The lady who Éowyn sent to get Marian ready arrived much sooner than anticipated. As she entered the room, Marian's gaze zeroed in on the pale blue dress in her arms. It was simple, but beautiful, with bell sleeves that gathered just above the elbow and gold embroidery along the neckline.
Marian felt a little awkward about letting a stranger dress her, but when it came down to it, there were too many layers and ties for her to keep track of on her own.
"What's your name?" Marian asked as the woman held out a sort of slip for her to step into.
"Háryth," she replied softly, helping Marian slip her arms through.
"Mine's Marian."
There was a brief silence as Háryth added more pieces to the ensemble. Then suddenly, she giggled.
"Is it true that Lord Éomer carried you all the way up to Meduseld?" she asked in a rush, as if she had been wanting to ask since setting foot in the room.
"Oh!" Marian said, taken aback. "I suppose, although I can hardly pretend to remember. But someone must've done it."
Háryth's cheeks tinged pink. "It is what people are saying- that Lord Éomer rode through the gates holding a woman upon his horse. And that he carried you up the steps to the Golden Hall."
Noticing the way Háryth was blushing, Marian slowly smiled.
"Yes- it's true," she sighed, closing her eyes. "He took me in his arms, so strong and sure, and as I lay nearly dead, he leaned close and whispered…"
She opened her eyes and looked at Háryth, who stood transfixed, clutching the dress to her chest and staring openmouthed. Marian burst out laughing.
"Oh- do not tease!" Háryth exclaimed, looking flustered and quickly holding out the blue dress.
Marian grinned, stepping into the garment. "I'm sorry, it's just… you seem quite taken with the idea of Lord Éomer coming to the rescue."
Stepping around to do up the laces, Háryth smiled shyly. "Well, he is handsome," she admitted.
And then with another tug of the laces, she added, "Do you not think?"
Marian twisted her head around to look at the woman, who feigned an innocent expression.
"How devious!" she laughed as Háryth finished tying the laces, fighting back more giggles.
"And now for your hair," Háryth said, pretending as if she hadn't said anything.
Marian, still chuckling, sat down in a nearby chair and let Háryth begin her work.
"Oh, Háryth," she gasped, catching her reflection in the window's glass. "It's beautiful."
Marian touched her hair in wonder. Háryth had done something splendid; it was soft, shiny, and twisted up into an elegant arrangement. Her days in the sun had darkened her skin even more, and it, along with her hair and eyes, contrasted wonderfully with the light color of the dress.
"You are ready now," Háryth said, eyes shining, and then spoke something in a language Marian didn't understand.
She turned to Háryth with a questioning look.
"My lovely friend," she translated, and Marian discovered she no longer felt so alone.
Nearly tiptoeing down the hall, disgruntled that Háryth had refused to accompany her (she insisted it wasn't her place), Marian tried desperately to shake her nerves.
You're going to see Éowyn, she reminded herself. The king will just happen to be there. And the three travelers- man, elf, and dwarf. It was no big deal.
Oh, and the wizard, she remembered. She was going to meet an actual wizard- whatever that meant. Probably a pointy hat.
Marian was wrenched from her thoughts as she realized she was standing before the entrance to the main hall.
Just be cool, she told herself, and started into the room.
She wondered abruptly if she ought to bow- or curtsy- to the king, almost panicking at the idea of doing it wrong and embarrassing herself, when she emerged past the pillars and was cast into the light.
The king sat on a great chair, intricately carved and polished to a gleam. Marian's mind went blank and she dipped into some semblance of a curtsy, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding when the king nodded in acknowledgement.
Next to him, though on a much lower stool, sat an old man clothed in all white, with white hair and a snowy beard to match. Marian guessed that was the wizard, or at least he looked very wizardly.
Her eyes travelled past the head of the room and she spotted Éowyn, who smiled despite looking a little strained.
"Ah, Marian!" she said, and the three travellers who were gathered around one of the wooden tables looked up.
"Can it be-?" came the gasp of a gruff voice, and Marian turned her head, taking in the sight of a very short man with dark red hair- the dwarf, she thought- and then…
A pair of astonished eyes, light blue, met her gaze. Marian caught her breath, and when she saw the elf standing there, looking equally amazed, she knew.
"Oh my- it's... it's-"
"Mari!" the elf exclaimed, and the shocked spell that had descended on them was broken.
She gathered her skirts and nearly ran across the room, forgetting all about the king.
"It is you," the man breathed, rising from his seat as she skidded to a halt in front of them, breathless and wide-eyed. "But how-?"
"I'm not dead!" she clarified needlessly. "Thanks for taking that knife out, although-"
"I threw it in the river," the dwarf said proudly. "And then-"
The elf cut in. "Mari, we would not have sent you down the Falls of Rauros if-"
"I wondered why you did that, but I woke up just in time; gosh, I must have looked dead-"
The blue-eyed man stepped forward, placing a hand on Marian's shoulder.
"You were, Mari. You were dead. Nobody could have survived a wound such as that. I knew your fate from the moment I saw you."
And they all fell silent as she gazed up at him, dumbfounded.
"I- I can't have been," she whispered. "How is that possible?"
The man shook his head. "I do not know."
Marian stepped back, head spinning, as every eye in the room turned to her.