Chapter 6
The endless fields of the Horselords swept across the landscape once they entered the domain of Rohan, reminiscent of great golden waves rising and falling as their path cut through the countryside. Lothíriel was enamored of the landscape; so unlike the lands of her home. The company crossed the Mering Stream with ease given the number of assisting hands and rode the next several days into the lands of the Rohirrim. They stopped at the ancient seat of the Rohirric kings, Aldburg, for one night but the Princess was disappointed to hear that Éomer and two of his men had ridden ahead to Edoras. Her first welcome to Rohan was warm but brief, the company arriving in the evening for supper and departing before the sun rose.
The procession continued a day behind the King at their ponderous pace, stopping only one more night before they reached Edoras. Amrothos and Lothíriel rode with their father, at his request, near the front to enter Edoras, with Evandor installed with the rest of the Swan Knights. There was a solemness about this final leg of the passage, the merrymaking that had become commonplace on the road replaced with quiet words and contemplation. The end of this journey marked both the internment of the King and the parting of companies, something no one gave words to as they rode north. It was beside Faramir that Lothíriel found herself as they rounded the last hour of their trek.
"Are you nervous?"
"Nervous?" her cousin's bemused glance was cast her direction as he held the reins in one hand, leisurely resting on the pommel of his saddle.
"To see Éowyn? It has been several months since you were last together."
"No, not nervous," he replied thoughtfully. "I am eager to see her – and her home. I wish to be a comfort for her as her uncle is mourned."
"I imagine having you present will be a relief. Did you wish for her when your father was interred?"
"Verily, I was grateful to do it alone," he confessed softly. "Though Éowyn would have been welcomed, it was somehow comforting to lay him to rest on my own. I can only hope he was greeted by my mother and brother."
"I trust he was."
"Are you nervous, little swan?" now it was her turn to look at him with furrowed brows. He smiled knowingly, which annoyed her. "Éomer will be crowned in the days to come – should that not be meaningful?"
"To him, I'm sure," she replied with a frown. "Why would I be nervous?"
"Perhaps I am mistaken in my assumption that you have become partial to one another." The Prince of Ithilien shrugged with a mild grin, which hinted at something unspoken.
"Oh," Lothíriel felt her chest warm beneath her clothes, though it mercifully hadn't climbed up her neck to her cheeks. "It is nothing."
"Have words been spoken between you?" Grey eyes met her cousin's with surprise at his bluntness.
"No. No words. We aren't… there isn't anything beyond companionship," she answered. Faramir's visage shifted slightly, concern playing on his features as he looked at her.
"I see. Forgive me, Lothíriel. I did not mean to jest or make you uncomfortable. I just thought… well, Éowyn and I suspected…"
"Suspected what?"
"The way he looks at you. I suppose I – we… being that he'll be crowned perhaps there will be decisions made."
"I've not been made aware of any decisions," she answered with a polite tone. "If Éomer – if the King has made arrangements to announce anything after his coronation, then I will be as surprised as you. Well, perhaps not. Amrothos seems to think you'll have your own announcement to celebrate."
"Does he?" her cousin's smile was warm, and she noted how his cheeks reddened slightly. She was relieved to switch topics, especially to one that elicited such happiness from Faramir.
"Then it is true? You and Éowyn?"
"It is. Aragorn, Éomer, Éowyn and I spoke at length and determined it would be an appropriate time to declare our troth after the coronation."
"I am happy for you, cousin."
"Thank you, Lothíriel. I have not known love like this. Like her."
"You are most deserving of one another."
They fell into a comfortable silence as the road curved around a wide knoll. As much as she wished to inquire further it felt inapposite to push the topic of Éomer. There was validation in Faramir's words that she hadn't imagined Éomer's quiet fondness for her and hope settled in her breast that her growing affection toward the King was shared. And she was elated to know for certain that her cousin and Éowyn were to be wed.
"Lothíriel."
Her attention turned to Faramir as he motioned ahead of them with a nod. Her gaze fell upon a great hill revealed at the end of the road's curve. Homes and thatched structures dotted the rise of the prominence, its apex affixed with a building glittering gold in the waning light. It was breathtaking in a way she had not expected, despite seeing paintings of Edoras in her books.
The setting sun bathed the hill in a candle-like glow, the mighty Meduseld its shining crown. The long procession ascended the incline as folk lined the road, bowing and staring at them with a mixture of awe and reverence. Lothíriel found her place beside her brother, Imrahil ahead of them as they made their formal march to peak. They were still a fair distance from the front of the procession, with the King and Queen, the Fellowship, Faramir, the funeral bier and the Elven host ahead of them.
This gave Lothíriel time to take in the town and its people as she passed. She'd never seen so many folk with golden blonde hair, their faces proud and bearings stoic. Horses adorned the architecture of the walled city, earthy and robust in construction. There was no marble or white stone that she could see, instead the buildings of Edoras adopted the colors of the valley. As they rode to the top of the hill the buildings became fewer and gave way to wide steps of Meduseld.
The King's court was assembled, though Lothíriel could only make out the shining helms of the Rohirrim from her position. Meduseld stretched up behind them, a shining wall against the mountains. She searched the faces she could decern for her friends but figured they had descended the stairs to greet the travelers. A signal was given to dismount and stable lads materialized from the crowd to take the tired beasts. The terrace was crowded with their great host and they were filing four or five up the steps. She took Imrahil's proffered arm when it was their turn, ascending to the Golden Hall's entry as Amrothos walked beside her.
The doors were open and, to her happiness, Lothíriel saw Éowyn was at the entrance greeting the guests. She looked radiant, long hair loose and her face rosy. Bright eyes caught Lothíriel's and her smile widened as she finished welcoming the Elves ahead of the trio. When Imrahil approached, Éowyn bowed low, followed by the Prince and his children.
"Lord Imrahil," she greeted. "Lord Amrothos, Lady Lothíriel. Welcome to Meduseld."
"Lady Éowyn," the Prince replied warmly, kissing the back of her hand. "What a delight to behold you and the Golden Hall."
"Please come in. You will be shown to your quarters once you enter. Supper is nearly ready. If you would like to rest in your chambers we can reconvene for the feast. I will find you shortly," Éowyn looked at the Princess when she added the last line and Lothíriel canted her head appreciatively.
The next hour was spent finding their lodgings and preparing for the welcome feast. Meduseld was grand but their host was great, so the Prince and his children shared a small apartment in an building adjoining the Hall to the east. It was warmly furnished and Lothíriel noted with particular joy that a tub sat waiting in the water closet. Their luggage arrived and Lothíriel changed from the riding clothes into a simple beige gown, unwilling to dirty the finer dresses with the sweat and dirt from the road.
"You brought other garments, yes?" Amrothos inquired with a raised brow as she sat tying the laces on her ankle boots. She looked up at him with a frown.
"What does it matter to you?"
"Just wondering. You aren't a healer here, Loth. You can't be running around in your servant shifts."
"I know," she snapped, sitting up straight. Amrothos, for his part, did look nice, having changed from his riding clothes to a fine blue tunic, over which he was buttoning a thin jerkin. His dark hair had been brushed; the front portion secured in the back in the style of the Rohirrim. His expression softened as she stood up and began trying to tie the laces at her wrists.
"You look lovely no matter your clothes," he remarked and she stopped her task to look at him, unsure if he was preparing to tease her. "I just want you to look like the Prince of Dol Amroth's daughter, not the servant supplying our wine."
"Thank you," she answered, previous ire dissipating. "I'll wear the finer dresses soon. I just don't want to sully them, smelling of horses and sweat as I do tonight."
"Methinks that would be desirable here in Rohan. You'd be fighting them off with a pole."
They shared a grin as she began unbinding and removing the plait from her hair. A servant appeared from across the room to help her, sitting the Princess back in the chair and assisting her in brushing the dark curls. Amrothos excused himself, promising to rejoin her when it was time to attend the feast. Lothíriel sat quietly as the blonde girl, perhaps in her fifteenth year, stood behind carefully tending to her hair. Her hands worked masterfully through the unruly curls, smoothing the mane Lothíriel kept trimmed at mid-back. It wasn't as long as many of the women in the Gondorian court but she reasoned it was easier to tie up and plait when she was in the Healing ward.
"Forgive me, my Lady," the girl murmured as she caught a tangle gently. Her words were more heavily accented than Éowyn or Éomer's, tone hesitant.
"It's alright," Lothíriel assured her. "I am certain it's a rat's nest from all these days on the road."
"Would my Lady prefer I wash it?"
"Nay. That will take an age. Do what you can and pin it back up. Once I have a good bath we can work through the tangles and get it to a presentable state."
"Yes, my Lady."
"What is your name?" Lothíriel asked at length. The girl paused before answering.
"Elayn, my Lady."
"Thank you, Elayn. It must've been an enormous undertaking to prepare for so many guests."
"Yes, my Lady. We've been working for weeks."
"Will you be attending us during our stay?"
"Yes, my Lady. Lady Éowyn selected myself and Roderic to serve the Lords of Dol Amloth."
Lothíriel smiled to herself, unsure if Elayn mispronounced the word due to her accent or unfamiliarity. Not wishing to embarrass the girl she said nothing, letting Elayn create twin plaits and looping them in a loose bun at the nape of her neck.
Once completed the pair finished tying the laces on the dress's sleeves and Elayn assisted her in donning a long surcoat of stone blue, its wide sleeves displaying the beige of the fitted dress from the elbows down. It was still considerably simple considering the company she kept, but it elevated the gown enough that even Amrothos couldn't complain. The surcoat laced the length of her torso and defined the tall figure of the Princess, further fitted by the thin belt secured at her waist. The color reminded Lothíriel of the ocean under overcast skies, its hue definitively grey with undertones of blue. Finally, she set the thin circlet upon her forehead, Elayn assisting in securing it to her hair in the back. It was an unadorned band of silver fashioned as a vine of ivy, resting just below her hairline.
Imrahil and Amrothos appeared at the door then, and Lothíriel bid Elayne goodbye to attend the welcome feast in Meduseld.
