn and Faramir made their final vows. It did not rain, so the fields did not turn to mud, but there was a fuss as the couple kissed deeply and too long, and some prominent families tried to start leaving only to find that the banquet would be outdoors as well. Ella knew that having every part of the day under open skies might have been considered overdone, but she had made a promise, and she, under no circumstances would allow Éowyn to feel enclosed.
Ella's father stood out from the crowd as he came towards his daughter, he was taller than almost anyone around him. Without much fuss, he took his daughter's arm and began to walk with her. There were so many people to greet and so much to keep an eye on, but the two veered away from the crowds, their heads tilting towards each other as they talked.
"It is a good wedding, Daughter. The weather is good. Everything is moving as it should."
"I cannot take credit for the weather, Father, and it is the servants who are doing the moving. We are lucky to have such hard workers to help us. We should let them join in the feast. Make Lord Iphram fetch his own meat for once."
"Birdy..."
"There are lines?"
"Yes, and that is one."
"Yes."
"I am proud of you." He spoke softly, and she knew he was seeing her mother in her hair and her hands, in her wry little smile that none of her brothers had inherited. He was seeing his daughter as both mother and father and was pleased with what he saw. Ella feel herself flush, she smiled shyly under the weight of her father's attention and approval.
"I love you, Father."
He stooped to kiss her cheek, and from behind him she saw Éowyn and Éomer deep in conversation, both of them with their eyes locked on her. She frowned at them. Had she a bit more tact reserved for her friends, she might have pretended not to see them, she might have turned to her father and basked in his notice for a little while longer before he heard of her many indiscretions. Or noticed them himself. She did not do those things
"Father, will you excuse me?"
He nodded as he caught sight of the pair from Rohan. "The Bride has lost her Bridegroom."
"It is careless of her," agreed Lothiriel. She shot Éowyn a questioning look and the girl shook her head. That was not an answer Ella could use so she looked to Éomer who was starting to turn dark with anger. She had not seen him angry like this before. She had heard once or twice of his outbursts. Rage was not a side he showed her, even when he was most upset with her. Ella shot one last look to her father and then went to join Éowyn and Éomer, her face growing pale and drawn in her concern.
"It did not thunder even once today," She said under her breath, though when a Lord passed by them, her face grew animated and her smile appeared on cue, "So why does your face grown dark as a storm?"
Éomer did not reply, his jaw grown so tight that she could see the bone, sharp as steel.
"They called me a whore." Éowyn said lightly, "A whore of Rohan. Come to steal the good men of Gondor to my side, and...? I'm not sure what I'm to do with them after they're stolen. Love them, I suppose. Which is quite the crime."
"Who said this?" Ella felt her frustration mount and it made her throat tight and her eyes sting. She wasn't slow to cry, was the daughter of Imrahil. In anger, in sadness, in laughter, she felt the tears sting her eyes. It wasn't fair. She had been so careful, had sat everyone where there would be no arguments, she had arranged everything so that it was shocking but not too shocking. She had promised perfection, and now here came the guests to ruin it. They should have gone to a goatherd after all.
"Put no mind to it." Éowyn was the least ruffled by these insults, "We are foreigners now, but we will have friendship. We will grow it until it is strong as twine and twice as thick."
"I will have names." Éomer's voice came like a growl and it made Ella feel sick.
"You will not." Ella turned to Éowyn, "Tell them to me, when we are alone and I will make sure it does not happen again. I will not have this day marred, not like this. Find Faramir. Stab anyone who gets in your way."
"Ella..." Éowyn was starting to smile, but Éomer was not placated. He turned on Ella.
"That is not your place, Lothiriel, my sister has been insulted. I will have names."
"And I have said that you will not." Ella didn't know how she managed to make her voice so strong or how it had become the voice of a queen, but she could feel it. She liked the way it felt. She liked the way it made her shoulders roll back and her chin lift. She met Éomer's eyes with ones grown dark and sure. She could sense it was not just her in the way her two companions shifted suddenly to look at her. The way their eyes, always kind towards her, changed just slightly. "This is not your domain, King Éomer. It is King Elessar's and he will not have fighting on a day of peace and union. You may call your duel, and risk your friendships if you wish it, but it will not be today and it will not be now. Make your peace with this or leave."
Éowyn looked to the two of them, caught now between her brother and the girl who had become her sister. She knew neither of them were in the right, but neither in the wrong and it was for her honour they fought so fiercely. She noted, with some amusement that they were like a lion and his lioness caught in moment of battle.
Ella made the choice for Éowyn, perhaps knowing that if she left her long enough, it would be with her brother she sided. "I will not hear of violence, Éomer, King. I will not hear of it, or I will know where it came from and I will not forgive it." She made sure she did not break. She made sure she did not smile, and she left them there with that surety that she would take care of the problem.
There were several families she could have gone to. Dissent was not a language only heard during dark times, and she knew the secrets of every family of note from Dol Amroth to Osgiliath, and every province in between. She cursed the timing of this particular incident, noting that the banquet would be set and she might not get to eat. She was starving. At her own wedding, she decided, they would eat first and the ceremony would be short and private. Then she would eat again.
"My lady?" Mirella knew her mistress like she knew the count of stairs from the kitchens to the dining hall and from the dining halls to the gardens. She knew each expression on her charge's face because she had watched them being created. She has seen the sorrow that had etched her eyes so large and deep, and she had seen the happiness that had spread her lips wide. She had seen each moment in Ella's life and could tell you where each dimple had come from, each scar and each line. She knew the impatient shake of her head that Ella's mother had done. She knew the small line of frustration that broke her brow in two that her father had given her as his gift. She knew which curve of the face belonged to her grandmother, and which curve has come from falling down stairs. Mirella had been Ella's nurse since the girl was born and the woman had been fifteen and she knew when her mistress was in need, and when that need would surely spell trouble.
"Mella, there was news about Lord Iphraim this morning, was there not?"
"Yes, Milady. The Lord was upset, he asked for gold to repair his lands in the north. No gold was given, and he cursed the weddings of foreigners for 'siphoning away the treasury.'"
"I thought so. Lady Gisla, she looked sour this morning."
"Her daughter was set to marry Faramir. Almost five years ago there was a betrothal drawn up between Lord Denethor and the Late Lord Ferenth. It was not completed and Lord Ferenth died in the siege of Minas Tirith."
"That is quite tragic. Poor Widow Gisla. Loss can make us bitter. The Benard Twins. I heard something of them, what did I hear?"
"Their lands, lady. They were on a disputed border, on the map they are Rohirrim lands, but they had been long abandoned. Now the border is being reexamined, they stand to lose all their worth."
Mirella knew that Ella knew this information. The girl stored facts in her brain like wine in an amphora, and she did now know the girl to forget a thing. So many thoughts, Mirella opined, were likely to get mixed in one head, and so she often laid out information for the princess like a human quill.
"Lord Iphraim already owes the treasury more than he can hope to repay in this generation or the next, I would not want to be him should someone get a hold of his accounts."
"No Milady, it would be quite a blow to the family."
"And Widow Gisla's daughter has been with babe on and off for years now, and no true husband to name. How will they start to explain all the 'good- children' they keep out of charity looking so like their mistress?"
"An awkward situation, Lady."
"And the twins... Oh, the twins. It would be so easy to solve that dispute. They should not gamble on unkind words."
Mirella shook her head. Her mistress was kind to her friends, and kinder to those who had none, but she was a dangerous opponent to have and she would not wish her fury on anyone. Privately, Mirella wished her mistress was not so brazen in her knowledge. Rarely did she wield it, but when she did, the Kingdom trembled. The girl was proud and cocky and sure, and it was dangerous to be so certain of oneself.
"Mirella, you look troubled."
When Ella was upset, her face grew flushed and dark and her scars showed up bright and vulnerable. Mirella felt her heart go to the girl. Then she took her heart back and gave her her mind.
"I think it is unwise to curse a wedding with such machinations."
"Pardon me?"
"It is an dark omen, Princess. A dark omen you would call to the wedding of those you claim to love. We have seen true evil, and what you fight are the rumblings of jealous men and women who do not know how to be happy. Do not ruin them just to show that you can."
Ella, Mirella thought, was always thinking. She carried a million thoughts and did not always stop to focus on the one right in front of her path.
"There will be a day, princess, when you will need to use what you know. Not today."
Mirella did not know where Ella got her understanding from. Her mother had used to agree to what was said and then go off and do as she pleased. Her father was a stone who did not move until he had heard every argument and who made his own choice and did not falter from it. Ella was unique then. Not made of her parents in this way, but of herself alone, she listened and she changed. She nodded once, shortly.
"You're right."
"My lady?"
"I said, you're right."
"I know, Milady. I heard you. What will you do?"
"I will make a lovely speech. I will look into the eyes of every man and woman I suspect of trouble and I will let them know that Rohan is our ally and the people of Rohan our closest friends and that I am sure they agree. And they will know where I stand. There will be no doubt."
Mirella thought the speech was lovely. Ella did not have a poetic way with words but she had a lot of them and eventually her earnestness was endearing. The princess looked less angry once she had some food in her, and eventually there was dancing and laughter. Even the sour King of Rohan softened and Mirella guessed that it had been his anger that had flamed Ella's own ire. She shook her head. Her princess was headstrong and silly and she loved her dearly. She was also shy among men in a way that was nothing to do with quietness. No, her Princess didn't understand the ways of the heart or how they could be spoken or shown outside of simply being told, and she would suffer for it before she got herself a quiet, gentle, simple husband to listen to her talk.
Already Mirella could see the way her eyes tracked the King of Rohan who stubbornly refused to ask her to dance. He in turn rarely looked away from her and he grew stiff when she danced with anyone who was not her family. Ella was quietly begging him and he was quietly begging her and both of them were miserable.
Mirella had seen her mistress become a queen, even if it had been for only a moment. She was born of a line of good blood and high stations, but a true crown was not in the cards for Ella, not really. Or, it hadn't been. Now she wondered to herself if there was some things even a nursemaid might miss.