The bells of Dale rang when the entourage of Rohan showed upon the southern hill, coming from the Long Lake. A very proud Bard, accompanied by a happy Bain and an overanxious Tilda awaited for them at the gates of the town. As soon as they got in each other's sight, the sisters ran to embrace, tears of joy spreading over her faces.
"I missed you so much!"
They said in unison.
Sigrid stepped back to take a proper look at her younger sister.
"By Ilúvatar, you've grown, sister!" Tilda kind of looked down at herself, thinking of how Sigrid had seen her last time. It was when her older sister was married to Dunwine, Third Marshal of Rohan, five years previously, and she was only sixteen years old. Sigrid noticed the younger one's embarrassment and changed the subject slightly. "You've grown so beautiful!"
Blushing a little, Tilda beheld her sister, her changed body after pregnancy and childbirth, arms built strong with the charge of baby-sitting two infants before her own was born, fine clothes of a make that didn't reach those northward lands yet, and a smile that was of real happiness.
"So did you, sister!"
The men greeted each other in a more sober way, but Bard cradled his first grandson in his arms as a precious treasure, a rare smile gracing his tired face. Bain was not married yet, and probably would not be in several years to come, but if everything else failed, the line of Girion was secured in that little chubby baby.
"Hope you had a safe journey?"
Bard asked his son-in-law, with a tap on his shoulder. The blond rider of Rohan answered with a broad smile.
"Not a trouble the whole way. Of course we always set watch, but orcs don't care about watchers if they have a mind to slaughter."
The group of Rohirrim had dismounted and was settling their horses before anything else. It was not an army, but not a tiny group, either, and Bard wondered that no small band of orc would dare them in the open. The baby in his arms cooed.
"So, little fellow, how do you like your grandpa here?" The baby crossed his eyes, trying and failing to focus. "Ready to have some bow lessons?"
Dunwine smirked with pride.
"As soon as Sigwine is able to hold himself upon a horse, milord Bard!"
Bard smiled.
"Not too long to wait, if he takes after his mother. Now, inside Dale everybody, the kitchens will be busy to prepare you a meal fit for travellers in a few hours. In the meanwhile, the cellars will grant you some refreshment, I'm sure."
"Had a good harvest?"
"The best in years!"