When she woke, she turned to one side. Faramir had not awoken, indeed lay dreaming still with a peaceful smile on his mouth, and brow unwrinkled from cares and sorrow. She contemplated his face for a long moment, then pressed a light kiss to his cheek before taking her leave. It was not a lovers kiss, but something different and she could not have put a name to it, except that it saddened her. It was before dawn as always, and she lightly stood, reaching for her robe. Her maid was not yet awake, and it was a personal rule with Eowyn that this time before dawn was her own. As such she left her hair down from its normal braid, and contented herself with a splash of water to her face. Then dressing herself in her customary gown of grey, she made her way from her bed-chamber. She first went to the kitchen, where only those servants in charge of the baking of that day's bread were awake, and broke a crust off a fresh baked loaf, and drinking a draught of fresh milk, a repast which satisfied her more than the most elaborate of breakfasts. Aragorn and Faramir had ridden ahead of those troops which returned to her citadel (though most had returned straight to Gondor) and she managed to seek out the most capable woman in the castle- the chief cook Sara, a forty year old widow whose lightness of touch with pastry was justly renowned, who volunteered at once to take charge of such a task.
Much lightened of heart Eowyn left the kitchens, and made her way to the sitting room of the night before. The ashes of the fire were dead, and Eowyn spent ten minutes or so, brushing out the grate, and laying in new twigs and wood for lighting later. Since this room had no windows, it was most often used at night- during the day, she and the Queen tended to use the solinarium or breakfast room to work in. But she didn't question how Arwen knew how to find her, or indeed the light touch on her arm. A genuine smile lit up her face, and she tilted her face back to meet Arwen's smiling features. Rising, she gestured towards the almost burnt out candles, in token that perhaps they should change rooms for their morning greetings. In perfect silence, they swiftly moved to the better lit breakfast room which faced East towards the sun. The view still gave Eowyn a small sharp pang deep in her heart, a sickness and melancholy that seemed still not healed, but its sting was much alleviated by Arwen's presence. Her maid Alyssa peeped in, and seeing the two silent women, brought a pot of tea and a plate of rolls and preserves, before tiptoeing silently away. Arwen spoke first. "Have you thought more upon my idea of visiting Rivendell?"
The question was utterly at odds with what Eowyn had been expecting to be asked, and she took refuge in a flurry of stutters. "I I I'm n-not sure," she replied. Then she took heart, and threw her head back proudly. "I would love to do so," she declared. Then her brow creased. "But I do not understand. You have called it variously by 'The Last Homely House' 'Imladris' and 'Rivendell?' Are they the same place?"
A smile creased Arwen's perfect lips. "They are indeed the same place. The Last Homely House is the name fiven to it by some folk- more often used by those familiar with hobbits and their works, Imladris is the elven name for it, and Rivendell its name in the common tongue."
"Can you describe it for me?" asked Eowyn softly.
"Of course," was the reply. Arwen set down her cup of tea, and rose standing behind Eowyn, her fingers beginning to braid the other woman's long blond hair slowly and surely. Her voice fell into the cadence of one reading poetry, though the words were her own and prose. "Rivendell is a place above all of peace and thought. It gives everything and takes nothing, merely requires that within its domains you heal yourself, and accept what help is given. It is a place of hidden, immense power, that of elven lords and elven rings, and yet at the same time of the smallest and most homely things, of those things which rejoice the soul, and soothe the spirit- merriment, song and poetry, simple foods, friendship and companionship. A haven for the lost, and protector of the persecuted. For years untold it was my family home, and my father Elrond the half-Elven kept peace in its halls." She fell silent, and murmurred something in her own tongue that Eowyn did not quite catch.
Eowyn gazed at her hands, suddenly, absurdly shy. "Would you like me to come?" she asked, suddenly filled with longing to see this place that Arwen spoke of in such terms. Perhaps it could help her find the peace she lacked, and heal what was still wounded.
"Very much," was the reply, and she could not mistake the sincerity in Arwen's voice.
"Then I would like nothing better than to accompany you there. For some reason my heart yearns towards what you have described, as it never has before for any place." She passed Arwen her hair fastening, and the other woman silently secured the braid, before coiling it up and securing it with an artful pin. Her fingers were cool on Eowyn's skin, and yet comforting and oddly warming.
As Eowyn opened her mouth to speak again, she was interrupted by Aragorn's cheerful voice. "You arise early." They turned, and their quiet harmony was destroyed by the intrusion of men into their room. Aragorn seemed somewhat out of place there, too big, too strong, too forceful. Arwen made no sign of discomfort, merely swept him a dainty courtesy, that Eowyn awkwardly reciprocated. Moments later, Faramir entered, and a conversation dealing with the results of the expedition began. Eowyn quietly excused herself, hurrying from the room, not aware of the worried glance Arwen threw after her.
She had felt stifled in their presence, diminished somehow, as though lessened by their achievements. She knew she still yearned in the deepest part of her, for what she could never have, what was now denied to her by the world, by propriety and morals, and by the simple suffocating love of the man she had married. Silken chains bound her to this, and yet still her spirit raged. Arwen's gentle lessons had not yet been learnt. She bit her lip until it hurt, leaving darkened imprints. She held up her head, and moved with her usual measured though swift pace, until she caught sight of a familiar face looking at her in puzzlement. Legolas, her mind supplied her with his name, though his words last time they had encountered still brought a hot flush to her cheek. What could you give that she could not? The memory of their impassioned conversation ran through her head still. How he had thrown what she possessed in her face, and how she had challenged him on the accepted conventions, defied him to tell her that he indeed possessed all that he wanted. He had told her she would be shattered on the rock that was their love. In a moment an utter stranger had broken down all her shields, had stripped her of accepted beliefs, taken away the artifice that bound conversation. The only person she had ever met able to do that was Arwen, and she wondered vaguely if perhaps it was an elvish trait.
A voice called her name, as strong and harsh as ever. Prince Legolas had always been at odds with his looks. The delicate beauty was belied by the granite hard jaw, and the cold expression, but then she supposed a man so skilled in the arts of killing really had no choice than to be stoic. She turned, and essayed a curtsey, noting his bow. "My lady Eowyn how have you been?"
"Well," she answered, and her face lightened. Last time he had seen her, she had been weeping in a chair, from despair and fruitless, helpless rage. "And you Prince Legolas?"
"It has been a most successful journey," he replied politely, and they turned to walk to the battlements.
Eowyn hesitated only a moment, then decided to tell him something. "Lady Arwen and I travel to Imladris," she said suddenly, with no warning at all. There was a subtle change in his demeanour, which perhaps none but a warrior's sharp eyes would have caught. Eowyn could not guess at the reason, but it was obvious that her announcement was garnering more emotion than she had anticipated.
When he replied however, his voice was shuttered from all emotion. "Does Lord Aragorn know of your resolution?"
Eowyn shook her head. "Nay. I tell you from courtesy, and since you are an elf, I had hoped you would be able to tell me more about Imladris, and perhaps the..." she hesitated unsure of how to frame her pronouncement, "the etiquette," she said finally, unable to find the proper word. "Have you been before?"
A brief smile twitched at Legolas's face, utterly changing it for the moment it remained. "I have been very many times," was his first remark. "You will find it very beautiful I am certain of that. It is a place of great wonder and mystery, words can do little to describe it satisfactorily. I was not born there, I was born in Mirkwood which is very different, but I have kindred there so I journeyed often to its environs. There is no etiquette as such, it is merely a place where you can do what you wish- if you want companionship it is there, but if you wish to be silent and contemplative, then there is a time and place for that as well. " He fell silent, but there was a warm look in his grey eyes that she had never seen before, a spark of human warmth even of passion.
At that moment Arwen appeared. The wind blew her blue skirts around her, and ruffled the shining black hair, bringing colour to her cheeks and a mischevious glimmer to her eyes. She had eyes only for Eowyn, but the worry which had been shadowed in them disappeared almost immediately, and she looked at Legolas, a smile leaping to her lips. "Welcome Prince Legolas," she greeted him, then embraced him shortly, before standing back. "May I speak to you Eowyn for a moment?" She curtseyed to Legolas. "We shall talk soon," she promised, before taking Eowyn's hand briefly. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said first when they were out of earshot. "I merely wished to ascertain that you were well," the meaning went unspoken- well after hearing the others talk of war. On receiving Eowyn's small nod, she smiled again. "I must return," she whispered, rolling her eyes, and tilting her head a little down, she brushed her lips along Eowyn's forehead in a comforting gesture, that seemed so natural, neither of them observed Legolas's sharp eyes. By coincidence Arwen's last words were of him. "Trust Legolas Eowyn. He has sorrow and troubles enough of his own, and much grief, and though there have been harsh words, let them be forgotten." She took her leave, as quickly as she had arrived, and Eowyn turned back to walk with Legolas.
Legolas himself was deep in thought, thoughts which Eowyn could not penetrate or guess. His eyes were once again remote. "Lady Eowyn," he asked finally, "do you get on well with the Queen?" She sensed there was some deeper meaning to his words, but was at a loss to guess what it could be, so answered them at face value.
"Very well indeed. Over the past weeks she has been a source of great companionship to me."
For some reason Legolas sighed, then he sat down on a stone bench. "Lady Eowyn. Permit me to tell you a story."
She acquiesced with a nod, and he began. "Once I knew a person, who had the very great misfortune to fall in love with somebody else. Now what he didn't realise was that though this love was shameful and wrong, and he had managed to hide it very very well, that it was reciprocated." He paused as though expecting a response, and Eowyn thoroughly bewildered replied.
"But surely it could not have been as wrong as you say? Were both parties attached already?" A painful blush suffused her face as she said those words and thought of her infatuation with Aragorn.
There was a strange look in Legolas's eyes, one of misery. "No," he said. "That was not the difficulty. The difficulty was that the young man thought it was a great deal more wrong than it really was. And so he refused to see the signs that the other bore him love as well. And when finally after a very long while mutual recognition occurred, he took fright and went away." Again he fell silent. Eowyn was extremely confused. It seemed as though he was trying to tell her something very important- his eyes were raking her face with an almost painful intensity, and at her look of incomprehension he sighed. "I am worried for you Lady Eowyn. Mortal's hearts are fragile and I fear that harm may come to you through this love. Love you do not yet know you hold."
With gentle courtesy he bowed and kissed her hand. Then with long measured steps he took his leave, leaving her on the battlements, confused and alone. The rest of the day was spent in her customary maner- doing the work which still needed to be done, whether the Lord was home or not, indeed was especially essential now. She did not see Arwen for much of it- the other woman had claimed she was indisposed by a headache, and Aragorn and Faramir remained closeted much of the day in counsel with Legolas. The evening drew near, and Eowyn excused herself from her meeting with the seneschal and bailifs, to allow Alyssa to change her dress. Out of respect for her husband's return, she declined her usual woollen work dresses, though equally her elaborate dresses were out of the question. She finally decided on a simple blue silk dress, more like a robe in the way it pooled around her, and in a colour she did not wear often, and allowed Alyssa to tie a simple silver chain around her neck. Thanks to Arwen's braiding of her hair in the morning, Eowyn's usually dead straight hair had a wave in it. Her face creased in a frown when she recalled Arwen. She had been to see the other woman earlier, but she had been sleeping at the time, and so she had contented herself with sending up herbal teas, and ordering the healer to attend her if required.
With another cup of the stuff, she made her way up the stairs to the chamber which Aragorn and Arwen shared. The Queen was out of bed, though still in her nightdress, and she looked very much better. She smiled a welcome to Eowyn. "I'm sorry," she exclaimed, "could I beg you to assist me in my dressing. I gave my maid time off, and I am in a frightful mess." Eowyn laughed.
"Of course," she replied, and set straight to work, remembering Alyssa's capable attentions. Arwen's hair was clean, and after Eowyn bundled it into a towel for her, she climbed into the freshly drawn bath, while Eowyn picked out her clothes. Arwen seemed to have such a lot, all scented, and in a range of colours- though blue as expected predominated. Eowyn allowed her hands to roam through the fabrics, relishing the deel of them on her skin, before finally picking out a dress not dissimilar to her own, but in silver instead, inset with a panel of blue on the bodice, and designed to be laced at the back. Then hesitantly in case she stumbled on the other woman's personal effects, she opened drawers until she stumbled upon the most exquistive hair ornament she had ever seen. It was a comb of some metal, and on it intricately wrought was a flower of some precious metal she had never seen before, inset with white and blue gems. It was the most delicately beautiful thing she had ever had the privilige of holding, and she could barely restrain her gasp. Indeed so caught up was she in contemplation of it, that she almost forgot what she was searching for. Reverently she placed it back into the drawer, though she almost did not have the heart to shut it away. Beside it was a plainer ornament of a silver circlet, and its matching pendant which she laid on the dresser.
Arwen entered, wrapped in her robe. "It is very beautiful is it not?" she said quietly. Eowyn busied herself sorting through the assorted pins on the table while Arwen changed before answering.
"Very." She crossed, and lifted the silver dress over Arwen's head, straightening it, before pulling the laces tight. She knew a moment of incongrousness, here she was helping to lace Queen Arwen into a dress, helping a woman the very idea of whom she had hated for so long, and who was so different from everything she had expected- better than she had ever hoped even. With gentle hands she tugged the laces closed, as Arwen drew in a breath, then with care and deliacy she placed the circlet on her head, and fastened the necklace round her throat with the most careful of touches, unsure of how precisely she had to do it. She laughed inside at the realisation that this was almost more difficult than those sword drills she had put herself through for so many years.
With a hopeful smile, Arwen turned, and an answering smile crossed Eowyn's face. Arwen rustled over to the dresser, and opened the drawer Eowyn had been looking in, taking out with gentle hands the ornament within. Walking closer to Eowyn, she motioned the smaller woman to bend, and with the regalness of her majesty she placed it in the blond hair before her, skillfully twisting it, until it resembled nothing so much as a silver flower. "It suits you very well," she said gravely.
Eowyn's hands shot up to her hair. "It is too precious," she gasped, "it's too beautiful."
Hands smoothed back a wisp of hair. "Nonsense. You are far more beautiful than it, it merely offsets your dress, and the colour of your eyes." Smooth hands tilted Eowyn's face to the light. "When your eyes catch the light just so, they are silver," Arwen said softly. They stood and began walking to where they knew their husbands would be waiting. On the way, Arwen explained her acquisition of the hairpiece. "It is made of mithril and silver. Mithril is very rare and very beautiful, and it is inset with gems. It was my mother's, my father forged it for her many many years ago, before my birth. It was a symbol of his love for her, made with his hands, and worn by her proudly. You are very like to her."
Entering the room, they noted that Aragorn, Faramir and Legolas were already seated, though they stood politely, and helped the ladies to their chairs. It was a round table, much smaller than the high table at which they had previously all dined together, with no flowers merely candles upon it. On Eowyn's right sat Arwen, on her left Faramir, while Aragorn sat next respectively to Legolas and Arwen. The talk was easy and free flowing, dealing with curiousities and quaint things that had occured, until the first course had been cleared away. Then Arwen sat up, and turned a smile on her husband. "We have not been bored," she told him, laughter hiding in her face. "Lady Eowyn slew a wolf."
The silence was sudden and immediate, and all eyes turned to Eowyn, though it was Faramir who spoke first in heavy tones. "A wolf? There are wolves near the castle? You could have been killed, what on earth possessed you?"
Eowyn replied in honeyed tones. "A wolf is small pickings, beside the band of brigands which set on us just moments later." She turned to Aragorn. "Your lady made more than a fair showing. Why she killed seven of them to my five! Though to be fair, I did pick off most of the small nest of orcs hiding in that patch of woodland." Aragorn's face was a study in surprise, and horror, and he turned to Arwen, his mouth open as though begging to be reassured.
Arwen chimed in. "Lady Eowyn is too kind to me. I did indeed kill seven, but she tackled the leader a man who was easily seven feet tall, and muscled with it. Was that before or after we rode to Gondor to rally the troops there?"
"Oh after. It was only a short trip in real terms." Only Legolas seemed to have realised that they were joking- Aragorn and Faramir were horrified, indeed stupified, that their gently bred wives had spent their days in such a way. Eowyn took pity on them. "Not really. I did indeed kill a wolf but he was the only one. The guards rode out and cut off his head after we told them. I believe it is here somewhere if you wish to see it. The skin was cured for a rug. Our days have been most sedate."
Faramir spoke first, and his voice was a little terse. "Very amusing," he said, with an attempt at a smile, that was mirrored by Aragorn's attempt. "But still Eowyn, a wolf."
A hint of ice entered her voice as was usual when she was challenged, a hint which warned Faramir not to make an issue of it- at least not before their guests. "Indeed Faramir. Need I remind you I have hunted and killed bigger prey, and ones more evil?"
Aragorn looked down at his plate, and unenthusiastically began to tackle the food on it, though the kitchens had outdone themselves. Legolas started another conversation, this time rather more conventionally. "I hear you have been teaching Lady Eowyn elvish, my lady," he addressed Arwen, and bemusedly Eowyn wondered how he had guessed- she hadn't mentioned it even to Faramir. Then she guessed his sharp eyes must have seen the lesson materials.
Arwen took a dainty bite of her venison before replying. "Indeed. She is a most apt pupil, and already excels in the weeks of learning she has had." She glanced at Eowyn, and the look was full of a meaning, which was obvious. Now was the time to broach the subject of a journey to Imladris.
Squaring her shoulders, Eowyn nodded at the other woman, and turned to Faramir. "My lord," she addressed him in her customary formal wont, and he acknowledged her start with a bow. "My lord," she repeated firmer this time, "I have planned a trip to Imladris, in the company if she should wish it of her majesty. I wished to inform you of this, so that we may plan what arrangements I shall leave for the temporary disbursement of my duties." She clasped her hands under the table to still their trembling. She did not know if she had the energy for another battle of wills with him.
His eyes lit up. "Imladris," he breathed. "Long have I wished to see that place of lore and legend, since it was mentioned in my dreams. Alas I have not been to its sacred environs. It is a good thought of yours this." As always his casual mention of scholarship cut Eowyn, making her even more aware of her fundamental untaughtness, and she replied more sharply than perhaps she meant.
"We cannot both leave the castle," she protested, hoping Arwen would speak as indeed the other woman did.
"I agree with Lady Eowyn. I wish to show her my homeland, and though I would love to show it to you, I fear your duties will not allow such an abrogation of time. As Lady Eowyn and I are merely women, our presence can be done without with more surely." There was the barest hint of sarcasm on the merely, an irony that laid clear the hypocrisy which surrounded them.
Aragorn spoke, his brow creased. "I cannot neglect my city and my country more than I have done so already in my concern for their welfare, and yet I cannot allow you to go thus unescorted, or without one I can trust by your side."
Legolas spoke then, a quiet voice from a figure around whom the light of the candles seemed to bend and waver. "I shall guide them, and escort them naturally. I wish to visit Imladris myself, and this seems the perfect opportunity."
A voice was raised in opposition. "Nay Legolas, I would that you rest in Gondor for a while before you again begin your travels."
With a smile Legolas turned to Aragorn. "You have my word on it that I shall return from Imladris to Gondor, before I start my wandering in earnest, and indeed before I revisit my settlement. Meanwhile it is clear my duty lies with the Queen and Lady Eowyn." There seemed to be palpable eagerness in his tone, and the light of warmth that Eowyn had noted in his eyes was rekindled at the thought of Imladris, without him even noticing the change.
Faramir sighed. "It seems I have no choice but to essay my consent to this undertaking." There were sharp words on the tip of Eowyn's tongue about the word 'allow,' but by force of will she held them back, bowing her head before the male need for the semblance of control at least. Looking around she realised that her effort had not gone unnoticed. Arwen's warm hand sought hers under the table, and gave it a short squeeze.
"To Imladris," the other woman whispered, and they raised their glasses in a silent toast.
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Chapter end notes: Ah ha, finally updated. Got a sudden burst of inspiration so expect more soon. Reviews as always, are very very welcome, and they do give me that extra impetus to continue.
