Brotherhood Chapter Twenty Two
16 Sep 2009 07:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
curiouswombatI nearly put Chapter twenty three - that's already 1,500 words long and was the file I saw most recently!
But this chapter twenty two - in which Éowyn speaks of stolen children and Rumil considers the Gondorian Court en masse...
So - Previous chapters are Here.
Chapter Twenty-two.
Rating 15
5,300 words.
Beta'd, as usual, by S2C.
Chapter Twenty-two
“Tell me truly, Tindómë, are you a stolen child?”
Tindómë looked blankly at Éowyn for a few seconds.
“Am I a what?”
“A stolen child.”
Vague memories of European folk tales in Giles’ books stirred in Tindómë’s mind, but she must have continued to look blankly at Éowyn, as the Princess of Ithilien began to explain.
“When I was a child I was told that the terrible witch of Dwimordene, and her grey shadow spirits, would snatch children left unguarded outdoors and fly with them back to the deep, dark, woods.
“I know now that the Lady Galadriel is not a wicked witch, and that the shadow spirits must be the elven warriors in their grey cloaks but,” she continued, “we were told that they took babies and small children because she could not have children of her own, and that the children would become shadow spirits.”
Tindómë could feel her jaw dropping, and her eyes widening. ‘Elven dignity, no facial expression, look blank!’ she urged herself, waiting for Éowyn to continue.
“Well,” Éowyn did, indeed, plough on, “I know, from things that Legolas has said, that there have been no elflings born outside Mirkwood for a long time. So that would explain the idea that the witch couldn’t have children… and if Merry and Pippin, the hobbits, grew taller by drinking the water meant for ents, then you might have grown taller from drinking the water meant for elves!”
‘That is so wrong, on so many levels!’ Tindómë thought, stunned that someone as, apparently, intelligent as Éowyn could still believe such a folk tale.
“No! No – absolutely not!” she answered. “There is just no way elves would do anything like that! How could you really believe something like that?”
Éowyn still looked as if she needed convincing. “But how, then, did you come to be amongst the elves? If no elflings have been born for many years how did Legolas attend your coming of age, only months ago, unless you were not born as an elfling?
“Also you do not look like an elf – you don’t have the pointed ears, or the pale skin that almost glows – and the picture Rumil drew of you asleep showed your eyes closed – but I have seen Legolas asleep and he stares as if at nothing… If you are not a stolen child, then how did you come to be… as you are?”
‘Bummer!’ thought Tindómë, ‘Arwen can’t have had time to talk to her yet. How can I shoot her the ‘childhood too painful to talk about’ line myself?’
“I… it is difficult to explain. It is painful for me to talk about…”
Inside Tindómë’s mind was racing. You need to look as if it is painful to talk about – she isn’t going to buy the ‘this hurts but I am a properly stoic elf and will show no emotion’ shit. Think of something to make yourself cry…
“I… I wasn’t actually born in Lorien… I… I was… my mother was…”
She thought of Joyce, Mom, lying in the morgue, and of Buffy shattered at the bottom of Glory’s tower, but still couldn’t get past Éowyn thinking that she had been stolen as a child.
Then she thought of what Álith had told her about the terrible deaths of her parents, her brothers, and Gifu’s small son. Suddenly she was back in her own nightmares from the Hornburg, Gifu with arrows sticking out of her, an orc with Rumil’s head on a glaive; she could almost smell burning flesh…
…………………………………………………..
“Something is wrong with Tindómë!” Rumil looked up suddenly from the paper he was working on. “It is not pain, or danger, but she is upset. She is very near.”
“She was to meet Éowyn out in the hallway – she must still be there, it is just through those doors.” Elladan waved at the far end of the room, and continued, “We will go. Éowyn would not understand how you would know something is wrong. We can speak silently with Tindómë…”
Rumil nodded briefly as the twins got to their feet and out through the door in seconds; apparently, to anyone on the other side, strolling casually and deep in conversation.
Tindómë stood with tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes slightly unfocussed; Éowyn was at her side, looking… worried? Guilty?
“What is wrong?” Elladan asked.
“I didn’t mean to upset her,” Éowyn answered. “I only asked how she came to be amongst the elves of Lorien.”
“You see to the little one, I will see to Éowyn,” Elladan’s ‘voice’ said inside Elrohir’s mind.
Elrohir put his fingers gently to one of Tindómë’s cheeks, turning her to look at him. He spoke silently to her. “What is wrong, little warrior? Rumil felt that you were upset…”
Her eyes cleared as she looked into his. She was obviously not totally lost in memory as an elf sometimes was.
“’S all right,” her mental voice was still slightly unsure. “Éowyn asked me about where I came from. Arwen was going to give her the ‘don’t ask, it upsets her’ talk but I guess she hasn’t had time. I tried to look as if thinking about the time before I got to Lorien was really upsetting. I tried to think of things to make me cry… I just did it too well.
“I thought of what Álith told me of her family – and suddenly it was a bit like being back in my nightmare. It worked though… I guess I look pretty upset!”
Elrohir brushed the fingers across her cheek in a gesture of reassurance as he ‘told’ Elladan briefly what Tindómë had said.
Someone was approaching. Within seconds the twins had manoeuvred both the young women into the room where the other ellyn were.
Rumil looked up as they entered the door and came quickly to Tindómë’s side – Éowyn would surely never guess that it was Rumil who had first noticed that his ‘not-quite-betrothed’ was upset.
He took her fingers in his and touched foreheads with her. Elrohir took the opportunity to briefly explain, silently, to Rumil what had happened.
Elladan was speaking to Éowyn.
“Before she was restored to the elves her life was dark and terrible with many threats and evils – you yourself know of the death of parents, the fears you had when Grima Wormtongue had power… You can imagine…
“We have been her healers; both as she recovered from horrific physical injuries and the hurts to her fëa, her spirit. It is best for her not to be reminded of those early years, not to speak of them. Her time in Lorien has been like a healing balm to her fëa, but it is still like an injury that has formed a scab – it is well not to pick at it.”
“Well put, El,” Elrohir said silently to his brother.
“I… I am very sorry, Tindómë,” Éowyn sounded quite chastened.
Fingers still entwined with Rumil’s, Tindómë smiled and answered.
“It’s fine, really. I just – you caught me off balance. Come on – let’s go get some retail therapy – uh, go buy gifts for Elfwine and listen to the gossip.”
As she turned towards Éowyn, Tindómë looked at Elrohir; her eyes widening briefly, her head slightly to one side.
“I am listening,” he ‘told’ her.
“El, I have so got to tell you all the weird things that Éowyn believes about the elves! ‘Cos if she can believe such weird things, then goodness knows what some of the ordinary people might believe! But it will wait until I get back.”
She blew her nose and handed Rumil back his handkerchief. He gently tucked a loose strand of hair, from behind an ear, back into the knot at Tindómë’s neck, and the look that passed between them spoke of some private amusement.
Tindómë took Éowyn by the elbow, and steered her out of the room, discussing just what would be a good gift for an infant prince of Rohan.
“Thank you,” Rumil said to the twins, before returning to the table, his pencils, and paints.
………………………………………………………………
The shopping expedition was fun – even if Éowyn still kept giving her worried glances when she thought Tindómë wouldn’t notice.
It occurred to Tindómë that all the things she guessed you would buy for a baby back in Sunnydale were either not suitable or not available. Stretchy sleep suits and battery powered crib mobiles were nowhere to be seen…
“Anything made of wood I’ll leave to the ellyn,” she told Éowyn. “If I bought anything they’d just tell me they could have carved it better themselves.”
“Themselves?” Éowyn asked.
“Well, yes, although the twins don’t play with bits of wood and knives as much as the others – I think it’s their Noldor heritage – they would probably prefer to make something of metal. But all elves make things of one sort or another – everyone needs a hobby! And being able to make what you might need is pretty useful.”
She paused before adding, “And it would probably surprise Sam Gamgee to know that the ellyn are all pretty good cooks too – they just don’t stop to cook when speed is more important.”
“I… it is difficult to imagine warriors cooking well…” Éowyn began, and then suddenly said “I didn’t know that you knew Sam Gamgee.”
‘Bummer!’ Tindómë thought.
“They visited Lorien…” she said out loud, quickly followed by “Oh look! A stuffed toy oliphaunt! Don’t you just think a little boy would love that?”
Eventually they had a couple of suitable gifts for Elfwine. Also some fabric to make a new dress for Éowyn, a delicate shawl for Tindómë to wear if she felt cold (to replace the scarf she had given Fritha back at Helm’s Deep) and, on the stall of a man from Dol Amroth, tiny seed pearls. Tindómë thought they would look beautiful as a necklace, or earrings, or just threaded into hair. She might give some to Rumil, but not to Legolas – he so did not need to be reminded of The Sea.
They had also engaged a lot of people in conversation – buying gifts for a new baby made it very easy to bring up the subject of the new princess. It was clear that most people thought that their King was good; their King was handsome; the Queen was beautiful; the Queen was kind; the Queen was certainly young enough to have many more babies, and would doubtless have an heir soon. But, also, from one old lady, perhaps not so oddly bearing in mind what Éowyn had said to Tindómë earlier; the Queen was surely not really an elf as elves didn’t have babies.
So – generally good news and one odd bit of misunderstanding; which, it occurred to Tindómë, might be seen as a reason for Elrond to have fathered Aragorn personally with a human woman – she’d better mention that to the ellyn as well.
………………………………………………………………………………
“Éowyn believes what?” Legolas sounded as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.
“She may not totally believe, so much as she doesn’t totally disbelieve,” Tindómë said, thinking about it.
“She sees me clearly looking like a young woman but her picture of ‘peredhel’ is Arwen – ivory skin, pointed ears – as elven looking as Lady Galadriel. Then she remembers back to the stories she was told as a child, and I fit that profile so much better; so she thinks, perhaps, they were true after all.”
“But she has known me for over three years, and yet she can still believe that I would steal her child?” Legolas sounded quite upset.
“I think, if you put it exactly like that to her, she would realise how silly it really sounds,” Tindómë told her gwador.
“Perhaps it is only the Galadhrim that are accused of stealing mortal children?” Orophin sounded more… amused? “When the Horse-lords arrived in the lands outside the Golden Woods we made sure that they would never venture too near to our territory,” he said. “Not that we ever took their children – they were not our enemies and, even had they been, no-one would steal children; that would be barbaric.”
Suddenly, Tindómë was brought face to face again with just how old these, apparently young, ellyn were. Orophin was not using ‘we’ to mean his people in a bygone age – he meant that he, personally, had been amongst the grey-cloaked figures who had warned off Éorl’s men if they rode too close to Lothlórien. Éorl who had, now, almost passed into legend amongst the Rohirrim.
“Between our grandparents and your father, Legolas,” Elladan said, “we have made sure that men keep well away from us. Perhaps we should not be so surprised that they then use us as figures to keep their children in hand!”
“Not your father, then?” Tindómë asked, genuinely curious.
“No – we are so well hidden in Imladris that men rarely strayed into our valley – and, if they do, then we engage them in such deep and meaningful conversation that they scurry away determined to avoid any such encounters again,” Elrohir answered her, with the hint of a smile.
“Anyway,” Tindómë said, “if an intelligent noblewoman like Éowyn can so easily begin to wonder whether childhood tales are true, how easy would it be to convince Gondorian nobles that other ‘tales’ about elves are true? Is the unrest just spontaneous, minor, people being pissy, or is someone stirring things up? Whaddya think, guys?”
“I think we may be in a position to better decide after we learn more of Lord Lomion,” Elladan answered, adding “I wonder if Men realise what an unfortunate name that is?”
…………………………………………………………………….
The large hall was already full of many people, all wearing heavy brocade dresses or tunics, seated at long tables. The evening sunlight, streaming through the high windows, touched the precious gems adorning all the women and threw fleeting rainbows onto the white walls.
Faramir led the procession in through the doors and up to the table set on a raised dais at the far end. Behind him came Aragorn, his formal robe embroidered with the white tree and stars, a circlet on his head. Éowyn walked with the king, hand on his arm, in a white gown with gold embroidery, her hair held back from her face but flowing down around her shoulders and topped with a golden circlet; the style proclaimed her still more a princess of Rohan than Gondor.
Next came Legolas, equally formally attired, every inch an Elven Prince and Lord of Ithilien. Tindómë walked with him; her hair loose, apart from two thin twists at the side, where Rumil had helped to work in some of the precious stones, gifted by Gimli when they had visited the Glittering caves, threaded on mithril wire so fine it was barely thicker than the strands of hair.
The effect, Rumil thought, coupled with the tiny gems embroidered on the bodice and hem of her dress, made her, literally, shine as brightly as any of the women of the court. In his eyes, in her elven style dress made with softer lines and finer fabric, she outshone them in every possible way. No-one would ever think her anything other than an elleth – not even Éowyn!
Rumil walked with his brother, both equally formally attired. Haldir, he thought, would have been proud of their bearing and the solemnity with which they represented Lorien. Behind them came the Elrondionath, and no-one looking at the twins could doubt that they, too, were elven lords.
At the end of the procession came the woman that the twins, and Tindómë, called ‘Arwen’s Dragon’, in a dark red dress with rubies around her neck and set into her hair. Hair that was piled up on her head until the top of it was almost level with the shoulder blades of Elladan walking in front of her. Red was a good colour for a dragon but, really, she was so short that she was surely more of a guard dog.
The man beside her must be her husband. Rumil had spent enough time now with men to recognise that he was no longer young. His face bore lines and his hair was almost as pale as Rumil’s own, but showed signs that it had once been dark. When you looked into his eyes he seemed to have an honest fëa.
As they took their places at the table, one of each pair going to the right, one to the left, Rumil found himself between Legolas and Elrohir. Valar be praised that he would not have to try to converse in the Common Tongue, nor concentrate to understand the oddly accented Sindarin spoken by the Gondorian nobility. He wondered if Éowyn, as hostess, had planned it that way? Probably yes – apart from her strange ideas about elves stealing mortal children she seemed a very competent woman.
Aragorn, at the centre of the top table, gestured for all to sit but he remained standing. He welcomed all his court, but especially his visiting family and friends, nodding to his left and right.
Anyone who thought that King Elessar was too familiar with elves was certainly not going to change their mind, and no-one would be in any doubt that these elves, at least, were honoured guests.
Next he thanked Princess Éowyn for taking the place of the Queen as hostess and announced that this was especially suitable as he had decided to dine formally, even though the Queen had not yet rejoined the court, to celebrate the birth of a son to his friend, and brother of Princess Éowyn, Éomer King of Rohan.
He paused briefly before adding “The son and heir of Éomer King is to be named Elfwine – which in the language of the Riddermark means ‘elf-friend’.”
The long pause before he sat, to let this announcement be absorbed by the court was, Rumil thought, masterful. That all the elves present, blank faced and apparently almost unaware of their surroundings, were watching the other diners for signs of reaction to the announcement was probably undetected.
This was the first time Rumil, or for that matter Orophin or Tindómë, had encountered the formal dining of the Gondorian court. There were at least seventy people sitting at the lower tables, whilst guards and… were they called footmen? Pages? Attendants, of some sort, stood around the walls. They seemed to be there simply as decoration – or perhaps in case one of the nobles need something. They were not involved in serving the food – a lower level of servant seemed to exist for that purpose.
Against the wall behind the high table stood more guards and attendants; Galanthir stood amongst them, directly behind Legolas – an even less noticed observer than the other ellyn. It was amusing, Rumil thought, that he and Galanthir, in reality, were certainly equals – yet here they were playing two different roles to fit the expectations of the mortals.
Even before the first course arrived he was beginning to hope the meal over quickly; he wanted fresh air. Turning to Legolas on his left he said, quietly, “They smell!”
It was not the smell of mortals’ fear that he had encountered during and after the battles fought beside men. Nor was it the smell of hay, smoke and horses that was present in the halls of the Rohirrim. It was a strong mixture of dried sweat, mustiness, herbs and the essence of many different flowers mixed with spirits – flowers that would never all bloom in the same place at the same time.
“I know,” Legolas answered. “It gets worse as they light the candles – they, too, are scented. It is more the clothing than the people – most of the court bathes… occasionally. The heavy fabrics make them sweat; which they do much more than us. But, I learnt from Éowyn, the embroidered fabrics are difficult to wash and so they wear them and then hang them back in their closets with bags of herbs.
“Some from outside the city, she says, hang them in their privy closet as they think the smell there wards off moths that would lay eggs in the clothes! We are fortunate, indeed, that most of those here tonight live in the citadel, or the higher parts of the city, where the privies are flushed through with water!”
“Sweet Elbereth,” Rumil said, “for that small mercy I am most grateful! But why the smell of so many blossoms soaked in spirits?”
“To cover the smell of the stale sweat…”
“But we, who do not sweat so much, wear fabrics that are less stifling and easier cleansed… why do the men not do that?”
“My friend,” answered Legolas, “I have not had enough dealings with them yet to find an answer – maybe in half a yen or so…”
The food was good, but the heavy smell took away the appetite, and not only Rumil, but all the ellyn, merely picked at the food on their plates. He caught Tindómë’s eyes and she immediately wrinkled her nose – she was certainly not immune to the smell of the people either. This gave Rumil some little comfort as he tried to breathe as little as possible.
As the last plates were cleared and the wine glasses filled again (at least the wine was good – although it was to be hoped Tindómë did not drink too much of it…) Aragorn stood and proposed a formal toast to the new prince of Rohan, Prince Elfwine.
Again, as everyone stood and repeated the toast, the elves scanned the faces for out of place emotions or expressions. Men were so unguarded in their emotions, Rumil thought, as he noted two in particular who had curled their lips at the new babe’s name, and not repeated it. No elf would have shown such obvious distaste.
……………………………
Lady Geoghel was not really so bad, Tindómë thought as they prepared to go in for dinner, but she was probably going to be very warm in that heavy dress. Thank the Valar for fine, flowing, elven muslins. There must be pounds of hairpins holding her ladyship’s hair up so intricately as well, especially to take the weight of that heavy tiara.
Éowyn looked a little more comfortable; she seemed to have developed a style of her own, somewhere between Rohan and Gondor – a ‘new Ithilien’ look perhaps. She had spoken briefly to Tindómë, before Lord and Lady Geoghel joined the party, exclaiming that, now, it was difficult to think of Tindómë as anything other than an elleth.
‘Good!’ Tindómë thought.
The members of the court had obviously gotten their best clothes out for this formal dinner. Apart from the glitter of jewels and gold and silver embroidery there was a heavy smell of perfume, stale perfume, stale herbs and stale sweat. At least Orophin, beside her, smelt normal; as, thankfully, did Faramir at her other side – Éowyn must make sure his official stewarding kit was washed regularly.
The food was good – but all the ellyn just picked at it. Tindómë had a feeling that they might have more sensitive noses and no memories to equate with hers of boys wearing strong cologne, and girls wearing too much perfume, at school dances and proms – or the particular smell of the Bronze. Still, picking at food went with their image…
As a servant poured wine into their goblets Orophin asked if they could also have goblets of water.
“Do not worry, little one,” he murmured in Sindarin, “I am not going to water your wine in public. But I will join you in drinking water with the meal and keep my wine until later. They will consider it a strange, elven, custom – and you will be able to leave the table unaided…”
“Thank you – I think!” she answered, realising that he was right – clear-headed was the way to go, tonight.
After the initial toast to the new prince of Rohan (“Not,” Faramir murmured in her ear, “that they normally bother with such titles,”) Aragorn called Lord Geoghel from his seat, at the end of the table, and asked him to introduce the King to any new members of the court. He even apologised to the elderly man that this was necessary – regretting that he had not ‘held court’ since a few days before her Majesty’s confinement. Tindómë was amused to hear his Lordship say this was understandable with a first child. She wondered how many confinements Lady Geoghel had been through.
His lordship went down amongst the other diners and, as he did so, Elladan engaged Lady Geoghel in conversation whilst the four other ellyn at the table, and Galanthir once ‘summoned’ by Legolas, pointed out people who seemed displeased by the presence of elves at the high table, or by the name of Éomer King’s heir.
Faramir could name all six men and two women indicated; one was the man Anarion had identified earlier.
When Lord Geoghel returned with a young couple, and a middle aged man, they were not amongst those noted by the ellyn. Tindómë, though, was glad of her practice in ‘maintaining her elven dignity’; the middle-aged man was the other man from the library.
That he was also Lord Lomion was soon confirmed.
The young couple had arrived at court for midsummer. The man had just inherited his father’s title and both looked thrilled, but overawed, to meet King Elessar and be personally introduced to his Steward and his wife; Prince Legolas, Lord of Ithilien, and his kinswoman Lady Tindómë; the King’s brothers, the Lords Elladan and Elrohir; finally my lords Orophin and Rumil of Lothlórien.
Lord Lomion said that he journeyed to attend court from his lands, near Dol Amroth, not having had the chance to do so before. When Aragorn commented that he must surely know Prince Faramir the man answered that differing duties, during the past troubled and war-torn years, had not brought them together.
He was, Tindómë thought, just as Anarion had said – middle-aged and ordinary. There was though, a certain hint of… malevolence… when he looked at Aragorn.
Somehow the young couple found themselves discussing how their land was recovering from the ravishes of the late war, whilst Princess Éowyn took Lord Lomion by the arm and suggested to him that her Lord… The King, and her Lord… husband would not mind if she took a turn around the room with him.
Had Aragorn and Faramir not been in on the act the slight pauses and tiny hint of contempt might have worried them. As it was, Éowyn had the makings of a good actress – she knew when not to over-act.
…………………………………………………………………
For about an hour after the last of the food was removed the members of the court circulated, and talked to each other, as a small group of musicians played in a corner. Tindómë spoke to Lady Geoghel and Rumil, who also stayed at the top table, until Legolas offered her his arm and took her to meet one or two people he knew – none with eligible daughters, though! The twins had begun to circulate too, with Orophin in tow. All kept ears and eyes open – they would ‘report back’ later.
Finally Aragorn stood and offered his arm to Éowyn – the other members of the ‘top-table party’ formed up behind him, and left the hall. As Lord and Lady Geoghel returned to their rooms in the citadel, the others gathered in the King’s private apartment, where Arwen and Galanthir joined them.
“I do not like that man,” Éowyn said, “but I think he now feels that I do not like my current position – that I would prefer to be married to a ruling Steward at least…”
There was a fleeting eye contact between Legolas and Aragorn; something there that Tindómë didn’t fully ‘get’, she thought. She must remember to ask Legolas sometime…
“That man does not like you, my brother.” Elrohir joined the conversation, and the other ellyn, and Tindómë, all voiced agreement.
“He was either very careful not to show his thoughts during the meal, when he sat with others, which seems odd when he seems to be encouraging discontent, or elves do not really bother him at all,” Elladan observed.
“Let me get this straight in my mind,” Arwen said. “The man called Lord Lomion has recently joined the court, from the Dol Amroth region. Since he arrived he seems to be convincing others that elves are trying to take over Gondor and change everything and that it would be better to go back to the old ways. He shows no noticeable dislike or contempt when confronted by a top table almost totally made up of elves, or the news that the King of Rohan has named his heir ‘Elf-friend’. Perhaps he is as used to keeping his inner thoughts guarded as we are… and yet it is clear that he dislikes you, my love.”
“That would seem to be correct,” Aragorn agreed.
“Then could it be that he finds it easier to stir unrest aimed at the ‘otherness’ of your family than by trying to convince them that you are a bad king?” Arwen suggested. “Perhaps his dislike is really more personal.”
Quickly the others considered what she said, and agreed.
“I wonder,” Tindómë said, thinking out loud, “if he really is called Lord Lomion? If he totally is who he says he is, would Prince Imrahil know why he doesn’t like you?”
“I will send a message in the morning,” Aragorn said. “It can go by boat down the Anduin.”
“I will draw a sketch,” Rumil offered, “I can do it now.” From a pocket in his formal robes he produced a pencil, as Arwen passed him a sheet of paper.
The conversation continued around her but Tindómë sat quietly beside Rumil, watching the man slowly coming to life on the page, but not really concentrating her thoughts there. Instead she was thinking back to all the detective shows she had watched on TV – especially in the summer without Buffy, when she had watched almost anything, often with Spike, to stop her thinking about her sister.
“I guess,” she said slowly after a few minutes, “that we need to know his motivation, and also just how big this thing is. Is this an enormously Big Bad using a little person to try to stir things up? Probably not, ‘cos the enormously Big Bad was pretty solidly defeated three years ago,” she answered her own question, “and I really can’t see any chance of Sauron stirring things up ever again.
“Otherwise,” she continued, “is this just a really personal thing? You once beat him in a game of cards, or the woman he wanted to marry said ‘no’ and he thinks it is because she was in love with you, something like that? That would account for the nasty look we all saw there.
“Or,” before anyone else could say anything, “is it somewhere between the two extremes? Could he be working for a medium sized bad guy in the background? You can trust Prince Imrahil and his sons, can’t you? ‘Cos usually you need to look at who benefits – would they get a shot at being king if you weren’t here?”
“I think I can trust Imrahil with my life,” Aragorn said, smiling slightly, “I have done so more than once. Nor can I see any of his sons plotting against me. Yet I cannot think of any time that I have met this Lord Lomion to have given him personal cause to dislike me.
“However, I think between you and my wife you have given us food for thought. We would do well to all consider who might benefit from any plot against me, or simply any unrest in my court.”
‘Time,’ thought Tindómë, ‘to channel my inner Nancy Drew…’
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The BtVS characters do not belong to me, but are used for amusement only. All rights remain the property of Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, and the original TV companies. The same is true of the LotR characters for whom all rights remain the property of the estate of JRR Tolkien and the companies responsible for the production of the films.
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Manoah commented last time about the problem of people having more than one name.
I try to use the name that the POV character would use, with others using their own versions in speech - so it must get confusing, particularly with Aragorn...
Aragorn is his given name, chosen by his parents. Estel is the name given him as a child in hiding in Rivendell (Imladris in Sindarin). Strider is the name he used travelling as a ranger, and is how the hobbits think of him. He had at least one more name along the way, and took Elessar as his royal name. Usually, here he is Aragorn to all but Arwen and her brothers, or the formal King Elessar to his people.
Legolas is the son of King Thranduil of 'The Greenwood' (Eryn Lasgalen to the elves), which was known in the days of the Ring War as Mirkwood - so he gets referred to as a Prince of all three. But he moved, with other elves, to the blighted woods of Ithilien to help them heal - so is also Lord of Ithilien.
The twins are the sons of Elrond - so individually use the patronymic Elrondion - but when spoken of together they are the Elrondionath.
Oh, and, of course, Tindómë was previously known as Dawn Summers.
Any more you need just ask.
But this chapter twenty two - in which Éowyn speaks of stolen children and Rumil considers the Gondorian Court en masse...
So - Previous chapters are Here.
Chapter Twenty-two.
Rating 15
5,300 words.
Beta'd, as usual, by S2C.
“Tell me truly, Tindómë, are you a stolen child?”
Tindómë looked blankly at Éowyn for a few seconds.
“Am I a what?”
“A stolen child.”
Vague memories of European folk tales in Giles’ books stirred in Tindómë’s mind, but she must have continued to look blankly at Éowyn, as the Princess of Ithilien began to explain.
“When I was a child I was told that the terrible witch of Dwimordene, and her grey shadow spirits, would snatch children left unguarded outdoors and fly with them back to the deep, dark, woods.
“I know now that the Lady Galadriel is not a wicked witch, and that the shadow spirits must be the elven warriors in their grey cloaks but,” she continued, “we were told that they took babies and small children because she could not have children of her own, and that the children would become shadow spirits.”
Tindómë could feel her jaw dropping, and her eyes widening. ‘Elven dignity, no facial expression, look blank!’ she urged herself, waiting for Éowyn to continue.
“Well,” Éowyn did, indeed, plough on, “I know, from things that Legolas has said, that there have been no elflings born outside Mirkwood for a long time. So that would explain the idea that the witch couldn’t have children… and if Merry and Pippin, the hobbits, grew taller by drinking the water meant for ents, then you might have grown taller from drinking the water meant for elves!”
‘That is so wrong, on so many levels!’ Tindómë thought, stunned that someone as, apparently, intelligent as Éowyn could still believe such a folk tale.
“No! No – absolutely not!” she answered. “There is just no way elves would do anything like that! How could you really believe something like that?”
Éowyn still looked as if she needed convincing. “But how, then, did you come to be amongst the elves? If no elflings have been born for many years how did Legolas attend your coming of age, only months ago, unless you were not born as an elfling?
“Also you do not look like an elf – you don’t have the pointed ears, or the pale skin that almost glows – and the picture Rumil drew of you asleep showed your eyes closed – but I have seen Legolas asleep and he stares as if at nothing… If you are not a stolen child, then how did you come to be… as you are?”
‘Bummer!’ thought Tindómë, ‘Arwen can’t have had time to talk to her yet. How can I shoot her the ‘childhood too painful to talk about’ line myself?’
“I… it is difficult to explain. It is painful for me to talk about…”
Inside Tindómë’s mind was racing. You need to look as if it is painful to talk about – she isn’t going to buy the ‘this hurts but I am a properly stoic elf and will show no emotion’ shit. Think of something to make yourself cry…
“I… I wasn’t actually born in Lorien… I… I was… my mother was…”
She thought of Joyce, Mom, lying in the morgue, and of Buffy shattered at the bottom of Glory’s tower, but still couldn’t get past Éowyn thinking that she had been stolen as a child.
Then she thought of what Álith had told her about the terrible deaths of her parents, her brothers, and Gifu’s small son. Suddenly she was back in her own nightmares from the Hornburg, Gifu with arrows sticking out of her, an orc with Rumil’s head on a glaive; she could almost smell burning flesh…
…………………………………………………..
“Something is wrong with Tindómë!” Rumil looked up suddenly from the paper he was working on. “It is not pain, or danger, but she is upset. She is very near.”
“She was to meet Éowyn out in the hallway – she must still be there, it is just through those doors.” Elladan waved at the far end of the room, and continued, “We will go. Éowyn would not understand how you would know something is wrong. We can speak silently with Tindómë…”
Rumil nodded briefly as the twins got to their feet and out through the door in seconds; apparently, to anyone on the other side, strolling casually and deep in conversation.
Tindómë stood with tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes slightly unfocussed; Éowyn was at her side, looking… worried? Guilty?
“What is wrong?” Elladan asked.
“I didn’t mean to upset her,” Éowyn answered. “I only asked how she came to be amongst the elves of Lorien.”
“You see to the little one, I will see to Éowyn,” Elladan’s ‘voice’ said inside Elrohir’s mind.
Elrohir put his fingers gently to one of Tindómë’s cheeks, turning her to look at him. He spoke silently to her. “What is wrong, little warrior? Rumil felt that you were upset…”
Her eyes cleared as she looked into his. She was obviously not totally lost in memory as an elf sometimes was.
“’S all right,” her mental voice was still slightly unsure. “Éowyn asked me about where I came from. Arwen was going to give her the ‘don’t ask, it upsets her’ talk but I guess she hasn’t had time. I tried to look as if thinking about the time before I got to Lorien was really upsetting. I tried to think of things to make me cry… I just did it too well.
“I thought of what Álith told me of her family – and suddenly it was a bit like being back in my nightmare. It worked though… I guess I look pretty upset!”
Elrohir brushed the fingers across her cheek in a gesture of reassurance as he ‘told’ Elladan briefly what Tindómë had said.
Someone was approaching. Within seconds the twins had manoeuvred both the young women into the room where the other ellyn were.
Rumil looked up as they entered the door and came quickly to Tindómë’s side – Éowyn would surely never guess that it was Rumil who had first noticed that his ‘not-quite-betrothed’ was upset.
He took her fingers in his and touched foreheads with her. Elrohir took the opportunity to briefly explain, silently, to Rumil what had happened.
Elladan was speaking to Éowyn.
“Before she was restored to the elves her life was dark and terrible with many threats and evils – you yourself know of the death of parents, the fears you had when Grima Wormtongue had power… You can imagine…
“We have been her healers; both as she recovered from horrific physical injuries and the hurts to her fëa, her spirit. It is best for her not to be reminded of those early years, not to speak of them. Her time in Lorien has been like a healing balm to her fëa, but it is still like an injury that has formed a scab – it is well not to pick at it.”
“Well put, El,” Elrohir said silently to his brother.
“I… I am very sorry, Tindómë,” Éowyn sounded quite chastened.
Fingers still entwined with Rumil’s, Tindómë smiled and answered.
“It’s fine, really. I just – you caught me off balance. Come on – let’s go get some retail therapy – uh, go buy gifts for Elfwine and listen to the gossip.”
As she turned towards Éowyn, Tindómë looked at Elrohir; her eyes widening briefly, her head slightly to one side.
“I am listening,” he ‘told’ her.
“El, I have so got to tell you all the weird things that Éowyn believes about the elves! ‘Cos if she can believe such weird things, then goodness knows what some of the ordinary people might believe! But it will wait until I get back.”
She blew her nose and handed Rumil back his handkerchief. He gently tucked a loose strand of hair, from behind an ear, back into the knot at Tindómë’s neck, and the look that passed between them spoke of some private amusement.
Tindómë took Éowyn by the elbow, and steered her out of the room, discussing just what would be a good gift for an infant prince of Rohan.
“Thank you,” Rumil said to the twins, before returning to the table, his pencils, and paints.
………………………………………………………………
The shopping expedition was fun – even if Éowyn still kept giving her worried glances when she thought Tindómë wouldn’t notice.
It occurred to Tindómë that all the things she guessed you would buy for a baby back in Sunnydale were either not suitable or not available. Stretchy sleep suits and battery powered crib mobiles were nowhere to be seen…
“Anything made of wood I’ll leave to the ellyn,” she told Éowyn. “If I bought anything they’d just tell me they could have carved it better themselves.”
“Themselves?” Éowyn asked.
“Well, yes, although the twins don’t play with bits of wood and knives as much as the others – I think it’s their Noldor heritage – they would probably prefer to make something of metal. But all elves make things of one sort or another – everyone needs a hobby! And being able to make what you might need is pretty useful.”
She paused before adding, “And it would probably surprise Sam Gamgee to know that the ellyn are all pretty good cooks too – they just don’t stop to cook when speed is more important.”
“I… it is difficult to imagine warriors cooking well…” Éowyn began, and then suddenly said “I didn’t know that you knew Sam Gamgee.”
‘Bummer!’ Tindómë thought.
“They visited Lorien…” she said out loud, quickly followed by “Oh look! A stuffed toy oliphaunt! Don’t you just think a little boy would love that?”
Eventually they had a couple of suitable gifts for Elfwine. Also some fabric to make a new dress for Éowyn, a delicate shawl for Tindómë to wear if she felt cold (to replace the scarf she had given Fritha back at Helm’s Deep) and, on the stall of a man from Dol Amroth, tiny seed pearls. Tindómë thought they would look beautiful as a necklace, or earrings, or just threaded into hair. She might give some to Rumil, but not to Legolas – he so did not need to be reminded of The Sea.
They had also engaged a lot of people in conversation – buying gifts for a new baby made it very easy to bring up the subject of the new princess. It was clear that most people thought that their King was good; their King was handsome; the Queen was beautiful; the Queen was kind; the Queen was certainly young enough to have many more babies, and would doubtless have an heir soon. But, also, from one old lady, perhaps not so oddly bearing in mind what Éowyn had said to Tindómë earlier; the Queen was surely not really an elf as elves didn’t have babies.
So – generally good news and one odd bit of misunderstanding; which, it occurred to Tindómë, might be seen as a reason for Elrond to have fathered Aragorn personally with a human woman – she’d better mention that to the ellyn as well.
………………………………………………………………………………
“Éowyn believes what?” Legolas sounded as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.
“She may not totally believe, so much as she doesn’t totally disbelieve,” Tindómë said, thinking about it.
“She sees me clearly looking like a young woman but her picture of ‘peredhel’ is Arwen – ivory skin, pointed ears – as elven looking as Lady Galadriel. Then she remembers back to the stories she was told as a child, and I fit that profile so much better; so she thinks, perhaps, they were true after all.”
“But she has known me for over three years, and yet she can still believe that I would steal her child?” Legolas sounded quite upset.
“I think, if you put it exactly like that to her, she would realise how silly it really sounds,” Tindómë told her gwador.
“Perhaps it is only the Galadhrim that are accused of stealing mortal children?” Orophin sounded more… amused? “When the Horse-lords arrived in the lands outside the Golden Woods we made sure that they would never venture too near to our territory,” he said. “Not that we ever took their children – they were not our enemies and, even had they been, no-one would steal children; that would be barbaric.”
Suddenly, Tindómë was brought face to face again with just how old these, apparently young, ellyn were. Orophin was not using ‘we’ to mean his people in a bygone age – he meant that he, personally, had been amongst the grey-cloaked figures who had warned off Éorl’s men if they rode too close to Lothlórien. Éorl who had, now, almost passed into legend amongst the Rohirrim.
“Between our grandparents and your father, Legolas,” Elladan said, “we have made sure that men keep well away from us. Perhaps we should not be so surprised that they then use us as figures to keep their children in hand!”
“Not your father, then?” Tindómë asked, genuinely curious.
“No – we are so well hidden in Imladris that men rarely strayed into our valley – and, if they do, then we engage them in such deep and meaningful conversation that they scurry away determined to avoid any such encounters again,” Elrohir answered her, with the hint of a smile.
“Anyway,” Tindómë said, “if an intelligent noblewoman like Éowyn can so easily begin to wonder whether childhood tales are true, how easy would it be to convince Gondorian nobles that other ‘tales’ about elves are true? Is the unrest just spontaneous, minor, people being pissy, or is someone stirring things up? Whaddya think, guys?”
“I think we may be in a position to better decide after we learn more of Lord Lomion,” Elladan answered, adding “I wonder if Men realise what an unfortunate name that is?”
…………………………………………………………………….
The large hall was already full of many people, all wearing heavy brocade dresses or tunics, seated at long tables. The evening sunlight, streaming through the high windows, touched the precious gems adorning all the women and threw fleeting rainbows onto the white walls.
Faramir led the procession in through the doors and up to the table set on a raised dais at the far end. Behind him came Aragorn, his formal robe embroidered with the white tree and stars, a circlet on his head. Éowyn walked with the king, hand on his arm, in a white gown with gold embroidery, her hair held back from her face but flowing down around her shoulders and topped with a golden circlet; the style proclaimed her still more a princess of Rohan than Gondor.
Next came Legolas, equally formally attired, every inch an Elven Prince and Lord of Ithilien. Tindómë walked with him; her hair loose, apart from two thin twists at the side, where Rumil had helped to work in some of the precious stones, gifted by Gimli when they had visited the Glittering caves, threaded on mithril wire so fine it was barely thicker than the strands of hair.
The effect, Rumil thought, coupled with the tiny gems embroidered on the bodice and hem of her dress, made her, literally, shine as brightly as any of the women of the court. In his eyes, in her elven style dress made with softer lines and finer fabric, she outshone them in every possible way. No-one would ever think her anything other than an elleth – not even Éowyn!
Rumil walked with his brother, both equally formally attired. Haldir, he thought, would have been proud of their bearing and the solemnity with which they represented Lorien. Behind them came the Elrondionath, and no-one looking at the twins could doubt that they, too, were elven lords.
At the end of the procession came the woman that the twins, and Tindómë, called ‘Arwen’s Dragon’, in a dark red dress with rubies around her neck and set into her hair. Hair that was piled up on her head until the top of it was almost level with the shoulder blades of Elladan walking in front of her. Red was a good colour for a dragon but, really, she was so short that she was surely more of a guard dog.
The man beside her must be her husband. Rumil had spent enough time now with men to recognise that he was no longer young. His face bore lines and his hair was almost as pale as Rumil’s own, but showed signs that it had once been dark. When you looked into his eyes he seemed to have an honest fëa.
As they took their places at the table, one of each pair going to the right, one to the left, Rumil found himself between Legolas and Elrohir. Valar be praised that he would not have to try to converse in the Common Tongue, nor concentrate to understand the oddly accented Sindarin spoken by the Gondorian nobility. He wondered if Éowyn, as hostess, had planned it that way? Probably yes – apart from her strange ideas about elves stealing mortal children she seemed a very competent woman.
Aragorn, at the centre of the top table, gestured for all to sit but he remained standing. He welcomed all his court, but especially his visiting family and friends, nodding to his left and right.
Anyone who thought that King Elessar was too familiar with elves was certainly not going to change their mind, and no-one would be in any doubt that these elves, at least, were honoured guests.
Next he thanked Princess Éowyn for taking the place of the Queen as hostess and announced that this was especially suitable as he had decided to dine formally, even though the Queen had not yet rejoined the court, to celebrate the birth of a son to his friend, and brother of Princess Éowyn, Éomer King of Rohan.
He paused briefly before adding “The son and heir of Éomer King is to be named Elfwine – which in the language of the Riddermark means ‘elf-friend’.”
The long pause before he sat, to let this announcement be absorbed by the court was, Rumil thought, masterful. That all the elves present, blank faced and apparently almost unaware of their surroundings, were watching the other diners for signs of reaction to the announcement was probably undetected.
This was the first time Rumil, or for that matter Orophin or Tindómë, had encountered the formal dining of the Gondorian court. There were at least seventy people sitting at the lower tables, whilst guards and… were they called footmen? Pages? Attendants, of some sort, stood around the walls. They seemed to be there simply as decoration – or perhaps in case one of the nobles need something. They were not involved in serving the food – a lower level of servant seemed to exist for that purpose.
Against the wall behind the high table stood more guards and attendants; Galanthir stood amongst them, directly behind Legolas – an even less noticed observer than the other ellyn. It was amusing, Rumil thought, that he and Galanthir, in reality, were certainly equals – yet here they were playing two different roles to fit the expectations of the mortals.
Even before the first course arrived he was beginning to hope the meal over quickly; he wanted fresh air. Turning to Legolas on his left he said, quietly, “They smell!”
It was not the smell of mortals’ fear that he had encountered during and after the battles fought beside men. Nor was it the smell of hay, smoke and horses that was present in the halls of the Rohirrim. It was a strong mixture of dried sweat, mustiness, herbs and the essence of many different flowers mixed with spirits – flowers that would never all bloom in the same place at the same time.
“I know,” Legolas answered. “It gets worse as they light the candles – they, too, are scented. It is more the clothing than the people – most of the court bathes… occasionally. The heavy fabrics make them sweat; which they do much more than us. But, I learnt from Éowyn, the embroidered fabrics are difficult to wash and so they wear them and then hang them back in their closets with bags of herbs.
“Some from outside the city, she says, hang them in their privy closet as they think the smell there wards off moths that would lay eggs in the clothes! We are fortunate, indeed, that most of those here tonight live in the citadel, or the higher parts of the city, where the privies are flushed through with water!”
“Sweet Elbereth,” Rumil said, “for that small mercy I am most grateful! But why the smell of so many blossoms soaked in spirits?”
“To cover the smell of the stale sweat…”
“But we, who do not sweat so much, wear fabrics that are less stifling and easier cleansed… why do the men not do that?”
“My friend,” answered Legolas, “I have not had enough dealings with them yet to find an answer – maybe in half a yen or so…”
The food was good, but the heavy smell took away the appetite, and not only Rumil, but all the ellyn, merely picked at the food on their plates. He caught Tindómë’s eyes and she immediately wrinkled her nose – she was certainly not immune to the smell of the people either. This gave Rumil some little comfort as he tried to breathe as little as possible.
As the last plates were cleared and the wine glasses filled again (at least the wine was good – although it was to be hoped Tindómë did not drink too much of it…) Aragorn stood and proposed a formal toast to the new prince of Rohan, Prince Elfwine.
Again, as everyone stood and repeated the toast, the elves scanned the faces for out of place emotions or expressions. Men were so unguarded in their emotions, Rumil thought, as he noted two in particular who had curled their lips at the new babe’s name, and not repeated it. No elf would have shown such obvious distaste.
……………………………
Lady Geoghel was not really so bad, Tindómë thought as they prepared to go in for dinner, but she was probably going to be very warm in that heavy dress. Thank the Valar for fine, flowing, elven muslins. There must be pounds of hairpins holding her ladyship’s hair up so intricately as well, especially to take the weight of that heavy tiara.
Éowyn looked a little more comfortable; she seemed to have developed a style of her own, somewhere between Rohan and Gondor – a ‘new Ithilien’ look perhaps. She had spoken briefly to Tindómë, before Lord and Lady Geoghel joined the party, exclaiming that, now, it was difficult to think of Tindómë as anything other than an elleth.
‘Good!’ Tindómë thought.
The members of the court had obviously gotten their best clothes out for this formal dinner. Apart from the glitter of jewels and gold and silver embroidery there was a heavy smell of perfume, stale perfume, stale herbs and stale sweat. At least Orophin, beside her, smelt normal; as, thankfully, did Faramir at her other side – Éowyn must make sure his official stewarding kit was washed regularly.
The food was good – but all the ellyn just picked at it. Tindómë had a feeling that they might have more sensitive noses and no memories to equate with hers of boys wearing strong cologne, and girls wearing too much perfume, at school dances and proms – or the particular smell of the Bronze. Still, picking at food went with their image…
As a servant poured wine into their goblets Orophin asked if they could also have goblets of water.
“Do not worry, little one,” he murmured in Sindarin, “I am not going to water your wine in public. But I will join you in drinking water with the meal and keep my wine until later. They will consider it a strange, elven, custom – and you will be able to leave the table unaided…”
“Thank you – I think!” she answered, realising that he was right – clear-headed was the way to go, tonight.
After the initial toast to the new prince of Rohan (“Not,” Faramir murmured in her ear, “that they normally bother with such titles,”) Aragorn called Lord Geoghel from his seat, at the end of the table, and asked him to introduce the King to any new members of the court. He even apologised to the elderly man that this was necessary – regretting that he had not ‘held court’ since a few days before her Majesty’s confinement. Tindómë was amused to hear his Lordship say this was understandable with a first child. She wondered how many confinements Lady Geoghel had been through.
His lordship went down amongst the other diners and, as he did so, Elladan engaged Lady Geoghel in conversation whilst the four other ellyn at the table, and Galanthir once ‘summoned’ by Legolas, pointed out people who seemed displeased by the presence of elves at the high table, or by the name of Éomer King’s heir.
Faramir could name all six men and two women indicated; one was the man Anarion had identified earlier.
When Lord Geoghel returned with a young couple, and a middle aged man, they were not amongst those noted by the ellyn. Tindómë, though, was glad of her practice in ‘maintaining her elven dignity’; the middle-aged man was the other man from the library.
That he was also Lord Lomion was soon confirmed.
The young couple had arrived at court for midsummer. The man had just inherited his father’s title and both looked thrilled, but overawed, to meet King Elessar and be personally introduced to his Steward and his wife; Prince Legolas, Lord of Ithilien, and his kinswoman Lady Tindómë; the King’s brothers, the Lords Elladan and Elrohir; finally my lords Orophin and Rumil of Lothlórien.
Lord Lomion said that he journeyed to attend court from his lands, near Dol Amroth, not having had the chance to do so before. When Aragorn commented that he must surely know Prince Faramir the man answered that differing duties, during the past troubled and war-torn years, had not brought them together.
He was, Tindómë thought, just as Anarion had said – middle-aged and ordinary. There was though, a certain hint of… malevolence… when he looked at Aragorn.
Somehow the young couple found themselves discussing how their land was recovering from the ravishes of the late war, whilst Princess Éowyn took Lord Lomion by the arm and suggested to him that her Lord… The King, and her Lord… husband would not mind if she took a turn around the room with him.
Had Aragorn and Faramir not been in on the act the slight pauses and tiny hint of contempt might have worried them. As it was, Éowyn had the makings of a good actress – she knew when not to over-act.
…………………………………………………………………
For about an hour after the last of the food was removed the members of the court circulated, and talked to each other, as a small group of musicians played in a corner. Tindómë spoke to Lady Geoghel and Rumil, who also stayed at the top table, until Legolas offered her his arm and took her to meet one or two people he knew – none with eligible daughters, though! The twins had begun to circulate too, with Orophin in tow. All kept ears and eyes open – they would ‘report back’ later.
Finally Aragorn stood and offered his arm to Éowyn – the other members of the ‘top-table party’ formed up behind him, and left the hall. As Lord and Lady Geoghel returned to their rooms in the citadel, the others gathered in the King’s private apartment, where Arwen and Galanthir joined them.
“I do not like that man,” Éowyn said, “but I think he now feels that I do not like my current position – that I would prefer to be married to a ruling Steward at least…”
There was a fleeting eye contact between Legolas and Aragorn; something there that Tindómë didn’t fully ‘get’, she thought. She must remember to ask Legolas sometime…
“That man does not like you, my brother.” Elrohir joined the conversation, and the other ellyn, and Tindómë, all voiced agreement.
“He was either very careful not to show his thoughts during the meal, when he sat with others, which seems odd when he seems to be encouraging discontent, or elves do not really bother him at all,” Elladan observed.
“Let me get this straight in my mind,” Arwen said. “The man called Lord Lomion has recently joined the court, from the Dol Amroth region. Since he arrived he seems to be convincing others that elves are trying to take over Gondor and change everything and that it would be better to go back to the old ways. He shows no noticeable dislike or contempt when confronted by a top table almost totally made up of elves, or the news that the King of Rohan has named his heir ‘Elf-friend’. Perhaps he is as used to keeping his inner thoughts guarded as we are… and yet it is clear that he dislikes you, my love.”
“That would seem to be correct,” Aragorn agreed.
“Then could it be that he finds it easier to stir unrest aimed at the ‘otherness’ of your family than by trying to convince them that you are a bad king?” Arwen suggested. “Perhaps his dislike is really more personal.”
Quickly the others considered what she said, and agreed.
“I wonder,” Tindómë said, thinking out loud, “if he really is called Lord Lomion? If he totally is who he says he is, would Prince Imrahil know why he doesn’t like you?”
“I will send a message in the morning,” Aragorn said. “It can go by boat down the Anduin.”
“I will draw a sketch,” Rumil offered, “I can do it now.” From a pocket in his formal robes he produced a pencil, as Arwen passed him a sheet of paper.
The conversation continued around her but Tindómë sat quietly beside Rumil, watching the man slowly coming to life on the page, but not really concentrating her thoughts there. Instead she was thinking back to all the detective shows she had watched on TV – especially in the summer without Buffy, when she had watched almost anything, often with Spike, to stop her thinking about her sister.
“I guess,” she said slowly after a few minutes, “that we need to know his motivation, and also just how big this thing is. Is this an enormously Big Bad using a little person to try to stir things up? Probably not, ‘cos the enormously Big Bad was pretty solidly defeated three years ago,” she answered her own question, “and I really can’t see any chance of Sauron stirring things up ever again.
“Otherwise,” she continued, “is this just a really personal thing? You once beat him in a game of cards, or the woman he wanted to marry said ‘no’ and he thinks it is because she was in love with you, something like that? That would account for the nasty look we all saw there.
“Or,” before anyone else could say anything, “is it somewhere between the two extremes? Could he be working for a medium sized bad guy in the background? You can trust Prince Imrahil and his sons, can’t you? ‘Cos usually you need to look at who benefits – would they get a shot at being king if you weren’t here?”
“I think I can trust Imrahil with my life,” Aragorn said, smiling slightly, “I have done so more than once. Nor can I see any of his sons plotting against me. Yet I cannot think of any time that I have met this Lord Lomion to have given him personal cause to dislike me.
“However, I think between you and my wife you have given us food for thought. We would do well to all consider who might benefit from any plot against me, or simply any unrest in my court.”
‘Time,’ thought Tindómë, ‘to channel my inner Nancy Drew…’
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The BtVS characters do not belong to me, but are used for amusement only. All rights remain the property of Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, and the original TV companies. The same is true of the LotR characters for whom all rights remain the property of the estate of JRR Tolkien and the companies responsible for the production of the films.
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Manoah commented last time about the problem of people having more than one name.
I try to use the name that the POV character would use, with others using their own versions in speech - so it must get confusing, particularly with Aragorn...
Aragorn is his given name, chosen by his parents. Estel is the name given him as a child in hiding in Rivendell (Imladris in Sindarin). Strider is the name he used travelling as a ranger, and is how the hobbits think of him. He had at least one more name along the way, and took Elessar as his royal name. Usually, here he is Aragorn to all but Arwen and her brothers, or the formal King Elessar to his people.
Legolas is the son of King Thranduil of 'The Greenwood' (Eryn Lasgalen to the elves), which was known in the days of the Ring War as Mirkwood - so he gets referred to as a Prince of all three. But he moved, with other elves, to the blighted woods of Ithilien to help them heal - so is also Lord of Ithilien.
The twins are the sons of Elrond - so individually use the patronymic Elrondion - but when spoken of together they are the Elrondionath.
Oh, and, of course, Tindómë was previously known as Dawn Summers.
Any more you need just ask.
