Chapter One- Eomer Tempts Fate

Eomer stood motionless, thankful for the darkness that cloaked him.  He had ridden through Orc infested lands, crawling with vile and evil creatures.  He had fought in battles not to be won-- battles where his men were stunningly outnumbered by their enemies.  He had even dared to face Sauron at his Black Gate, knowing that they were outnumbered and severely unprepared.  And yet, above all of those fears, this moment was greater.  He stood now, as still as the murky waters of a catch basin deep into Moria.  He held onto the tree that hid him, fearing that if he let go, his knees would buckle and he would be discovered.  Despite his many layers of clothing, he shivered.  Underneath his thick tunic, his leggings and his robe, a sheen of cold sweat covered him.

His eyes never strayed from the fascinating figure in the river.  When Eomer had stumbled upon the scene, she was kneeling in the shallow water washing her clothing.  Despite the chill in the air, she wore only a slip.  When she was finished washing her clothing, she stood and waded farther into the river, using the hem of her ankle-length slip to scrub her face, neck and arms.  She then sat down in the shallow end again and leaned her head back until her long blond hair was immersed in the cold, rushing water.  She stayed this way, with her entire head under the water, save her nose and mouth for quite sometime. 

Eomer stood, too afraid to move, but also unable to avert his eyes.  He knew that if he wanted to leave without giving himself away, now would be the time, but try as he might, he couldn’t.   

The woman’s chest rose and fell rapidly, no doubt affected by the cold water.  Finally, when her nerves could no longer stand the cold, and her heart threatened to resign, she sat up, squeezed the water out of her hair, and walked onto the gravel bank.  She gathered up the hem of her slip and wrung it out.  She stood there for some time, staring off into the dark, allowing the cold breeze to dry her skin. 

Eomer knew that she would be passing near him soon, for the tree that supported him grew right off of the trail leading back to the rolling plains of Rohan.  He knew it was too late to try to sneak off now.  The brush was too thick to cut through, and the trail was wide and flat, and only too near to where the woman stood.  He was trapped, caught by his own weakness.  He could do nothing but hide in the shadows of the trees and wait.

Finally, the woman turned and wrapped herself in a red cloak hanging from a nearby tree branch.  Gathering her wet clothing into a bundle, she set off up the trail.  Eomer tried to creep around the tree without crunching the dry, brittle leaves that coated the forest floor.  She was only a few feet away from him now.  He closed his eyes as she grew nearer, as if afraid that the burning in his heart would be reflected through his eyes.  And then she was past him, making great speed up the trail, longing for the warmth of the fire that she knew awaited her at her family’s camp.  He watched her fade into the cold moonlight, her head hung low, pressing her chin to her chest with her arms folded tightly in front of her.

She was gone, and yet he still could not leave.  He stood there, watching the spot on the trail where he had last seen here.  He marveled at her strength and independence.  Never did women of the Mark bathe alone, especially not at night.  They always went in groups, and always under the warmth of the afternoon sun.  It was a tradition.  Something that the women delighted in doing, much as the men delighted in going on hunting excursions.  Even after the fall of Sauron and the return of the True King of Gondor, the custom continued.  The woods and the plains of Rohan were safe now.  Orcs and Uruks had been eliminated and driven into hiding.  But whether living in Edoras or in the outlying lands, the old customs continued.

Eomer was still staring off into the distance, trying to recall the face of the young woman he had seen.  She could not have been much older than 20.  She was lean and pale, but also toned and strong.   She did not seem to be a woman who had enjoyed an easy life.  Her back was straight and proud, but her shoulders spoke of one who worked tirelessly.  Though he could not see the color of her eyes, he imagined them to be a stormy green; a strong color that would mirror the strength that he observed in her.

“Where does she come from?” Eomer said to himself out loud.  A noise behind him made Eomer spin around suddenly. 

“She comes from a family who does not take kindly to people who threaten her security!”  A tall, broad-shouldered youth stood before Eomer.  His sword was drawn and his eyes were full of rage.  “What are you doing here?” He demanded.

Eomer knew he was caught, but his heart was not troubled.  Had he been caught by the woman he would have been horrified, but before him stood only a boy; tall and strong no doubt, but still, only a boy.  “Forgive me lad, I meant her no harm.  I was going to bathe in the river myself, when I came upon her.”

The boy stepped closer, sword still pointing directly at Eomer’s throat.  “Do you think I am a fool?  I have been watching you just as you have been watching my sister.  You have been looking upon her with your lustful eyes!”

Eomer was shocked at this accusation; he was after all the King of the Mark.  Who was this impudent boy?  He stepped towards him, his hand outstretched in a sign on truce.  “Settle down lad, I had no intention of bothering your sister.”  Even as he said this his mind wandered back to the distracting image of the woman. 

Eomer was brought back into reality when he felt the sharp sting of the boy’s sword biting into his forearm.  Eomer was enraged.  “You will regret that, boy!” He shouted as he drew his sword and backed the boy up against tree.  He positioned himself to strike back and was about to do so when he saw something in the boy that startled him.  Dark, stormy green eyes stared back at him, full of contempt and indignance.  Eyes much like he had pictured in the woman. 

Eomer relaxed his grip on his sword and took a step back.  The boy glared at him, not looking at all thankful for this supposed display of mercy, in fact, he shook with rage.  He lunged again towards Eomer, who sidestepped the stroke and grabbed the boy by his neck, throwing him harshly to the ground.  He then pulled the boys’ hands behind him and pinned him down underneath the weight of his body.

The boy struggled, writhing and twisting trying to break free from the strong hold that Eomer had on him.  Eomer was still on guard, but he was no longer angry-- he was merely intrigued.  He wanted to know more about this boy and his sister.

“Settle down lad!  Do you not know who I am?” 

“I know who you are!” The boy grunted, his face pressed into the dirt below him.  “You are a coward and a thief.  You sneak around behind trees and steal the innocence of my sister.”

Eomer was shocked at the forwardness of the young man.  “Why pray tell were you here?” he shot back.  “Protecting your sister from the cold?”

The boy stopped struggling.  He turned his head as far as his stiff neck would allow and looked Eomer in the eye.  “How dare you accuse me of preying on my own sister?”  He was not yelling; his voice was quiet, yet fierce.

“Of course that is not what I meant to imply.” Eomer said quickly.  But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie.  What was I implying?  I would never allow Eowyn to go into the woods alone at night to bath.  I would follow her and keep a discreet watch.  Eomer’s mind raced as he tried to find justifications for his actions.  Had he found someone spying on Eowyn he would have slit their throat without any questions, for his sisters honor would be at stake.  He now felt sick to his stomach at the thought of what he had done.  He was not filled with lustful thoughts as he watched the woman, he was captivated by her; but even so, he knew what he had done was wrong. 

Eomer was brought back to the present by the sound of hoof-beats advancing towards the river.  He quickly released the boy, stood, bowed to him, and then retreated quickly across the river, away from the girls’ camp.  His horse was quite a ways down the river on the side that he had just left, but he didn’t want to encounter whoever was coming by horse.  So he pressed on, through thick brush, off the trail, trying to follow the river as closely as possible.  Finally, he came to a spot where he could cross easily, and he did so, returning to his horse within the next hour.

Eomer did not know if the boy had tried to follow, but he had not any indication that he was anything but completely and utterly alone in those woods.  Comfortable, Eomer thought sarcastically to himself. I am always alone, even when surrounded by many.  Why change anything now?

Chapter Two- A Neglected Friend

“Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence!”

Eomer looked up from grooming his horse and rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his tired and parched lips.  Standing before him was Gaviwyr, his chief guard and trusted confidant.  “Hello friend, beautiful night isn’t it?”

“Where in the world have you been?” Gaviwyr demanded as he picked up a brush and began grooming the horse where Eomer had left off.  The poor beast was soaked in sweat; burrs and thorns matted its muddy fur.  King Theoden would have caused a mighty ruckus had a horse been returned in this condition during his reign.  Only now, it was the King himself who did the returning.

“I am sorry,” Eomer started unconvincingly, “I didn’t intend to go so far…or stay out so long…I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble.”  He collapsed into a pile of coarse, green hay, with his forearm stretched across his eyes.

Gaviwyr stopped his brushing.  He patted the horse on its neck and led it into an empty stall.  Returning to Eomer, he lifted his master’s arm from off of his face and set it at his side.  Looking hesitantly into Eomer’s eyes, Gaviwyr pleaded, “Eomer, why don’t you confide in me anymore?  Did we not used to play together, ride together… even fight together?  Am I no longer your friend?”

Eomer tried to look unconcerned as he contended, “Of course we are still friends Gav!  I really don’t know what you are so concerned about.”

Gaviwyr’s face fell and his eyebrows furrowed into an obvious display of frustration.  “Fine.  If you don’t want to tell me what is bothering you, you don’t have to.  But there was a time when you trusted me.  A time when my opinion mattered.  What time is it now Eomer?  Whom do you turn to now?”

With that Gaviwyr turned to walk away.  He intended to storm out, but he only made it as far as the stable doors when he stopped suddenly.  He knew he was being selfish-- his friend was hurting somehow and needed his help, even if he was too stubborn to ask for it.  So he leaned back, sliding down against the doorpost.  He sat hunched over with his chin resting on his arms, trying not to make eye contact with Eomer who still rested in the hay not 15 feet away.  He would wait here until Eomer was ready to talk.

Eomer was surprised when Gaviwyr didn’t leave.  He wanted him to leave.  His staying made Eomer feel even guiltier than he already did for lying to his best friend.  I can’t just lay here and let him wallow in MY misery!  He rolled to his side and pulled himself into a sitting position.  Resisting the urge to roll his eyes and sound condescending, he asked, “Gav, what are you doing?” 

Gaviwyr couldn’t help but smile; the incredulous look on Eomer’s face was fairly amusing.  “I am waiting for you to come to your senses.”  He was now hiding his face in his arms, trying not to let Eomer see his foolish grin. 

But Eomer did see it, and he couldn’t help but respond.  He bit his lips trying to keep them from curling into that tell-tale smile.  “Dwarves Alive!  Can’t you just let me sulk!” he laughed.  He knew how foolish he looked, trying in vain not to smile.  Like a four year old who forgets why he is even throwing a temper-tantrum in the first place.

“Brother, I could not leave.” Gaviwyr replied, suddenly turning more serious.  “I will not let you think that you have been abandoned.  Not by me.  Not ever.”

Eomer was horrified when he felt the pricking of tears in the corners of his eyes.  Kings do not cry!  He turned his head, trying desperately to find some excuse to avert his attention.  He walked back over to his horse who was happily feeding in its stable.  “I’m sorry I have been so distant,” he said loud enough for Gaviwyr to hear.  “I don’t know what is wrong with me.  I feel like I am a different person.”

Gaviwyr sighed.  “You are a different person Eomer, you’re the King!  You have the responsibility of an entire nation in your hands!  That is no easy life Eomer, you know that!  You knew that when you accepted Theoden’s request.  But why are you troubled?  You are still Eomer!  Still a fearless warrior!  A warrior who valiantly aided his people in the Deep, who defied Sauraman and Grima, staying true to what he knew to be right.  And above being the King and a warrior, you are a good friend and a good person.  You are a king among men, not because of your bloodline, but because of your heart!”

Eomer had not expected such a fervent reaction from his friend.  His heart fell to think that he had neglected one so caring.  He knew he didn’t deserve all of the compliments that Gaviwyr had bestowed upon him, and yet he felt better because of them.  “Surely if you can see so much good in me, I must not be as much a failure as I think.”

Gaviwyr nodded in agreement as he walked over to Eomer, taking his arm and sitting him down.  “Sit.  Talk.  Unload your burdens.  I will listen.  But first, tell me where you’ve been these past three days.”

Eomer related his tale with utter abandon.  Never did it feel so good to confide in a friend.  In Eomer’s mind the situation by the river was a small matter.  He didn’t understand why his heart would not settle on the matter and forget it.  He admitted to Gaviwyr that he felt guilty for having stayed as long as he did, but he also swore to him that his intentions were nothing but pure.

Gaviwyr assured Eomer that he knew his intentions could be nothing but pure, and that he should forget the matter and not worry about it anymore.  “But why did you leave in the first place?” 

“I needed to get away from here-- away from being the King.”  He took a deep breath and sighed, “Gaviwyr, forgive me.  When I left I did so because I felt I had been abandoned.  Ever since Eowyn left for Gondor I have felt so alone.  I know that I could have turned to you, but at the time, it didn’t seem that way.”

“Surely.”  Gaviwyr replied.  “But I feel there is more than loneliness making you unhappy.”

Eomer stood and started pacing in front of Gaviwyr.  “I am used to roaming, Gav!  I am used to riding with our company, never settling for long.  Never worrying about myself, but rather a higher cause.  Now our warriors are stationary.  I am stationary!  I am surrounded every moment of the day by masses of people.  I feel like they watch me ceaselessly.  They expect me to be a great King!  But I still feel like a little boy who misses his family.  I miss them so much Gav…”

“Eomer, you put far too much pressure on yourself,” Gaviwyr interrupted.

“I know.  It all makes sense when you say it, but in my heart I still feel insufficient.”

“You shouldn’t.  You were born to be a leader.  And as for missing your family, there is no shame in it.  You don’t have to hide your sorrow.  People don’t expect you to be as rigid as stone.  Theoden wept openly when he found his son had died.  Grief is normal, if you stifle it, you stifle you own life.”           

“I know,” Eomer resigned.  He stopped pacing and stood over Gaviwyr, offering him his hand.  Gaviwyr accepted and Eomer pulled him to his feet.  “It’s late.  I have kept you long.” 

“Not longer than I was willing.  Do you feel any better now, or have I been speaking to the horse’s rear?”

Eomer laughed.  “I do feel better.  In fact, I feel more at rest now than I have in the past month.”

“Good.  Now go sleep.  No…actually, go take a bath.  You look like you fell into an Oliphaunt pile.”

Eomer picked up a chunk of moldy hay and tossed it at Gaviwyr.  “Yes, I suppose I do.  I never did get that bath in the river last night.”

The two left the stables and walked back to the great house.  As they separated to go to their rooms, Gaviwyr quipped, “Sweet dreams, look out for young men with swords and sisters.”

Chapter Three- The Sheltered One

Pronunciation Guide:

Xanthe (my beautiful little sisters’ name, by the way) (zan-thee )

Ysenia (ya -sen-ia)

Olihre (oh-lee-ray).

Xanthe was slowly gathering her things together, preparing to leave with her family.  Her mother was cleaning out the cooking things; scrubbing each heavy, cast-iron pot with coarse but lightweight rock.  Her strong hands were black and sudsy.  The sleeves on her worn pinafore were rolled up past her elbows, revealing browned skin, weather by age, sun, and doubtless hard work.  She was humming a spirited tune, alternating between soprano and alto parts.  Xanthe looked at her mother.  She thought her to be one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen.  She had long hair, originally light brown, but lightened to a sandy blond from the sun.  It was piled on top of her head in a loose knot, accentuating her high cheekbones and long, graceful neck.  Her smile was broad, lips pressing together ever so slightly. 

Xanthe had inherited many of her mothers’ traits.  She was tall and thin, but not a waif.  Her muscles were well defined, something not generally sought after among the women of Gondor, who preferred a softer, rounder figure.  Her mother had light brown eyes, a trait that Xanthe hadn’t inherited.  She had her fathers’ dark green eyes- sometimes gray, depending on her mood.  Her brother had inherited those eyes as well.  She and her brother both had ash blond hair, one of the few traits that their mother and father had shared.

Ysenia looked at her daughter.  She was holding a pack, midway to stuffing clothing into it.  Her hands were still, and she was staring directly at her, as if in a trance.  “Darling, come back to me.” Ysenia said in a sing-song way with a smile on her face.

Xanthe snapped back to the present, blushing a bit as she looked down and continued putting clothing into her pack.  “Sorry mother.  I was just thinking.”

“About me?” Ysenia said hopefully? 

“Of course!”  Xanthe laughed.  “Who else is there to think about?”

“Hmmm…I suppose there is your brother, and our mules…oh, and let us not forget about our guinea fowl!”

“Yes mum, I was daydreaming about our smelly birds.  Wondering when the time would come when I can eat them!”

“You’re awful,” Ysenia growled playfully, waving a blackened hand in Xanthe’s direction.  “Speaking of awful, do you have any idea why Oli’s been in such a bad mood these past two days?”    

“Oh, you know Olihre!  He just gets that way sometimes.”  Xanthe tried to sound light-hearted, but she too was a bit worried.  She and her brother were very close.  Lately Oli had been very sullen.  Whenever she tried to talk to him he would just mumble and sulk off.  She had tried joking with him to lighten the mood, but he would just look at her with an exasperated expression, and then leave.  She was beginning to be worried greatly by his change.  He was the only one she had to talk to, besides her mother.  In his withdrawn mood he was no joy to be around. 

Xanthe and her mother continued readying their camp for departure.  Olihre had gone to the woods to get fresh water for the last day of their journey.  They had been following the river for almost three weeks now.  Soon, the river would wind its way down to Edoras.  They were going there to seek out work.  Xanthe’s father had been a potter by trade.  He had died over a year ago- as a warrior in one of the skirmishes with Orcs just outside of Gondor.  Xanthe’s mother was also a skilled potter, though women were not allowed to run a business by themselves.  The family was moving to Edoras, hoping for a fresh start in their lives and their business.  Ysenia would make the pottery, and Olihre would run the business.  Xanthe would find work as a healer, as that seemed to be her particular gift.

Olihre trudged back to camp a few hours later, his back laden with a light birch yoke, attached to two water bags, one on each side of him.  He laid the bags down carefully, pouring their contents into several smaller water pouches.  Ysenia and Xanthe watched him cautiously, careful not to be caught staring. 

“Son, why don’t you come eat before we leave?  I can finish with the water and supplies.”

“I’m fine thank you.” Olihre said with an unconvincing smile.  “I ate some berries along the trail.  I’ll finish up here.”

“All right then…if you say so.” Ysenia looked sidelong at him, her worried eyes almost hidden in her profile.  “I am going to go wash my hair in the river before we set off.  I want to look at least somewhat presentable when we arrive in Edoras.”

Ysenia picked up her travel bag and headed off to the river, which could be heard flowing not 100 yards away.

“All right, out with it!”

Olihre knew this was coming.  “Xanthe, really, I am getting tired of your prying!”

“Prying!  I have a right to know what it is that is making you so unpleasant to be around!”

“Maybe there is a reason I have not told you.  Why don’t you trust me?  I am three years your elder, you know!  You would think a twenty-four year old MAN could reserve the right to make his own decisions!”

“Surely, and if you made your decision and then returned to good old Oli then I wouldn’t be prying, but you haven’t.  Something is bothering you Oli!  Just tell me what it is, I can handle it!”  Xanthe knew she was beginning to ramble now.  “Besides, it can’t be that big a deal if I don’t know about it already!”

“Really?” Olihre shot back at her, frustrated with her stubbornness.  “You don’t think being spied on while you bathe is a big deal?”

Xanthe faltered.  Her stomach turned and she felt as though her forehead were about to burst into flames.  “You’re lying,” she said weakly. 

Olihre knew he shouldn’t have presented it to her in such a way.  He walked over and put his arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have told you.  I didn’t want you to worry about it.  I didn’t want it to scare you.”

Xanthe shrugged Olihre’s arm off of her shoulders.  She backed away shaking her head.  “Oli, I would have known if someone were there.  I would have felt it…wouldn’t I?”

“He kept very quiet Xan.” Olihre now seriously regretted having told his sister anything.  He knew Xanthe would let it eat away at her.  She would be paranoid now.  She was already a very anxious girl, and now he had made her even more vulnerable.

“When Oli?  I haven’t bathed since the night we crossed the river.  Was it then?”

“It was.  The night you took your clothes to be washed also.”  Olihre searched for words of comfort.  “Anyway Xan, you always bathe in your slip, so there really wasn’t any harm done, right?”  Even as he said the words he knew they were both untrue and the wrong thing to say to his sister.

Xanthe looked like she had been slapped.  She turned and hunched over, kneeling on the ground, her face buried in her lap.  She was not crying.  She never cried.  She was just trying to wash away the filthy, dirty feeling that she had coating her.  She felt as though she were standing in the middle of a town square, naked and bleeding. 

Olihre knelt down beside her, “Xan, I didn’t mean it that way.  Of course there was harm done.  Why do you think I have been so upset all this time?”

Xanthe didn’t want to hear Olihre anymore.  She wanted him to stop talking and leave her alone.  “Just go away for a while, please.”

“Xan, we are leaving in a few minutes.  Where would you have me go?”

Xanthe turned and glared at Olihre, searching for something to say.  “What were you doing at the river anyway?  I told you I don’t need you to protect me anymore.  I am not a child!”

Olihre was taken aback.  “Obviously you needed someone to protect you!” he said with insistence. 

Xanthe knew he was right.  “What did you do?”

“About what?”

“About the man?” 

“I waited until you left and then I confronted him.”

“And…”

“And he was much more skilled with a sword than I was, Xan.  But I did stand up for you; I even nicked his arm with my sword.”

“Oli!” Xanthe was truly worried now.  She felt guilty at having yelled at her brother, when she knew full well that he was only trying to help.  “How did you escape?”

“If it makes you feel any better, he said that he hadn’t meant to spy.  He said he was going to bathe in the river too, when he stumbled upon you.  Load of rubbish, obviously, but he did let me go.” 

Xanthe raised her eyebrows in surprise.

Olihre read her disbelief.  “Right when those riders came through, Xan.  He must have thought that they were with us.”

“What was he like Oli?  Is he from around here?”

Olihre knew very well where he was from.  He was the King of the Mark.  Eomer, the brave and beloved captain of Rohan’s armies, now king.  But somehow, despite his intense hatred of this man, he did not want to tell his sister it was he.  He did not want to give a face to the fear that he knew his sister would feel for a long time to come.  “He was just a peasant.  Probably from a farm around here.”

“A peasant who could best my brother in a swordfight?  That is truly strange.”  The comment was not incredulous, only factual.  Olihre was one of the best swordsmen in Gondor.  He had won fame among those his own age for being the champion of nearly every mach he was ever challenged to.

Olihre looked up and saw his mother returning from the river, her hair wrapped up in an old cloth.  “Listen Xan, do what you will, but I think it would be best if you didn’t tell Mum about this.  You have me to talk to; I don’t think you should worry her.”

“I agree.  She would only forbid me any semblance of freedom I may find in Edoras.”  With that, Xanthe hugged her brother.  “Thank you for telling me.  It is good to know that you have been looking after me, although irksome that I should have any need of being looked after.  Now cheer up will you?  I need you to be happy again.  Please?”

Xanthe looked desperate.  Olihre sighed.  “Sure Xan.  I am always here for you.”  He meant this.  He would keep a close eye on his sister now that they would be in Edoras.  He doubted that they would run into the King, but one never knew.

Chapter Four- Fate Returns the Favor

“My dears, how good to see you!  How did your trip fare?”  The old man hobbling towards Ysenia and her children had his arms outstretched in an obvious plea for a hug. 

Xanthe ran to him first.  “Nori!”  She cried, jumping into his arms, nearly knocking the bent man off his balance.

“Easy there!”  the man chuckled, looking in awe at the beautiful young women before him.  “My, how you’ve sprouted up!  Ysenia, has it really been so long?”

Ysenia put down her bags.  “It has Uncle-- too long indeed.”  Ysenia picked up the old mans wrinkled hand and spoke sincerely, looking him in the eye.  “Thank you so much for allowing us to stay here while we look for quarters.  I don’t know what we would have done had you not offered.”

The old man smiled humbly and waved his hand at her, as if shooing away her compliments.  His grey eyes were sparkling with some sort of exciting secret.  “Think nothing of it.  You are family.  In hard times, families look after each other.  At least when I was young they did.  Of course, now a days…” 

Olihre tried to hide the smirk on his face as he turned around and scanned his surroundings.  Uncle Noradol would go on forever if you let him.  He hadn’t seen his great-uncle in fourteen years, not since he and his 2nd wife had been sent to Rohan to serve as horse trainers for Theoden’s army.  They had been sent as a gift from Dethenor, Steward of Gondor.  He was repaying Theoden for the many soldiers that had been lent as guards for his travels.

“Oli?” Olihre turned back around and saw everyone staring at him, including his scowling aunt who had joined the others in front of the house. 

“Sorry, ummm…what?”

Ysenia smiled, “Your uncle has invited you to his stables to see his latest charge.”

“Charge?  I suppose I wasn’t paying attention.  What is a charge, exactly?”

Noradol suppressed a chuckle and said simply, “Just a horse boy, the latest to be entrusted to me by King Eomer for training.”

At Eomer’s name, Olihre stiffened.  His smile reflected that stance and he took a deep breath.  “I’d love to see it Nori, but I think I should help Mum into the house with our things first, eh?”

Xanthe nodded her head in obvious approval.  She was actually somewhat offended that she had not been invited to see the horse, although she knew that in her great-uncle’s eyes she was just a little girl who would likely not care about such things.

Xanthe patted Olihre roughly on the shoulder.  “I’ll help you Oli, we’ll have everything settled in no time.  Then you can run off and play with the horses while I gossip with Mum and Auntie.”  This last sentence was said with a great deal of sarcasm, though nobody but Oli seemed to pick up on it.  He shot her a withering but humored look and started untying the bags from the horses. 

Xanthe picked up the bags that had set on the grass and proceeded to follow her mother inside.  She was surprised to note that the house was actually quite beautiful on the inside.  The walls were painted white, making the space appear bright and large.  The outside of the house was shingled in dark wood, and she had pictured a musty and dismal interior. 

“This way sweetheart,” her aunt said, motioning her up the narrow staircase. 

Xanthe smiled slightly.  Her aunt was a very strange woman.  She was so sweet at times, but she could also be the toughest, most stubborn woman you could ever have the mischance to stumble upon.  Xanthe wondered how she had ended up with her soft-spoken, mild-tempered great uncle.  ‘Likely because he was so lonely after poor Auntie Lahri died.’  Xanthe scolded herself for dwelling on such matters, and hurried after her Aunt down a short hallway. 

“Here’s the room you and your mother will share while you’re here.  Your brother will stay out in the loft above the stables.  There is a dresser in the room next door, as well as a bathtub and a washtub for your clothes.  Olihre can share those if he likes.    Water can be pumped from the well behind the house, but take care bringing it up the stairs; I don’t want my new rugs to be spoiled.”

With that her great-aunt left the room.  Xanthe raised her eyebrows and sighed a bit too loudly.

“What’s the matter?”  Ysenia had been standing in the hall listening to her aunt’s speech.  “You didn’t bring a quill to write all that down?”

Xanthe smiled, relieved that she hadn’t been scolded.  “I am just tired Mum.”

“Lie down then, sweetie.  Oli is finishing up with our things.  I am going to go talk with Auntie Corla.  I’ll come and get you when dinner is ready.”

Xanthe knew that she should help with dinner, but her body was too tired to argue.  She lay down on the small bed in the corner and rolled over to face the wall.  Despite her fatigue though, her eyes never did close.

*          *          *

 “Gav, do you know what happened to the gray stallion that I brought back from Mirkwood?”  Eomer had entered his friend’s study and was now taking a seat on the overstuffed ottoman in the corner.

Gaviwyr had been looking through property deeds when Eomer had entered.  He smiled at his friend, who seemed much more at ease than he had the previous night.  “I took him to Noradol to be trained.  Why?”

“Just that he is actually a wedding present to Eowyn and Faramir.”

“From Legolas?” Gaviwyr looked intrigued. 

Eomer rolled his eyes.  Gaviwyr had an unabashed fascination with Elves.  “Yes, from Legolas.  While he was in Gondor visiting Aragon he asked me to send a message to his father; he also asked me to fetch the horse for him.”

“Is he coming here to get it?” Gaviwyr asked hopefully.  He loved to speak with Legolas about all of his journeys.  It hadn’t even been a full two years ago, after the Great Battle where Lady Eowyn was injured, that he had the privilege of hearing Legolas sing a haunting song about battles and the loss of loved ones.  Gaviwyr had developed a profound respect for Legolas.

“No, I am taking it to him.  We will meet in Minas Tirith next week.  I wondered if you would come and keep me company?”  Eomer knew this would delight his friend, and he was relieved to have some way to repay him for his loyalty and friendship. 

Gaviwyr nearly jumped out of his seat.  “Eomer, need you ask?  You are not the only restless one here.”

Eomer clapped his hand together in a sign of finality and said, “Done!  We’ll leave after the army drills at the end of the week.  Meanwhile, should we leave the horse there, or should we bring him back here?”

Gaviwyr squinted his eyes as if trying to see the answer more clearly.  “Well, Noradol did say he had family arriving soon.  He would probably appreciate a bit of time to spend with them.  I’ll have him send it back as soon as he can.”

“Well done.  I’ve got a lot of preparing to do before we leave, so I’ll be off.”  With that, Eomer turned to leave, but stopped short and turned back around.  “Gav?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for speaking with me last night.  I feel much better.  I haven’t thought about the river incident all day…well, except for now, or course.”

Gaviwyr looked solemnly at his King.  “You’ll do well to forget it entirely.”  He then grinned playfully, “Plus, there are plenty of beautiful women here who would love to take your mind off of the matter.”

Eomer rolled his eyes.  In a way he felt that is experience at the river and his feelings about the girl were cheapened by the comment Gaviwyr had just made, but he knew that his friend meant well. 

“It isn’t like that, Gav.  I didn’t look at her as someone to court.  I think I was taken with her because she is someone I would like to be.  She was alone and strong;  self-willed and free.” Eomer let out a frustrated groan.  “I don’t know… there was just something about her that I wanted to experience for myself.  I am still not really sure what it was.”

Gaviwyr smiled.  “Well whatever it is, if I find you wearing a slip and bathing in a river, I shall be very upset!”  He knew that his friend was serious, but he felt that lightening the situation might be a good thing.

Eomer threw his head back and tried to hold in a laugh.  He knew that his friend understood.  “Not to worry.  I think Theoden would arise from his grave and bury me in it if he ever caught wind of that happening.”

 Chapter Five- Heavy Burdens

Xanthe lay silently, staring hopelessly at the wall.  Unbidden tears filled her eyes.  They hadn’t yet enough force to make there way down her cheek, so they stayed there, filling her eyes with a deep cover of water.  The old textured plaster on the wall began to look like a shiny yellow lake.  Soon enough the tears spilt over her tired eyelids where the blue covering of her pillow absorbed them.  I’m not crying, she told herself calmly.  Her muscles were relaxed.  No sound came from her throat.  My eyes just do this sometimes. 

At the thought of her absurd rationalities Xanthe began laughing, though it was no joyful sound.  There was a horribly pained intake of breath after each laugh.  Soon each laugh began to sound more like a sob.  And then her throat would not allow air to pass; only awful gasping sounds could come or go.  Her whole body shook-- she fought this by rocking back and forth in a repetitive motion.  Her eyes were shut tightly now, her hands, clenched into fists, covering them lightly.  She fought the urge to bite into her knuckles. 

Xanthe struggled this way for a few minutes, and then, as quickly as it had started, the episode died.  She now lay curled into a ball, her hands still clenched in front of her eyes, but her body lay limp.  Her breath came again, although quite labored.  Xanthe’s mind raced.  She was torn.  Her analytical side wanted to seek out every cause for her pain and find a cure for it, but in her weakness, she wanted to push it all away, not to think about it.  She knew that the answers were not easy.   

Rolling over onto her back, Xanthe stared up at the vaulted ceiling.  “Why?” She said aloud, though soft enough that the word sounded more like a sigh than a plea.  “Why can’t I be strong enough?”  Xanthe pulled the pillow out from under her head and hugged it tightly to her chest.  She closed her eyes and saw the face of her father.  He was smiling, though she saw worry in his eyes.  Xanthe knew that the worry was for her, and the guilt cut deeply into her heart. 

Olihre had been a splendid child.  He was born strong and mild-mannered.  He always made his parents proud and won respect from all who knew him.  Xanthe had tried to do the same.  She was also easy to get along with, though it didn’t seem to do much good.  She had lived a lonely life back in Gondor. 

Xanthe suffered from a childhood disease that had left her bed-ridden for almost four years.  While most girls of 11 would have been helping their mothers around the house, Xanthe was in bed, on doctor’s orders.  She knew that she had been a strain on her mother and father.  At times she would attempt to hide her pain, hoping to spare them from worry and stress.  When they would ask her how she felt she would smile right through the torment and lie.  These acts seldom worked however, her pain was much too obvious. 

Xanthe smiled as she remembered her only real joy during those years.  Olihre would spend hours in her room, often forsaking his friends and studies just to comfort her.  She felt selfish for keeping him there so much, but as she looked back on it, she felt in her heart that had he not been there, she would not have survived.  She wouldn’t have wanted to live, and in the end, her will, and her family’s love were the only thing that saved her. 

And saved she was.  She slowly began to beat the disease.  In time she was allowed to get up and move around the house.  Later she was allowed to go out into the yard, though only for short periods of time.  She would watch other children playing, and she would excitedly plan her return.  She imagined a group of children standing around her in a circle, smiling and telling her how brave she was, and how happy they were to see her again.  Xanthe felt bitterness in her heart now.  ‘What a fool I was.  I had few friends before my illness, I had no visitors during it, and I certainly hadn’t any admirers after it.’             

Five years after her illness had first shown itself, she was completely recovered.  Her limbs were no longer useless, her lungs devoured the fresh air, and her heart beat strongly.  She was the model of a healthy young woman, and yet those stormy green eyes never did fully regain their shine.  They were dull and sad.  Many noticed this, though nobody mentioned it.  It was a wonder that Xanthe was alive, and they dared not dwell upon darker things.

Xanthe sat up in bed.  Outside the sun was making its way west, and the first hues of orange were appearing against the darkening sky.  She had always been able to find beauty in simple things.  Being confined to a bed as a child and having nothing but a window as a connection to the outside world, she had learned to see things very differently than some. 

She sat now, looking out the window, admiring the solace that the land held.  She felt ashamed for having allowed her self-pity to take over.  She knew that she was luckier than most who had contracted the disease during its peak of power.  Most had died.   

And yet, throughout all of these factual realizations, Xanthe still felt uneasy.  Buried deep inside of her was an almost frantic need for friendship.  Before her illness, she had been a quiet, shy little girl.  She preferred to stay in with her mother rather than go out with Oli and play.  Her mother had always hoped that as she matured she would break away from her doubts and make friends more easily. 

But then she fell sick.  During those years Xanthe knew none but her family and their closest friends.  When Xanthe became well again, she would go out into the yard and stand there, hoping to be approached by the others.  Olihre would often be the mediator who involved her in things, but it was never the way it should have been.  She was different, and everybody knew it.  Her disease may as well have covered her in scars, for that is how she was treated.  People tiptoed around her, taking care not to stare, but never intentionally including her in any conversation or activity. 

Xanthe had not been very diligent in pursuing friends.  At the first sign of rejection, she had returned to her mother’s side.  Olihre had tried to get her involved, but even all these years after her initial attempt at socializing, Xanthe was terrified at the thought of being dismissed.  She instead became complacent and dealt with her solitary life.  She spent a great deal of time with her mother and father, and her demeanor reflected it.  Slowly but surely however, her life began to seem normal, happy even. 

And then tragedy struck.  When Xanthe’s father had died, her world, which was finally beginning to settle, was melted into a mess of tears, blood, anger and fear.  She could no longer be strong for her family.  She retreated into her mind where not one living soul knew her thoughts.  Slowly, over the past few years, her family began to recover.  Oli resumed his usual activities, though his confidence seemed shaken.  Ysenia stopped going to the door every night, waiting for her husband to come home.  Xanthe had regained her outer shell and was the strength of her family once more, but inside she never healed.  Olihre was able to comfort her some, but he didn’t understand the depth of her need. 

Xanthe’s longing to be loved was outweighed only by her fear of being unwanted.  She was ashamed to admit it, but in the past day, as she thought more about the man at the river, she was actually more intrigued than upset.  He, unlike any other being in the world, had seen her with her guard down.  He had stayed and watched her.  That was the closest Xanthe had come to being admired in her entire life, and she was strangely excited by it.

“Maybe I should always bath in public,” Xanthe said wryly, turning back to look out the window. 

“What in the world are you talking about?” Olihre had just poked his head around the doorframe.  Before waiting for an answer he continued, “Mum has dinner ready…but if you’d rather I draw you a bath…”

“You’re hilarious.” Xanthe said dryly, getting up off the bed and trying not to make eye contact.  She was not worried about being overheard.  Oli was used to her strange moods by now.  He would not guess her guilty secret.  Not in another age of a world.

 Chapter Six- Similar Individuals

The gray stallion stood in his stall twitching his tail in anticipation.  He had been fed early that morning, groomed, bridled, and then saddled.  The stallion knew he would be on the move soon, and he was impatiently stomping his hoofs lightly on the ground.

“Easy Master Stallion! You’ve been pent up too long I take it?” Noradol had opened the stall gate and the horse backed out quickly, not waiting for its trainer to take the reigns.  Noradol hurried up beside the horse and patted it gently.  “You’re on your way back to the King!”

The horse was led outside and brought up along side the house.  Noradol hobbled up the steps, opened the screen door, and called to his wife.  “Corla!  Send Olihre out m’dear!  I have an errand for him!” 

 Noradol stepped back as his wife walked swiftly to the door.  “Oli’s gone to the stone masons’ for some instruction on glazin’.  What is it you need him for?”

“Well, I was going to have him return the stallion, but I guess I’ll do it me’self.”

Ysenia had been in the kitchen when Corla had been called.  She stepped out onto the porch.  “How far does the horse need to go?”

“Only to the Big House,” Noradol said, referring to the Kings home.  “It’s no more than split hour’s ride from here.”

“Why don’t you send Xanthe, I think she could use the distraction.”  Inwardly, Ysenia worried about sending her daughter off in a land she was not familiar with, but she knew that if she didn’t give her room, she would never grow.

“Can she handle a horse?  This one’s a bit testy…she may be too fragile for the likes of ‘im.”

Ysenia smiled proudly, “Xanthe is strong, despite her many trials, or maybe because of them.  Either way, she can handle it, I promise.”

“Go get her then,” Noradol said with exaggerated resignation. 

Xanthe was shining her aunt’s silver when her mother flew up the stairs, out of breath, a broad smile on her face.  “Xan, how long has it been since you rode an actual horse?”

Xanthe looked confused, but humored her beautiful mother.  “Well…not since Olihre brought his friends’ horse over for tending last winter.  Why?”

Ysenia raised her eyebrows in a look of excitement and replied, “There’s a gray stallion down there that needs to be returned to the King’s stables before nightfall.  Olihre is nowhere to be found, and Nori suggested you go instead.”

“Nori suggested me?  Hmmm…curious.  In the week that I’ve been here, Nori hasn’t once asked me into the stable.  How much convincing did you have to do?”  Xanthe’s tone was cynical, but she was already up, hurriedly putting on her boots and cloak.

Ysenia took a clip out of her own hair, allowing it to fall into disarray around her shoulders.  While Xanthe laced her boots, Ysenia pulled her daughters golden locks into a secure chignon, allowing a few wisps to be free, falling lightly around her face. 

Xanthe stood up and hugged her mother.  “Thanks Mum, I needed a reason to get out for a while!”

“I know you did.  You’ve seemed a bit down.  I hope this trip hasn’t been too much for you…” 

“I’m fine Mum, really.  I’ll settle.  We all will.”

Xanthe headed down the stairs with her mother close on her heels.  Ysenia prattled on after her. “Nori says that the road goes straight to the stables.  It shouldn’t take long, but you will be leading another horse for your return trip.  Go as fast as you can, I don’t want you out after dark.”

Xanthe was on the porch now.  She turned around and grasped her mothers’ hand comfortingly.  “Do you want to come with me Mum?”

Ysenia knew that Xanthe would rather go alone, and she winced as she thought of how sore she was from all the mule riding they had done in the last month.  “No thanks dear, you’ll do fine on your own.  Just hurry back, eh love?”

“I will.”  Xanthe joined her uncle and he helped her into the saddle atop the massive stallion.  “Tell Gaviwyr, the King’s Captain, that we are ready to receive more horses whenever he has some to send.”

“Sure Nori, I’ll tell him.”  She smiled and tapped the horses’ flanks with her heel.  As she rode off she called over her shoulder, “I’ll be back for dinner.”

*          *          *

Xanthe rode at a steady pace; she was in no hurry to arrive anywhere.  The stallion alternated its graceful legs with ease, the brown mare following closely behind.  Xanthe marveled at everything around her.  The air in Rohan smelled like wet earth, and when the breeze blew, it smelled like honeysuckle.  She smiled at those she passed on the road, and nodded politely at people as she passed houses and shops.  Her heart would jump every now and then whenever she passed people her own age.  She tried to seem confident, but inside she wondered what they thought of her, or if they even noticed her. 

The cobbled road wound ever uphill, and soon enough Xanthe saw the great dwelling of Meduseld in the distance.  She recounted her directions, remembering that she was to go to the stables and then send a servant to fetch the Kings’ Captain.  When she arrived outside of the stable doors, she dismounted and un-tethered the mare from the stallion’s saddle.  She was greeted by a dark-haired youth who nervously took the horses reigns and led it into the stables.  Xanthe was not sure what she was to do, so she stood awkwardly outside of the doors.  A minute later, the youth poked his head back out the doors and without making eye contact, mumbled, “I’ll get the Captain-- come in or wait here.”   

“I’ll wait here, thank you.”  Xanthe wasn’t sure why the boy seemed so nervous, but it was making her a bit uneasy.  The boy ran off towards the house while Xanthe made her way into the stable.  She sat lightly on a large pile of hay, situating her green dress around her modestly.  The hay smelled pungent, and there was already a pronounced indentation in it, making it quite comfortable.  “Well I guess I have stumbled across his perch,” she said aloud, thinking that the indentation must be where the boy rested when he had nothing else to do. 

*          *          *

Gaviwyr was in the infirmary, arguing with the healer about what supplies they needed to take with them on their journey to Minas Tirith.  “We certainly don’t need to bring an entire bushel of grosli, the herb is only used for burns after all.”

The healer was looking very perturbed when he glanced out the door and saw Eomer approaching down the hallway.  “Why don’t we ask the King then,” he sneered as he turned to meet Eomer.  “My Liege,” he said with a slight bow, “Your Captain seems to think that wounds heal themselves, and he refuses to pack what is needed.”

Eomer smiled openly at Gaviwyr.  He heard an indignant sniff from behind and turned to face the healer.  “Puchen, I think Gav is just trying to lighten our load.  The trip will be long and tiresome.”

“The horses will be doing the carrying, am I right?  Since when could horses not bear the weight of herbs?”

Eomer was a bit annoyed now.  “We are taking no pack horses, only the stallion, and we will not have him on the way back.  Would you have us leave your precious herbs with the Elves?” 

Puchen’s face went red.  Eomer knew that he did not like elves.  “Your Highness, please forgive my bluntness,” Puchen was making a valiant effort to hide his obvious anger.  “I think you would do better to find yourself a healer who is comfortable with this new lifestyle that you have brought to Edoras.  I will stay only until you find a replacement.”

Eomer was shocked, though he did admire the healers’ courage.  “I will be sorry to see you go,” he fibbed.  “Be assured you will be taken care of for as long as you reside in Rohan.”

Puchen bowed, very low this time.  “Thank you Lord.”  He left quickly, leaving Gaviwyr and Eomer staring at each other, trying to stifle wondering looks, and incredulous chuckles.

Gaviwyr spoke first.  “Well, it looks like we need to find a new healer.  One who likes Elves and other sorts of riff-raff that you have brought upon us!”

Eomer burst out laughing, stopping only when he saw his stable hand poking his head around the corner.  “Larn, what is it lad?”

The boy entered and facing Gaviwyr whispered, “The stallion has been brought back sir.”

Gaviwyr looked at Eomer devilishly and then turned back to the boy.  He whispered, “That is wonderful, but why are we whispering?”          

The boy blushed and in a slightly louder voice he croaked, “It’s a girl!”

“What in Eru’s name are you talking about Larn?  What is a girl?  The horse?”

Larn looked flustered.  “No!  The rider.  Noradol has sent a girl with the horse.”

Eomer joined, “Funny, I don’t remember it being illegal for a girl to ride a horse; have I missed something?”

Larn looked truly frustrated now.  “No, but this one is, well…young, and I’ve never seen her.”

“Is she younger than you?” Eomer queried, trying to imagine a small girl atop the large stallion.

Ignoring the King, the boy turned to Gaviwyr and said, “Just come out-- please.  She is waiting for you.”  With than he turned and ran back to the stable.

Eomer looked sidelong at his friend.  Gaviwyr just smiled his cocky smile and said, “Would you like to come with me and see what is so fascinating about a girl riding a horse?”

Eomer shook his head.  “Little girls on horses don’t really interest me.”

Gaviwyr nodded but said poignantly, “It’s probably Noradol’s niece; you remember I told you he was having family stay with him?”

“Yes?” Eomer said expectantly.

“Well, I just think that it might be nice for you to introduce yourself-- they are after all new citizens here.”

“Of course,” Eomer said. 

*          *          *

Xanthe jumped when the boy reentered the stable.  When she didn’t see anyone with the boy, she turned to ask him what she was to do, but the boy had already climbed the ladder into the loft and was gone.  Xanthe rolled her eyes before she sat back in the hay and waited.  Soon enough she heard voices outside the stable.  She stood up and was brushing hay off of her skirt when two men entered.  “Hello,” she said nervously, still trying to smooth out her skirt.  “I…I brought you your horse.”  She wasn’t sure which man was the King and which was the Captain, so she looked at them both.  What she saw made her frown.

Both men were standing still, eyes wide and lips parted in half-expression.  The man on the right looked like he had just been hit with a tree-branch while the one on the left was grinning strangely.  Xanthe was uncomfortable and she showed it.  Glancing nervously from one to another she shifted her weight and started to take small steps backwards.

Gaviwyr realized that they were being rude and he stepped forward, trying to regain his wits.  “I am sorry m’lady.  It’s just that the boy said you were a little girl…I suppose that is what we were expecting.”  Gaviwyr glanced at Eomer and was shocked to see that his friend had not recovered so quickly.  “Eomer, er…Your Highness, are you quite alright?”

Eomer couldn’t speak.  He couldn’t even blink.  Standing in front of him was the girl from the river.  A wave of emotions overtook him- he felt guilty, curious, excited and scared all at once.  He cleared his throat and looked down at the dirt floor.  “Yes, sorry.  We were uh…expecting something else.”  He still did not look up into the girls’ eyes, but stared rather at the hem of her brilliant green dress.

Xanthe was not quite sure how she felt about these answers.  “A little girl?” she said softly, but with a kindly smile.  She addressed the King, though he seemed to be fascinated with something on the floor. 

Gaviwyr took a deep breath and said, “No matter.  You must be Noradol’s niece?”

Xanthe took a step forward holding out her hand, as was custom.  “Yes, I am…that is, my name is Xanthe.”  Gaviwyr took her hand and kissed it formally, turning to the King.

Eomer knew he could not continue avoiding the girls’ eyes, so he looked up, took her hand, kissed it quickly, and then said what he meant least in the world, “I’ve got much to do.  Gav, you’ll see to the horse, won’t you?”           

Gaviwyr nodded cautiously, “Of course.”

Eomer’s body and mind kept right on going while his heart froze in fear and confusion.  “It was a pleasure meeting you.”  He said this last bit, glancing up into her eyes with an intensity that all in the room noticed.

Xanthe felt her face growing warm and she glanced up into the loft, wishing she could be up there in the dark, even if she had to share it with a curt little boy.  “Likewise Your Majesty,” she nearly whispered.

Gaviwyr peered at his friend with his face screwed up into a look of utter disbelief.  What has gotten into him?  He had never seen Eomer act like this, and the King was a man of many strange dispositions.

Eomer left and Gaviwyr turned to Xanthe apologetically.  “He is a little bit overwhelmed right now.  We are planning for a trip and we just lost our healer, who was to go with us.”

Xanthe’s eyes lit up.  “I’m a healer!” She said excitedly, surprised at her own courage.  “That is, I spent a lot of time inside when I was younger, and I have learned everything there is to know.”

“Whom did you learn from?”

Xanthe wanted to tell him it was from her physician, but she hesitated, not wanting to come off as weak or sick.  “A friend of my family.  He would come and sit with me and teach me all he knew.  I suppose I was a bored little girl.”

Gaviwyr smiled.  This girl was refreshing.  She seemed innocent but full of life.  “Well, I am not the one who makes such decisions, the King is.  Why don’t I speak with him in the morning and than I will send word to you at your Uncle’s.  Is that acceptable?”

Xanthe was ecstatic.  “Yes!” she said eagerly.  “Thank you!”

“Surely,” Gaviwyr replied, trying not to let her enthusiasm affect him.  “Now, it is starting to grow dim outside.  Will you need an escort back to your Uncle’s?”

Xanthe glanced worriedly out the door.  Her mother would be expecting her any minute and it was still a twenty-minute gallop home.  “No, I’ll be fine, but I should be off.  Thank you again!”

Gaviwyr looked on as the girl gathered her skirt and rushed out.  She mounted the horse gracefully, riding straddle rather than side-saddle.  Looking back one more time, her dark green eyes sparkling, she rode off.   

Chapter Seven- The Trouble with Brothers

“You let her go where?” Olihre shouted, pacing the room furiously with one hand on his hip and the other rubbing his forehead.

“Settle down boy!  She is returning a horse to the Captain of the Guard-- she’ll be back any minute now.”  Noradol was looking at Olihre with sheer exasperation.  When he had come home from the stonemason’s and heard that Xanthe had gone on an errand, he had become nearly hysterical.  Noradol suspected that he was upset at having missed the opportunity to visit the Great Hall.

“When did she leave?” Olihre demanded.

“Not quite three hours ago, why?” Noradol was fairly annoyed at the immaturity that Olihre was showing.

Olihre did not want to tell his Uncle about his run-in with the King, knowing that it would cause nothing but trouble.  He worried though, that his sister was as well off as a child wandering into a den of Orcs.  “I’m worried about her being alone, Uncle.  She hasn’t much experience at all with the outside world.”

Noradol glanced up the stairs towards Ysenia’s room. “Surely your Mother wouldn’t have allowed her to go if she didn’t think your sister could handle it.  Besides lad, the stables aren’t far from here-- no more than a half hour’s ride anyway.”

Olihre was beginning to panic.  “A half hour?  But she left three hours ago!  What is keeping her?”  Even as he stated the question he knew the answer.  The King of the Mark had surely waylaid her.  Before Noradol had a chance to intervene, Olihre was racing out the front door and heading towards their stable.  He would have gone for one of their mules had this not been an emergency, but due to the nature of the situation, he jumped bareback onto the first horse he saw and raced out of the stables.

Noradol was on the front porch looking after him, with Ysenia joining him quickly.  “I’m going to look for her!” he called to them, not waiting to hear a reply.

*          *          *

Xanthe was riding as quickly as she could without bouncing herself right off the mare.  She knew that she had stayed longer than her Uncle had intended and she was worried that her mother would be upset.  She could see only a few yards ahead of her as she raced through the twilight, keeping her head down to minimize the cold wind in her face.  She had passed a few travelers on the road, all of who had regarded her with minimal curiosity.  She had eventually stopped making eye contact, tired of feeling the need to explain herself.

She rode now, her thighs growing numb as they gripped the horses’ sides tightly.  She was beginning to doze off a bit when she suddenly became aware of another horse galloping towards her, not far off.  Lifting her head in order to steer her horse clear of the other rider, she heard, “Xan, is that you?”

Xanthe squinted her eyes and peered hard to see through the dimly lit air.  Leaning forward upon a great black stallion, hair blown every which way, eyes wide open and brow creased in determination, was Olihre.  He was looking at her with a mixture of relief and anger.  “Oli!  What are you doing here?”

“Xan!  Are you okay?” Olihre begged as he jumped off his mount and ran to her horse.

“I’m fine Oli!  What’s the matter?  What’s wrong?” Xanthe was afraid that something had happened back at her Uncles house.

“You tell me!” Olihre shouted, beginning to feel annoyed that his big rescue was being regarded so apathetically.  “What has taken you so long?”

“Uncle Noradol wanted me to wait until the Captain could come and receive a message from him.  Gaviwyr was tied up with the King and it took them a while to get to the stables.  Why are you so worried?”

“Them?  The King came to see you?” Olihre questioned without much candor. 

“Yes,” Xanthe hesitated, remembering Eomer’s odd behavior, “but Oli the most wonderful thing has happened!  Gaviwyr, the Captain, he told me that the King has need of a new healer!  Can you believe it?”

Olihre threw his head back in frustration, “Of course he does!  How did the King know that you are a healer?”

“Well, actually, he doesn’t.  It was Gaviwyr who I told.  He is going to tell the King tomorrow morning and then send me word shortly.  Why?  What’s wrong?”

Olihre was debating whether he should expose the King as the man from the river.  He hadn’t wanted to do it before because he didn’t want his sister to be afraid.  However now he was thinking that fear may be the only thing that would keep her a safe distance from the King.

“Oli?” Xanthe was watching her brother puzzle over something.  “What is it?”

“Xan, when you were at the river that night…” Olihre hesitated.

“Yes?” Xanthe felt a strange tinge of excitement at the mention of the mysterious man.

“When I confronted the man who was watching you…” Olihre was having a hard time saying what he meant to say.

“Oli, what!”

Olihre let out a dramatic sigh.  “I just worry about you more now, that’s all!”

Xanthe smiled.  “Oli, I’m fine, really-- though I do appreciate your concern.”

Oli smile ruefully. “You shouldn’t have gone off by yourself.  You don’t know this land.”

Xanthe rolled her eyes playfully.  “Honestly Oli!  These are farmers and housewives.  Have you looked around much?  This isn’t exactly Gondor.”  Xanthe noticed Oli giving her a withering look.  “Besides, I’ve had the King’s people surrounding me for most of the past two hours.”

That’s what I am afraid of! Olihre thought to himself.  “Just be careful Xan.” Olihre said, trying to think of some way to tell his hopeful sister that she couldn’t work for the King, without giving away his secret.

Xanthe meanwhile was remounting her horse and preparing to set off again.  “Come on Oli.  Let’s get back before Mum goes mad.”  With that, Xanthe began an easy trot back down the road. 

Olihre jumped on his horse and caught up with her, bringing his stallion along side the mare.  Both horse whinnied nervously and reared their heads.  Olihre held tight to his reigns and brought the horses even closer together.

“Oli, what are you doing?  My mare doesn’t like being so close to that stallion, you know how it works!”

Oli backed off a bit, but still maintained a close stride.  He cleared his throat and said, “Look Xan, I really don’t think you should be a healer for the King.”

Xanthe was shocked.  The thought of working as a healer at all brought joy to her heart, and being in such an honored position as Palace Healer was simply a dream come true.  “What are you talking about?  This is a wonderful opportunity!  Do you know how long I have waited for this day?”

Olihre lowered his a voice a bit and tried to be calm.  “I…I just think that it would be hard for…for Mum.  She would miss you.  She is used to having you around.  She’ll probably need your help with the business.”

Xanthe couldn’t understand what had come over her brother.  He was the one who was always encouraging her to move on and do something with her life.  She thought that he had at least some understanding of her loneliness.  “Oli, you’re going to be there.  You have always wanted to run the business.  Mum has never needed my help with anything before.”

Oli knew he was scrambling a bit.  “But Xan…once we find a residence there will be upkeep and maintenance and all sorts of other things to fill my time.  And Mum will need your help with household duties.”  Olihre felt horrible.  He knew that he was putting too much pressure on his sister.

“But Mum said she wanted me to find work as a healer.  It will bring in extra income, and it will secure our place in the community.”  Xanthe was beginning to pout now.  She knew that she should be strong and accept the advice of her older brother, but she had finally found something that made her feel happy.  “Mum’s been asking me all week when I planned to go out and seek opportunities.”

Olihre really hated to do what he knew was coming next.  “Of course she would tell you that, she doesn’t want to upset you.  But Xan, I heard her talking to Auntie, and she said she was feeling overwhelmed-- you know, not sure how she’s going to manage everything.  Of course she would sooner die than tell you that.  You know Mum…she’ll never admit defeat.

Xanthe felt sick.  “Oli, I didn’t know,” she said softly.  “Of course I’ll help her.  I can always find a position somewhere else, once everything is settled.”

Olihre felt truly horrible now.  He knew his mother wanted more than anything else for Xanthe to become involved in something.  “I’m sorry Xan.  I’m sure once everything starts running smoothly you’ll have time for other things.”

Xanthe nodded in resignation as her horse continued its nervous trot.

*          *          *

Back at the house the mood was tense.  Ysenia had greeted her children at the door, happy to see that Xanthe was safe, but more curious than anything at why Olihre had thrown such a fit earlier.  As soon as Xanthe and Olihre had returned the horses, they made their way back to the house, their expressions rather downcast.  They were now all sitting at the dinner table, picking at their food, not saying anything.

Ysenia broke the silence.  “Xanthe, how was your ride?”

Xanthe didn’t feel like talking.  “Fine.  Nothing happened.  It was fine.”

Ysenia bit her lip and looked around.  Olihre had his head resting on one hand and was slowly chewing a bit of bread.  “Oli, how was yours?”

Olihre looked up hesitantly.  His head hurt from all of the different lies that were swarming around.  “It was fine once I knew that Xan was safe.” 

“Well, that was very sweet of you to look out for your sister.”  Ysenia sighed and looked back down at her plate.

It was Aunt Corla who finally put an end to the awkward conversation.  “Oh come on, all of you!  You look as if you’ve stubbed your toes on a noonday troll!  Your Uncle Nori and I have some good news for you!”

With that Nori stood and began rubbing his hands together with a smile on his face.  “Well, as you can plainly see, your Aunt and I are not as sprightly as we once were.  I’ve been having more trouble than ever getting those giant beasts to obey me, and Corla’s had it up to here with my complaining,” Nori held his arms high up over his head. 

Corla interrupted, “What Nori’s trying to say is, well…we were hoping that maybe you would like to come into a living arrangement with us.”

Ysenia gasped.  “Corla…Nori, we, we couldn’t!  We have already imposed enough as it is…”

“Nonsense,” Noradol broke in.  “I could use Olihre’s help with the horses, and with Corla doing her usual duties, you would have plenty of time for your pottery.”  Noradol searched out Xanthe’s eyes.  “That would leave Xanthe free to look for a healer’s position.  I don’t see how we could have found a better situation!”

Ysenia cocked her head and looked apprehensive.  “Nori, I don’t see how WE could have found a better situation,” she said looking at her children, “but you and Corla have always done fine on your own.  I fear it is you making the sacrifice and we who are benefiting from it.”

Corla let out an exasperated ‘humf’.  “Dear, must you be so stubborn?  Nori really is getting too tired to deal with those horses, and the King has been suggesting that he takes on an apprentice.  Besides, I have been bored out of my wits here.  It has been such a treat having you here with me.”  Corla looked around, challenging anyone to argue with her.  When nobody did, she clapped her hands together and proclaimed, “It’s settled then.  Xanthe, you will start looking for positions tomorrow!”

Xanthe’s eyes lit up.  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  She would be able to take the position after all, that is, if it was offered to her.  She sought out Oli’s eyes, but he had his head down and was not looking jovial.  ‘No matter!’ she thought.  ‘With Auntie Corla here, Mum will have more help than she’ll know what to do with!’

“Well I must say, it sure is nice to see you smiling Xan.” Ysenia was stroking her daughters’ hair.  “Now, if only you could teach Oli how to do it…” She was interrupted by Xanthe’s laughing.

“Mum, let him be!” She chuckled.  “He’s had a long day.”

Olihre looked at his sister.  He was happy to see a smile on her face, and even happier to be relieved if his lie, but he now had to find some other way of stopping her from associating with the King.

“May I be excused?” Olihre stood and retreated for the door.  I’m going to turn in early; I have some errands to run in the morning.”

“Errands?” Noradol said doubtfully. 

“Personal matters.” Olihre stated bluntly.  As he climbed the ladder into the loft, he wondered how he was going to manage confronting the King without getting himself killed.  “It is for Xanthe’s honor,” he said aloud.  “The King will listen or he will die.  There are no other options.”

Chapter Eight- And So It Begins

As he watched Noradol’s niece ride away, Gaviwyr’s head spun in pool of jumbled thoughts.  First and foremost he wondered what could possibly be wrong with his friend.  Back in the palace Eomer had seemed just fine, but as soon as they entered the barn, he acted as if he had seen a Wraith.  Aside from his concern for the King, he felt slightly threatened as well.  He was sure that Eomer, even in his horrified state, could not have helped but notice how striking Xanthe was, and for some reason that bothered Gaviwyr a bit.  This woman had fire to her!  She wasn’t like every other prim and proper porcelain doll that he had met in his endeavors.  She had even mounted the horse herself and ridden it as a man would, without the slightest hesitation.

You fool, Gaviwyr scolded himself, obviously he has some interest in her.  Gaviwyr set his jaw and nodded reassuringly.  Don’t get mixed up in this, nothing good can come of it-- just be his friend.  With that thought, Gaviwyr ran back to the palace and sought out Eomer, whom he found in the study, going through papers.

“What are you doing?”

“I am looking at our options for a new healer.  We must have one chosen by tomorrow if they are to be prepared to leave with us on our journey at the end of this week.”       

Gaviwyr felt rather pleased with himself as he took the papers out of Eomer’s hands and threw them triumphantly into a pile on the desk.  “Look no further.  I think I have a suggestion that you will be more than pleased with.”

Eomer was still rather shaken and really wasn’t in the mood for any deviations from normal procedure.  “Who, Gav?  We only just found out that Puchen is leaving.”

 Gaviwyr smiled mischievously and walked in a slow, dramatic circle around his friend.  “Well, she has quite a bit of experience despite her relatively young age.  She is skilled on a horse, so traveling long-distances shouldn’t be a problem.  We know her family, so we know she can be trusted.  Oh, and she isn’t too bad to look at either!”

Eomer felt all of the blood drain from his face.  “Oh no…you didn’t!”

Gaviwyr was shocked at his friend’s reaction.  He had expected an enormous smile and maybe even one of Eomer’s trademark rib-bruising hugs, but instead, he looked like he was about to be ill.  “Eomer!  Honestly, what in the world in wrong with you?  First in the barn, and now here…she’s just a girl after all!”

Eomer shook his head violently and sat down hard upon a stool.  “Gav,” he choked, “you remember my unfortunate experience at the river…?”

Gaviwyr tried not to smile, but the situation was entirely too strange for a straight face.  “You’re not serious!”

Eomer glared at Gaviwyr.  “This is NOT funny, and yes, I am serious!”

Gaviwyr pulled his face back into a neutral expression.  “Eomer, I’m sorry.  Of course it is not funny.  I guess…I just don’t know what to say.”

Eomer just hunched over with his head in his hands. 

Gaviwyr’s eyes darted about the room as he searched for something to say.  “Well…she didn’t say anything to me, and she didn’t act strangely.  I am sure she doesn’t know, so what’s the harm?  If she doesn’t know, than it is as if it never happened.”

“Her brother knows!  I am surprised that he didn’t tell her, but regardless, I am sure we will run into him at some point.  There is no way she can be our healer.  Having her in Edoras is bad enough, but seeing her everyday would be unbearable.”

“But why unbearable?  You said yourself that there was something about her that you couldn’t get away from.  If you have her near, you can figure it out.  You wouldn’t have to be bothered by it anymore.”

“But she’ll find out at some point what happened!  You know she will.  Maybe her brother hasn’t told her yet, but do you really think he would let her work here without knowing?”

“Eomer, we both know that your intentions were pure at the river.  It was an accident.  She would understand-- I know she would.  I have spoken to her…this girl…she’s different.”

Eomer was surprised at the intensity her felt in Gaviwyr’s voice.  Had Gaviwyr too fallen to the girl’s mystery?  Eomer would not be at all surprised.  She was after all strikingly beautiful, and there was something else about her, something he couldn’t define, but yearned to discover.  He smiled knowingly at his friend.  “Maybe I should talk to her before anyone else does.  What do you think?”

“Definitely.  Anyway, aside from all of these issues, we do after all need a healer, don’t we?”         

Eomer knew Gaviwyr was right.  He couldn’t avoid this girl or her family forever.  He needed to face the situation and deal with whatever consequences came.  “What did she say her name was?”

Gaviwyr raised his eyebrows playfully, but felt a slight twinge in his heart.  “Xanthe.  Golden-haired beauty, it means.”

*          *          *

Olihre was up early that morning.  He had fed the horses and then mounted his Uncle’s brown mare.  As he rode out of the stables, he saw a messenger on horse-back riding up the lane.  The messenger called out to him as he neared.  “Aye there!  I’m looking for a young miss, Xanthe’s her name.”

Olihre narrowed his eyes at the man and demanded, “Who sent you?”

“I’ve a summons from the King ‘imself.  Where can I find the girl?”  The messenger sat proudly upon his horse, his soft brown eyes twinkling with dignity.

Olihre was about to tell the messenger where he could go, when the front door flew open and Xanthe ran out.  “Are you from Meduseld?” She had been waiting in the kitchen since dawn, anticipating the message that Gaviwyr had promised. 

“I am.  You’re Xanthe then, I suppose?”

Xanthe started to answer when Olihre interrupted her.  “Xanthe, go inside!  I’ll see to this!”

“Now look ‘ere lad, the King asked that I deliver the message to the lady ‘erself!”

Olihre snapped his head around and shouted at the messenger.  “I’ll not send my sister to that Orc!”

The messenger was now as furious as Olihre was.  He drew his sword and advanced slowly towards Olihre.  “I’ll not ‘ave you speaking against King Eomer!”

Olihre backed his horse up and turned to shout at Xanthe.  “Stay here!!!”  With that he kicked his steed and rode off madly. 

The messenger turned to follow, but Xanthe called after him.  “Wait, do you have the summons?”  The messenger steered his horse back towards a very confused looking young woman.  “I ‘ave it here.”  He handed the parchment to Xanthe and then turned his horse to ride after Olihre.  Xanthe unrolled the paper and read:

“Dear Miss, 

It has been requested that you join the King and his advisors this noon for a luncheon.  The possibility of your employment shall therein be discussed.  Please arrive at the front guard.  If you decline, please send word with our messenger.”

Sincerely, Gaviwyr, Captain of the King’s Guard

Despite the outrageous circumstances that had just occurred, Xanthe’s heart leapt.  She gave a subdued cry of delight and hugged the paper to her chest, smiling sarcastically when she realized that even if she had declined, the messenger certainly hadn’t stayed around long enough to find out.  Peering down the road, Xanthe made a silent plea to the Valar.  She hoped Olihre would be alright, though she had no idea why he had behaved the way he had.  Rolling the parchment back up Xanthe shook her head.  She certainly had no intention of staying away from the Palace.  She had just under three hours to prepare, and she wanted to look proper, so she ran upstairs to bath and change.

*          *          *

Olihre had a good start on the messenger, thanks to his sister’s unintentional intervention.  He rode the brown mare at breakneck speeds, veering off the road and cutting through the fields.  He received many angry glares as he cut across property, and almost as many angry shouts. 

After riding hard for some time and not seeing any sign of the messenger, Olihre veered back towards the road, not wishing to injure his Uncle’s horse.  As he neared the Palace, he slowed to a paced canter, being careful not to alert the attention of any guards he passed on the way.  Olihre dismounted at the steps and left his mare standing there, panting and tossing its head with annoyance.  As he climbed the steps he looked nervously at the armed guards.  They eyed him with suspicion and stopped him at the oak double-doors.

“What business have ye?”  A large blonde haired man stood in front of him with his hand on the hilt of his sword. 

Olihre had been thinking hard on his way here.  Should he storm the Palace and take his chances with all of the guards or should he lay down his arms and enter on behalf of his sister?  Olihre hated to admit it, but he knew he would never survive if he tried to enter armed.  “I am here on behalf of a summons from the King to my sister, Xanthe.”

The guard looked at Olihre, who held his sword out for him to take.  He stepped aside to let him enter, when they heard shouting from down the road.

“Don’t let him in!  Val, don’t let him in!”  The messenger was bouncing hard upon his horse as he raced towards the doors.  As soon as he neared he dismounted and ran up the steps.  “This boy was not summoned, his sister was!  He has spoken against our King!”

The guard put his hand on Olihre’s chest and backed him up against the wall.  “Go get Gaviwyr!” he shouted at the messenger.

Olihre glared at the guard and tried to sidestep the hold, but the guard only pushed harder, his hand on the hilt of his sword the whole time.

Gaviwyr soon arrived in the massive doorway, his jaw set in a tight square.  “What business do you have with the King that you couldn’t have sent with my messenger?”  In reality, Gaviwyr knew exactly what he was doing there, but he would not justify the boys’ behavior. 

“The King has sent for my sister-- I have merely come to explain why she will be unable to work for him.”

“Liar!” The messenger shouted.  “You called him an Orc!”

Gaviwyr tried not to smile at this accusation.  He could certainly understand the boys’ anger, but he could not have him rushing into the King’s Court, with all of the advisors about, hearing Eomer’s personal business.  He raised his hand to the guard in the sign of release.  “I’ll take him from here.  Thank you Mehgri, you have performed valiantly.”  He clasped the messenger’s hand and shook it with respect.

Olihre scowled as Gaviwyr took his arm and led him down the dim hallway.  Gaviwyr did not glance at him, but led him into a room furnished with plush chairs.  “Boy, I know why you are here; the King expected you might come.  I will go get him.  If you know what is good for you, you’ll be here when we get back.”

“I came here to see the coward, didn’t I?”  Olihre stared Gaviwyr fiercely in the eyes. 

Gaviwyr tensed from head to boot and raised his hand at the boy.  “If you ever call Eomer such names again, you will never walk again, do you understand me?”

Olihre didn’t answer-- he just narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms defiantly. 

Gaviwyr took another step towards him.  “Did you hear me?” he shouted loudly. 

Olihre swallowed hard and uttered icily, “I heard you.”

Gaviwyr stepped back quickly, his robes swirling around his long legs.  He exited quickly, taking one last look at the boy, shooting him a warning glance. 

Olihre looked around, studying his surroundings.  His face lit up when he observed the furnishings of the room.  “What fools!” he laughed out loud.  On the wall hung a coat of arms with a sword and shield.  He walked towards the wall, and examined them closer.  They were ornamental, that was for sure, but they could easily slice through a man’s throat.  He reached up and took down the sword.  It was light and smaller than usual.  He hid it inside his cloak, and returned to his position, standing defiantly just inside the doorway. 

Gaviwyr and Eomer returned presently, walking hesitantly inside the door.  Gaviwyr was surprised to see the boy still standing there, but Eomer wasn’t.  He knew the pride that this boy possessed.  “Sit, please.” Eomer beckoned towards an overstuffed lounge.  Olihre stood still, his feet firmly planted.

Eomer smiled knowingly.  “All right…stand.  We will sit.”  He walked passed Olihre casually, not meeting his eyes.  He was desperately searching to find the balance between confidence and condescension.  He did not want to offend the boy further, but he would not waylay his authority as King. 

Olihre stiffened as the King neared him.  He was almost a head shorter than the massive man.  He had fought him before, and knew that he was no match for him, especially not with the Captain there as well.  As Eomer passed, Olihre drew his sword and grabbed Eomer from behind, pressing the sword to his throat.  Gaviwyr drew his sword, but was held back by the King’s hand.  “Gav, stay back!  This is between the he and I.”

Gaviwyr looked at the coat of arms on the wall and scolded himself for his incompetence.  “Eomer, what would you have me do?” 

“Leave us.  I wish to speak to him alone.  Please Gav, I’ll be fine.”

Olihre was aghast at was he was hearing.  The King was acting casually; not struggling a bit, nor showing any fear.  And here he was sending away his guard.  “Will you be fine?” He shouted as he pulled Eomer backwards and pushed him into a chair, the sword still pressed against his throat. 

Gaviwyr looked at Eomer pleadingly, and then at his master’s request, backed out of the room, glaring at the boy. 

“Boy, settle down.” Eomer said casually.  “There is no need for this.  Just hear me out and we can reach a settlement.”

“A settlement!” Olihre roared, pressing the sword harder to Eomer’s throat.  “You think perhaps you can buy my sister?”
   

“Honestly boy, just settle down.  You are entirely too worked up to be making any kind of rational decisions right now.  Just sit down and we can discuss my errors.”

Olihre drew the sword lightly across Eomer’s throat, leaving a thin red line.  “First of all,” he said, stepping back, “I am no boy.  Secondly, I have had plenty of time to consider the pain I would like to put you through.”  Olihre lowered his sword but did not sit down.  He knew that killing the King would do no good, and that he would not escape alive. 

Eomer stood slowly, looking at Olihre with a hint of gratitude in his eyes.  “You have every reason to be upset with me.  I do not argue your right to kill me, but I would warn you that none in this palace but me will respect that right.  Even if I ordered it, once I was dead, they would kill you.  So it would do you better to negotiate with me and receive something in return for your injustice.”  Eomer thought he was being quite fair, but Olihre apparently did not share than notion.

“The injustice was not mine, it was my sisters.  How would you repay her?  By keeping her in your sights at all times?  That is exactly what you want you pig!”

Eomer felt embarrassed by these accusations.  “I assure you…no, I swear to you…on Dethenor’s grave, I had no ill will in my heart at the river that night.  I was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You lingered in the wrong place at the wrong time!” Olihre shot back at him. 

“I did!  I admit that.  But it was not out of lust, only curiosity.  Are these not my lands?  Do I not have the right to know what happens in them?  It was a strange sight, would you not admit?”

Olihre would admit nothing out loud, but in his heart he was beginning to believe the man.  “No matter your intentions, you cannot honestly think it appropriate for my sister to work for you now, not after all this.”

“I think Xanthe can make up her own mind.  I will of course tell her what happened, but the rest is up to her.”

Olihre didn’t like hearing Eomer speak his sisters’ name.  “She already knows what happened-- she just doesn’t know that it was you.”

“Then I will tell her.  I have nothing to hide.  I don’t expect that she will want to work here after she knows, but shouldn’t we allow her to make that decision?”

Olihre rolled his eyes in mockery.  “You don’t know my sister.  She will do anything that you tell her NOT to do.  She already knows that I don’t want her here, and she will agree to your request solely to spite me.”

“Well then it seems that there was a problem long before I arrived, doesn’t it?”  Eomer was curious why Xanthe was so rebellious.  “Why does she do that?”

“That is none of your business.”  Olihre threw his sword on the ground and approached the King unarmed.  “I will allow Xanthe to make her own decision, but know this…if you ever touch my sister, or upset her in any way, your death will not be a question, but an answer.”  With that, Olihre turned and stormed out the door, only to be caught by Gaviwyr and thrown against the wall. 

“The King may pardon you, but I do not.  Watch yourself boy, for I will be ever aware of your movements!”  Gaviwyr hauled Olihre down the hallway and shoved him out the double doors.  “Your sister will be here at noon today, or I will come get her myself.”

Chapter Nine- Bold Is Beautiful 

Though Gaviwyr had threatened to retrieve Xanthe himself if Olihre provided any hindrance, in the end there was no need.  As soon and Xanthe had finished bathing and changing, she raced downstairs to her mother and told her of her summons- conveniently leaving out the part where Olihre had forbidden her from going.  When asked about his whereabouts, she told her mother that he had gone on one of his ‘I’m in a bad mood, leave me alone’ rides-- which was not altogether a lie.  As soon as Xanthe had her mothers leave, she picked a horse out of the stables and set out for the palace.    As she traveled, Xanthe was sure that her horse must have felt her excitement, for his guided trot presently became an unauthorized cantor.  Xanthe did not mind; she could hardly wait to get to the luncheon.  She was however worried about running into Olihre on the road, and was therefore keeping a keen eye on her forward path, though she knew that at this pace, it would be nearly impossible to spot and then effectively avoid Olihre by dashing off the road.    As she had predicted, she soon saw a horse and rider approaching, a good hundred yards down the road.  She quickly looked to both sides of the path and then guided her horse down a small embankment, stopping behind an old well-house.  She leaned into her horse, patting it on the neck, hoping that it would not whinny and give her away.  There she waited, hearing the galloping hoof-beats getting closer and closer. 

~          ~          ~

Olihre had seen his sister riding towards him.  He had also seen her dart off the road and hide.  He was fairly upset at first and planned to scold her, but as he neared, he began to understand why she would hide from him.  He had after all never seen his sister so excited about anything.  He knew that to her, his enraged actions earlier must have seemed severely unfounded.  Olihre sighed with pity as he realized that his sister would soon be finding out why he hated the King so much.  He did not envy her, for he knew it would be hard to hear.  Part of him wanted to turn around and follow her discreetly, waiting outside of the palace to escort her home when she came out, no doubt distraught and afraid.

He neared the wooden structure that hid his sister.  Struggling with himself as to whether or not he should stop, he first pulled back on the reigns to slow the horse, and then prodded it forward with his heel.  The horse threw its head to the side in protest, whinnying and stamping its feet.  The noise was met by a replying whinny not far off.  Olihre couldn’t help but smile.

~          ~          ~

Xanthe rubbed her forehead in frustration as her horse conversed with her brother’s.  She sat up straight, set her jaw, and prepared for an argument.  To her surprise, her brother continued riding straight down the road, passing not 15 feet from where she sat. 

Did he not hear my horse? 

She was abruptly answered when Olihre turned in his saddle, smiled at her, and shouted, “Good luck Xan!”  He then turned around to ride off, but stopped his horse suddenly, turning once again and shouting, “Xan?  Remember I love you, okay?  Just remember.”

Xanthe was too confused to say anything.  Her brother certainly was going through some tremendous mood swings.  His actions earlier in the day had been just short of neurotic, and now he seemed both giddy and melancholy, if those emotions can possibly be combined.  She mumbled back, “Thanks…” though she was sure he couldn’t have heard it. 

~          ~          ~

Olihre was quite proud of himself.  He really did wish his little sister luck, hoping that she would be able to overcome whatever damage this did to her.

*          *          *

At the palace, Xanthe had been shown into a lovely waiting room, adorned with rich tapestries and beautiful glass lamps.  She sat there, much like she had sat the day before in the stables, nervously smoothing out the folds of her lovely red dress.  She had borrowed the dress from her mother, who had worn it only once, at a celebration that King Elessar had thrown for his beloved wife upon her arrival in Gondor.  It was made of the most intricately woven gossamer, so sheer that it took a good ten layers to make it decent.  The layered skirt fell about her ankles at many different lengths, giving it a soft and almost weightless look.  The bodice was made of the same material, but it was detailed with ornate gold stitching, depicting ancient runes of the Sindar elves.  The generous square neckline showed off Xanthe’s graceful shoulders and long neck.  Xanthe had fallen in love with the dress the day that her mother had brought it home.  Ysenia had purchased the rare dress from a band of traveling merchants headed for the Grey Mountains.  Xanthe had imagined that it was made for an Elven maiden, and that the runes were a tribute to the maiden’s beauty.  She wore it now, a bit unsure whether she could do the dress justice.

She wasn’t left to fret for very long, as presently Gaviwyr and Eomer entered the room, bowing to her and looking at each other nervously.  Xanthe was left to wondering, yet again, what it was that caused two grown men to act so strangely.

Gaviwyr spoke first.  “Madame, we are so pleased that you have accepted our invitation to join us for luncheon.”

“Of course!” Xanthe nearly shouted back, only to realize that she was being a bit less than professional.  She cleared her throat and started again.  “Of course I would join yourself and His Highness for luncheon.  I thank you for the invitation.”

Eomer nodded curtly and cleared his throat.  “Madame, I do have something else I need to discuss with you, and I think it would be better that I do it before our luncheon.”  Eomer looked to Gaviwyr for support, and his Captain nodded his head in approval.

“Certainly.  What is it you wish to discuss?” Xanthe had the distinct feeling that she was about to be disappointed.  She tried to brace herself as best she could, but she had no idea what to expect, leaving her feeling quite vulnerable.

Eomer sensed the unease in her and tried to relax his facial expression to one of humor.  “It seems…no, there was…an unfortunate incident…well…I feel horrible, but…”  Eomer could not do it.  He could not face this girl.  He turned to Gaviwyr pleadingly.

Gaviwyr looked Xanthe in the eye and asked her, “Xanthe, did your brother tell you about his running into someone at the river a while ago?”

Xanthe was not at all prepared to hear those words.  She tried several times to answer but found herself unable.  Finally she uttered, “You?”

Eomer’s eyes widened and his stomach turned when he realized that his best friend was being accused.  “Mi’lady, no…it was not Gaviwyr…it…it was I.  I am so sorry.  I should have had the courage to tell you myself, but…I couldn’t.

Xanthe had been dumbfounded enough when she thought it to be Gaviwyr who had watched her at the river.  Finding out that it was the King sent her into a frenzy of emotions.  She was scared first and foremost; scared and angry.  The King could do anything and have anything he wished-- and she wondered as to his intentions.  But at the same time, she was strangely excited.  When her brother had said it was a mere farmer who had watched her, she had felt violated and yet somehow flattered.  Now that she knew it was a King, she still felt violated, but she was loath to admit that she also felt honored.  If indeed he could have whatever he wanted, why had he watched HER?  And for that matter, why had he ONLY watched?  Xanthe wondered at all of these things, unaware of the concerned eyes boring into her.

“Madame?” Eomer had expected the woman to cry or throw a fit-- certainly not to sit thoughtfully as she was presently doing.  “Is everything all right?”

Xanthe felt herself blush as she looked into the King’s apprehensive eyes.  “All right?  How could it be?  I am at a loss for words.  Tell me, what does one say when she receives this sort of news?”

Eomer was relieved that the woman was speaking calmly, though a bit taken aback by her bold clarity.  “Of course Madame.  I assure you, I do not expect forgiveness.  I only wish to tell you that it was an accident.  I hadn’t expected to find you there.  I certainly didn’t mean to stay.  I beg of you to understand that, whether you forgive me or not.”

“And yet you did stay, whether you meant to or not.”  Xanthe was surprised at the obeisant words of the King.  Was he actually begging her forgiveness?  Why would he care about her feelings?  She felt compelled to relieve him of his guilt, and yet, somehow she could not bear to let him off, just yet.

“I don’t know what came over me mi’lady.  I give you my word that I meant no harm.  I was afraid that if I left, you would hear me and be frightened.”  Eomer knew even as the words left his lips that they were only a half-truth.

Xanthe believed this penitent King that stood before her, nearly trembling, like a little boy caught stealing from his mothers sugar stash.  She looked at her lap, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.  Her heart was pounding, and she felt a bit shaky, though none of these were feelings of anger.  “I wish for this to all be over.”  Those were the only words Xanthe could find to say, though she new they were vague and would need further explanation.

Eomer let out a shallow breath of air and furrowed his brows.  “Of course Madame.  Thank you for allowing me to unload my burden.  I will have Gaviwyr escort you home, if that is agreeable to you.”

All semblances of professionalism flew out the window when Xanthe burst, “But what of the position as Palace Healer?  Am I to be denied that honor due to your mischance?”

Eomer had already turned to leave, but now spun on his heel when he heard what he least expected.  “I’m sorry?”

Xanthe realized that she was entirely out of line, but she knew that if she didn’t try now, she would scorn herself for years to come.  “I came here to discuss a position.  Has it indeed been filled then?”

Gaviwyr stepped forward.  “No mi’lady, it has not.  We simply assumed that you would not be interested in the position once we had spoken to you about…other matters.”

Xanthe felt her boldness increasing as she stepped towards the King.  “Did you not tell me that it was an unfortunate mistake?”

Eomer couldn’t believe what he was hearing-- this woman was speaking to him as if she had already forgotten what he had just admitted to her.  Has she forgiven me so easily?  “It surely was Madame.  I suppose we thought that you would be uncomfortable working here now.”

“You suppose?  Have I anything to fear?”

“Nothing Madame.”  Eomer’s face hardened.  “I promise you, on the grave of my father, you have nothing to fear here.”

Gaviwyr raised his eyebrows in surprise at the intensity he once again heard in Eomer’s voice.  He knew that his friend did not lightly make any oath on behalf of his deceased father, and he was surprised that this situation, even as serious as it was, warranted such a promise.

Xanthe was also rather taken aback by the intensity she felt in the King’s promise.  Looking fleetingly at Gaviwyr, she turned back to the King and smiled.  Feeling that she had put him through enough torment, she reassuringly stated, “In that case My King, I see no reason why I shouldn’t be allowed to at least vie for the honor to work as your healer.”

Gaviwyr smiled.  He couldn’t believe how well this was going.  He felt a great relief in his heart, knowing that Eomer would finally feel at peace with the unfortunate situation at the river.  Looking at his friend, he saw not only relief, but another emotion as well.  The King was staring at Xanthe with a look of unabashed shock on his face.

Xanthe understood that this was an unusual situation to begin with, and she also understood that her response had been far from the expected one, but she felt bolder than she ever had before.  She knew that if ever there was a time to do what felt right, now was that time, and she strongly felt that the palace was where she was supposed to be.

Gaviwyr watched the shocked King and the pensive woman for a few moments before breaking the thick tension.  “Shall we have lunch then?”

Xanthe held out her arm as an invitation to the first gentleman in the room who dared take it.  Eomer looked at Gaviwyr, and Gaviwyr looked back at him, with a barely perceptible nod of his head.  Eomer took Xanthe’s arm and led her gracefully down the hall into the dining room.

Xanthe smiled at her own boldness.  She didn’t know what had come over her; she only knew that she felt happier and more excited at that moment than she had since her father’s death.  On the way to the dining room, Xanthe made a mental note to thank Olihre for his concern.  She now understood why he was so angry; she only hoped that he could accept her decision and be happy for her.   

Chapter Ten- What a Tangled Web We Weave

Olihre was amazed to see his sister ride up their lane with a smile on her face.  Had the King indeed paid her off?  Olihre had the sudden urge to say something sarcastic, but thought better of it, as he didn’t truly know the feelings of his sister’s heart.  She was after all very good at masking her emotions.  Instead, he helped her off her steed and offered to return the horse for her.  “Mum will want to know how your luncheon went,” he said with a hesitant voice and a sidelong glance.

Xanthe knew that her brother was trying to pry information out of her without actually putting himself in the vulnerable position of asking.  “Thanks Oli.  I shall tell Mum that my meeting went splendidly!” 

“Then he didn’t tell you…!”

Olihre’s rant was cut off by Xanthe’s reassuring grip on his arm.  “It was not what I had expected mind you, but it turned out well, nonetheless.”

Olihre knew that her pointed words spoke of the secret that the two shared.  He gave his sister a concerned look, affectionately squeezing her shoulder.  “You don’t hate me then for not telling you the truth?”

Xanthe shook her head emphatically and gave Olihre a kiss on the cheek.  “I know why you did what you did, though I wish you wouldn’t have put yourself in such danger-- storming the palace…honestly Oli!”

Oli smiled at her exasperated expression.  It was good to see any expression on his sister’s usually sullen face.  “All right, no more storming the palace.  Besides, I am staying as far from there as possible, what with that Gaviwyr daemon stalking me like prey!”

Xanthe raised an eyebrow in surprise, but did not comment.  She really didn’t want to know any more than she had to about the situation.  As far as she was concerned, nothing happened.  She wished not to see the faults of the past, but rather to plan the success’s of the future-- her future, which for the first time in her life seemed full of possibility.

While Olihre tended to the horse, Xanthe very nearly flew into the house to seek out her mother.  Throwing open the front door and stumbling inside, she gasped as she ran into her uncle.  “Nori!  I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

Before Noradol had a chance to reply, Aunt Corla cut in from across the room, “Didn’t LOOK is more like it child!  Gracious!”

Xanthe’s face fell as she tried to make out an apology, but her scowling aunt apparently hadn’t finished yet.  “’Tis a good thing you’ll be off wreaking havoc at the palace instead of here!”  The words sounded rather harsh, but Corla gave Xanthe a knowing smile and winked at her. 

Xanthe tried to hide the ridiculous grin on her face, but she seemed to have lost control of her facial muscles.  “They have accepted me Auntie!  I start tomorrow!”

“Well dear that is wonderful, but I suspect you should be telling your mother all this before you unload on us!  Go on, she’s upstairs!”

Noradol took Xanthe’s hand and patted it as she past him and raced up the stairs.  Turning to Corla he whispered, “Can you even remember life before these young ones came?”

Corla replied curtly, but with a soft look in her eyes, “Wouldn’t want to.”

*          *          *

The luncheon had gone well, though it was a little awkward at times.  Eomer had relaxed quite a bit, but still seemed somewhat nervous.  Gaviwyr was his usual chatty self and had been Xanthe’s saving grace, making her feel very comfortable.  As they ate, they discussed the requirements of the position as well as the upcoming trip.  It had been agreed that for Xanthe to join Eomer and Gaviwyr alone on the trip at this point would be a bad idea.  Not only because of the strange circumstances of their relationship, but because she was brand new to the job and hadn’t become well acquainted with them yet.  They agreed that they would reevaluate their positions on future trips when the time came, but until then they needed to find an escort for Xanthe. 

“We certainly have plenty of options,” Gaviwyr had said.  “We could send any of our female servants, though I fear they may not be accustomed to riding a horse for days on end or sleeping on the ground, as we will be doing.”

Eomer nodded but said, “However, their job is to do my bidding, and if that is what I bid of them, what choice have they?”

Xanthe was a bit put off by Eomer’s pompous statement, even though he hadn’t said it with any air of majesty, only as a simple fact.  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said looking pointedly at the King, “I shall have my brother Olihre join me, if that is agreeable with you.”  Xanthe enjoyed seeing Eomer and Gaviwyr exchange looks of annoyance with each other.  “Is that a problem?”

Gaviwyr smiled suavely and turned to Xanthe.  “No mi’lady, it is not a problem…not with us anyway.  It is just that your brother doesn’t particularly like either of us.” 

Eomer rubbed the bridge of his nose tentatively between his thumb and forefinger.  “That doesn’t matter Gav, he has every reason not to like me.  But that’s not the point anyway.  His purpose will be to accompany Xanthe, not to serve as a jester for me.”  Looking apologetically at Xanthe he smiled, “Of course your brother may come.”

Xanthe smiled at the King’s dry sense of humor.  “Thank you Your Highness.  I shall tell him to behave civilly, he won’t be a bother, I promise.”

*          *          *

After luncheon was over, Xanthe was given a tour of the palace, and then shown to the healing house, which was larger and more beautiful than Xanthe could ever have expected.  The outdoor path that led to the house was lined with trees, beautifully carved wooden arbors, flowering vines and ornate wishing wells.  Birdbaths could be spotted here and there along the way, and the ground was paved with smooth stones taken from the river. 

Xanthe wandered along the path in awe, breathing in the cool autumn air and listening to the brittle leaves crunch under their feet.  She approached the doors to the wing and marveled at the rich, dark wood.  Eomer opened the doors and stepped aside, allowing Xanthe and Gaviwyr to enter.  Xanthe entered only a few feet and then stopped, taking in everything around her.  Several etched-crystal lamps fastened to the walls with polished brass lighted the hallways.  Between the lamps hung bright tapestries, making the hallway appear warm and comfortable.

Gaviwyr’s green eyes sparkled as he stole a look at the obviously overwhelmed maiden.  He and Eomer exchanged amused glances.  “You haven’t even seen the chambers yet,” Gaviwyr chuckled as he passed Xanthe and headed down the corridor.  Xanthe blushed slightly and turned to follow Gaviwyr.  She was surprised when a usually silent Eomer came up beside her and began making small talk.

“So how is it that you have gained so much experience as a healer in so little time?” 

Xanthe turned to look at the King, wondering if he was skeptical of her abilities.  She was relieved to find that he was smiling, his eyebrows arched in expectation.  Xanthe cleared her throat, wondering how far into detail she should go.  “I’ve simply taken advantage of the visits from our family healer.”

Eomer nodded politely but interjected, “It would seem then that you are either a very fast learner, or you were sick more often than most.”

Xanthe smiled coyly.  This King was sharper than his outer appearance let on.  She decided to be more straightforward and replied, “Yes, I was sick quite often as a child.  The healer became as much a member of our family as any of us.  He was there every morning when I awoke, and every evening when I retired.  Sometimes he even stayed over.”

A look of concern flashed in Eomer’s sandalwood eyes.  “Then your illness was serious?”

“It was…for a long time, but it is entirely gone now.  I am as healthy and strong as one who never had the disease.”  Xanthe watched Eomer’s normally rigid jaw relax as his lips formed a smile. 

“That is a good thing, for traveling with Gav and I is not always easy.  We like to set a hard pace.”  He looked at Xanthe, knowing that she would likely come back with one of her rock solid replies, and indeed, he was gratified

“I’ve never met a pace I didn’t like!” she said with a determined laugh.

Eomer decided to up the stakes.  “What of that brother of yours?   Is he as friendly with paces as you?”

Xanthe wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the King’s comment or dutifully defend her brother.  “Oli can hold his own,” she laughed, “as long as you feed him well and are careful not to step on his toes!”

Gaviwyr had been listening in and couldn’t help but laugh at the double meaning that Xanthe had obviously given her reply.  “We shall try extra hard not to step on his toes, or yours for that matter, as he seems to feel the discomfort in proxy.”

Eomer rolled his eyes, hoping that Xanthe wouldn’t be offended by Gaviwyr’s rather insensitive statement.  “Ignore that, please mi’lady.”

“I shall,” Xanthe said, narrowing her eyes in mock offense and raising her eyebrows at Gaviwyr.  Gaviwyr only smiled confidently and continued down the hall, coming to massive double doors, which he simultaneously threw open with ease.  Xanthe entered the larger room and smiled.  “This will do wonderfully,” she said in a whisper meant only for her.

“Good,” Eomer laughed, “I’m not sure I could justify redecorating it according to your whim.  The cooks and butlers would most definitely throw a fit!”

Xanthe smiled and nodded absentmindedly as she walked around the brightly lit room.  It was painted a light cream color, with a border of wild red-rose vines painted just above the baseboards and extending halfway up the twelve-foot walls.  The ceiling was painted sky blue, and had brass chandeliers hanging from it.  The chandeliers were shaded with etched crystal, causing the light to ricochet in all directions.  The floor was tiled with lovely sandstone colored slate, scrubbed clean and polished to a gloss. 

Gaviwyr led Xanthe to the far wall and began his tour.  “Here mi’lady, are the cupboards that hold all of our remedies; herbs, tonics, salves…” Gaviwyr let his voice trail off as he fumbled around in his tunic pocket.  “Ah, here it is, your key!  We keep it locked, for proprieties sake, of course.”

“Of course.” Xanthe echoed as she ran her hand over the smooth brown wood.  Taking the key from Gaviwyr she fit it in the lock and opened the doors.  “Very well-stocked!” Xanthe noticed aloud.

“Yes, Puchen was very meticulous when it came to his duties.” Eomer said, smiling devilishly at Gaviwyr.

Xanthe noticed the exchange and shot each of them an expectant glance.  “Don’t tell me you two are going to share a joke and not offer me the pleasure!”

Eomer laughed aloud at Xanthe’s forwardness.  “Of course not Mi’lady!  Gav, why don’t you tell her why our old healer resigned?”

Gaviwyr cocked his head, shaking it melodramatically.  “I suppose you are going to try to blame me for that aren’t you, you scoundrel?  I tell you, the man had it in for me!”

Eomer shook his head.  “As I remember it, he was simply trying to pack the medicine cupboard for the trip, and you were giving him a hard time.”

“That is precisely the problem, he was trying to pack the ENTIRE thing!  If I hadn’t stopped him, he may have tried to pack the cupboard itself.  Honestly!”

Xanthe laughed, “That’s it?  There must have been some other reason!  Nobody quits a palace position for something so minor.”

Eomer raised his eyebrows and groaned, “Yes…well they do if they have no respect whatsoever FOR the King.”

At that Gaviwyr started laughing maniacally, “He thinks Eomer’s an elf-lover!  A troll-hugger!  A dwarve…”

“I think she gets the point Gav!” Eomer was trying to act mad, but he couldn’t hide the obvious pleasure he was getting from the exchange.  “Puchen wasn’t very tolerant of other races,” He explained to Xanthe.  “He accused me of bringing trouble to Rohan by opening the land to all who would come.”

Gaviwyr interrupted, “He is especially distrustful of elves, and since several of Eomer’s closest friends are elves…well, let’s just say contention seemed rather unavoidable.”

Xanthe nodded her head and frowned.  “How could one be distrustful of elves?  They are marvelous!”

Those were certainly the right words to say if one was trying to win the respect of either of the two men in the room, but especially Gaviwyr, who looked at Xanthe as if she were made of chocolate.  “My sentiments exactly,” he beamed, unconsciously licking his lips.

Xanthe was busying herself with rummaging through the supplies, and took no notice of Gaviwyr’s sudden fascination with her; however, the change had not gone unnoticed by Eomer.  “Yes,” he said mockingly, “and if anyone here is an elf-lover, it is Gaviwyr.  He practically worships them!  In fact, didn’t you once say that if Legolas was a woman…”

“Eomer, you are twisting my words!” Gaviwyr felt his face go hot.  He couldn’t believe Eomer was doing this to him!  Narrowing his eyes he held a private conversation with Eomer.  No words were spoken, only knowing looks.

You are jealous, aren’t you? Gaviwyr questioned Eomer with a glance.

 You have been pretending this whole time that you didn’t like her! Eomer shot back with an accusing eyebrow.

 I don’t!  Not like that anyway!  Calm yourself you lovesick pup! Gaviwyr had perfected the martyr look and was now using it against Eomer.    

 I have no idea what you are talking about. Eomer insisted with a penitent look.

 “Uh-hmmm,” Xanthe wasn’t sure quite what she was witnessing, but she felt she should either leave or break it up.  “Gentlemen…is there something wrong?”     

The two men broke away from their staring match and looked around awkwardly.  Mumbling excuses and apologies, the two quickly looked for something to distract Xanthe, glancing at each other desperately, with sheepish grins on their faces.

“Right…uh…let’s look at the…ummm…” Eomer was having trouble focusing.  Why was he acting this way?  He wasn’t actually jealous of Gaviwyr, was he?  This is ridiculous, I am not interested in courting her.  He can have her if he wants.  For all I care, he can take her to…

“The beds!” Gaviwyr finished Eomer’s spoken sentence for him.

“What?” Eomer half-yelled.  He had lost track of the conversation.

Gaviwyr glanced at his friend with an incredulous look on his face.  “Let’s show her the healing beds.” Gaviwyr pronounced every syllable carefully, looking Eomer straight in the eye.  Doing so, he had missed the confused look that Xanthe had allowed to inhabit her face briefly.

Eomer blushed, not for the first time that day, a fact that annoyed him greatly.  “Right, yes…the beds.  Why don’t you show her the beds Gav, I’ve…other matters to attend to.”

For the millionth time that day, the King and Captain looked at each other pensively.  Xanthe was left staring at the two, wondering what in the world had been in their wine that hadn’t been in hers.  Inwardly, Xanthe rather enjoyed seeing the two behave so strangely.  It made her feel much less intimidated around them.  I haven’t any experience with proper socializing; maybe this is normal in these parts…or maybe I have gotten myself into a funny situation.  Xanthe held a private conversation with herself briefly, while the two men continued theirs.  This was interrupted when she glanced about and saw a winding staircase leading to a hatch in the ceiling. 

“Where does that lead?” she asked, pointing to the corner of the room. 

The two men snapped out of their brief mental battle and glanced in the direction her slim finger was pointing.  “Oh,” Eomer started, “that leads to the roof.  We have a little garden and sun deck up there.  Patients that are well enough can go up there to relax.  Would you like to see it?”

“I would love to!” Xanthe started walking towards the staircase.

“Good, Gav can show you!  I’ll be off.”  Before anyone could say anything Eomer was strolling quickly towards the double doors.  “We’ll see you tomorrow then Mi’lady?”

“Xanthe, My Lord, please…and yes, I’ll be here bright and early.”

Eomer turned on his heel and stopped just inside the doors.  “In that case, Xanthe, please call me Eomer.  Until tomorrow.”  Eomer nodded his head politely and took his leave.

When Eomer was out of earshot Gaviwyr quipped, “What he means is you may call him Eomer until tomorrow, after that, you can call him a horse’s…!”

“Gav!” Xanthe interjected, trying not to gratify him with a laugh; her smile though gave her away. 

Gaviwyr liked that Xanthe was shortening his name already.  Most of his close friends did, but only after having known him for years.  “Sorry Mi’lady…or is it Xan?” 

He was teasing her now, but Xanthe wasn’t to be made flustered.  She merely ignored him and started up the stairs.  The two spent the rest of the hour on the roof, discussing the trip and planning the necessary provisions.  When the sun began to make its way into the west, Xanthe excused herself, allowing Gaviwyr to escort her back to the stables, although he had tried to insist that she wait at the palace and have one of the stable boys deliver her horse to her.        

“Do I look like an invalid?” she had questioned him.

Gaviwyr took full advantage of this opportunity to allow his eyes to briefly take in her form.  “Of course not Mi’lady,” he ceded, “I just wouldn’t want your lovely dress to be muddied or torn.”

Xanthe smile with satisfaction.  She was pleased to have gotten a compliment regarding her mother’s Elven dress.  “You do have a point Mi’lord, but look…here we are…and not even a scratch!”  Xanthe swished her skirt to rid it of any dust.  “I am an accomplished woman, would you not say?”

Gaviwyr helped Xanthe onto her horse and stood back.  “Accomplished indeed!” he said aloud as she rode off.  And then to himself, you’ve made a King and his Captain act like children.  Shaking his head, he headed back to the palace, knowing that he and Eomer’s relationship had taken a strange turn, and wondering what would come next.

Chapter Eleven- The Journey Begins

It was now two days since Xanthe had accepted the position of Palace Healer.  She had ridden home the day before yesterday elated, not even allowing Olihre’s unhappy frowns to get her down. 

After speaking to her aunt and uncle, Xanthe had followed her aunt’s advice and run upstairs to speak to her mother.  Ysenia was ecstatic when she heard of Xanthe’s accomplishment, and had offered her red dress to Xanthe as a congratulatory present. 

“It looks better on you anyway,” she had said, admiring the way her Elven dress accentuated her daughter’s long form.

“I really don’t see how that is possible Mum, being as how we look almost exactly the same, but I will gladly accept your gift!”  Xanthe hugged Ysenia and then turned and stared at her bureau.  She wanted to begin packing immediately, even though in reality, she had not fully unpacked from her family’s long journey from Gondor. 

“What are you doing dear?” Ysenia asked, wondering why Xanthe had taken a sudden interest in the wooden drawers against the wall. 

“Hmmm?” Xanthe hummed absent-mindedly.  “Oh, I need to pack for our trip to Minas Tirith.” 

“What trip to Minas Tirith?”  Ysenia look utterly confused.  “You hadn’t mentioned that.  When will you be going, and with whom?”

Xanthe’s eyes widened as she realized that she had completely forgotten to mention the trip to her mother.  “Oh Mum, I’m sorry!  It’s been so crazy I forgot to tell you; the King and his Captain and I leave for Minis Tirith in two days.”

“Really?” Ysenia wasn’t sure how she felt about this.  “Just the three of you?”

Xanthe’s eyes widened once again when she realized she had completely neglected to mention to Olihre that she had volunteered him.  “Oh!  Well…I was going to ask Oli to go--that is if you can spare him.  If not, the King has agreed that it would be necessary for a female escort to come along, and he can find one easily.”

Ysenia was relieved to hear this.  “Well it is good that the King is mindful of the need for propriety.  It certainly is rare to find that among men these days.”

Xanthe smiled, knowing that if Oli had heard that, he would have been absolutely furious.  “Yes Mum, he is quite the gentleman.  If it’s alright with you, I’d like to go ask Oli if he’ll come.”

“Absolutely.  We can spare him for a few weeks.  Nori doesn’t have much work this time of year anyway.  Spring is when the stables are full.”

Xanthe nodded and left the room, about to head down the stairs, when she heard water being splashed around in the room next to hers.  Oli was washing up, after having cared for her horse. 

“Hi Oli,” she said, walking into the room and sitting on a bench against the wall.

Oli smiled to himself.  He had heard Xanthe speaking to his mother and he knew what she was going to ask him.  “Hey Xan.” he said casually. 

Xanthe wasn’t sure where to begin.  “Oli…” she started, “I am leaving for Minis Tirith in two days.” Xanthe was perplexed when Oli remained silent, without any reaction.  “With the King and the Captain.” she said emphatically, confident that this would get his attention.

Olihre tried not to laugh.  He stood there looking at her, as if he had no idea what she was getting at.  “That’s great Xan.  Make sure to pack warm clothes.”  He started to walk past her, but was stopped by her hand on his arm. 

“Oli wait!  I need to ask you something.” Xanthe stood and took a deep breath.  “Obviously it wouldn’t be proper for me to travel with the two men alone, so they have suggested that I take an escort.  They can provide one if I can’t, but I was hoping…if you aren’t busy…maybe you could come?”

Olihre dropped his act and grinned at his sister.  “Sure Xan, I’ll come.  I don’t want you alone with those fiends anyway.”  He immensely enjoyed seeing Xanthe roll her eyes, and he wasn’t done picking on her yet.  As he turned to leave he chuckled, “a gentleman, is he?”

Xanthe let out a ‘humf,’ playfully kicking her brother in the rear.  “What would you have me tell her?”

Ysenia had appeared in the doorway of the room next door.  “Tell me what?” 

Xanthe threw Oli a subtle look and smiled sweetly at her mother.  “Nothing Mum, Oli is just teasing me.”

Ysenia smiled.  “So you will go then Oli?  I would feel much better if you did.  The King seems just wonderful, but I still don’t think it is a good idea for Xanthe to travel alone with them.”

“Yes Mum, I’ll go.  Besides, I’d love to meet this ‘wonderful’ King that she keeps talking about.”  Oli laughed and ran down the stairs, dodging another well-placed kick in the rear. 

Xanthe looked at her mother innocently and rolled her eyes.  “He’s so strange Mum, remind me why you bore him?”

*          *          *

Xanthe was now sitting on the front porch watching her brother and the two other men load bags onto their horses.  Eomer and Gaviwyr had arrived just minutes ago on their own steeds, and they had trailed two palace horses behind them.  Xanthe had tried to assist them with the loading, but they had insisted that she was only in the way, and they could get the job done faster if she would go sit with her family.  Gaviwyr had gained a certain amount of satisfaction from the offended glare that Xanthe had thrown their way.  With a furrowed brow, she turned and stalked towards the porch, sitting down among her family.

Olihre was silent as he strapped his own bags to the large black horse that he had been provided with.  A slightly smaller gray horse had been brought for his sister, and Gaviwyr and Eomer were busy tethering her possessions to it.  When they were finished they turned and walked towards the porch.  “We’re ready to leave if you are!” Eomer said to Xanthe, nodding at Noradol, Corla and Ysenia. 

“Be careful love,” Ysenia begged her daughter, throwing meaningful looks at the three men who were to accompany her.

“Of course Mum!  Don’t worry, we’ll be back in no time.”  Xanthe hugged her mother. 

Eomer watched Xanthe as she conversed with her mother.  He noted her fitted cotton riding pants, which were the same mauve color as her brothers.  Olihre’s tunic however was brown, while Xanthe’s was a brilliant green.  They both wore long black boots, and had gray cloaks bundled accessibly on the backs of their saddles.  They’ve certainly had experience traveling, he thought to himself, remembering the few occasions where women had accompanied him on trips.  Aside from his sister Eowyn, he hadn’t yet met a woman with enough common sense, or self-assurance for that matter, to wear leggings rather than a bothersome dress.

Olihre watched as Eomer looked his sister over.  He cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him.  “We’d better be going,” he said tensely, throwing Eomer a warning look.  

Eomer sighed, realizing that Olihre had the wrong idea, and knowing that it would only make the journey more uncomfortable, no matter what excuses he gave the boy.  “Yes,” he said, “we’ve got a good five or six hours of riding before we stop for lunch.  Let’s get going.”

They all mounted their horses, situating themselves comfortably.  Looking at each other expectantly, they all nodded and started down the lane, shouting farewells to those they left behind.

Xanthe took a deep breath and smiled.  And so begins my new life. 

Chapter Twelve- Of Elves and Men 

Xanthe was sitting on some wild grass beside a small stream, soaking her feet as she ate some boiled root and dried meat.  Olihre sat to one side of her, eating his own portion, while Eomer and Gaviwyr sat to the other side, though they seemed more interested in their map than in their food.

“Eomer, I’m only saying, we would save time if we went between the mountains and Druadan Forest, rather than going all the way around the Druadan, and then through Osgiliath before FINALLY entering Minas Tirith.”

“Gav, you know Aragorn gave that land to the Wild Men and promised that they would be undisturbed.  They are our allies, but I am not sure we would be welcome traipsing through their land.  You know how dearly they value their privacy.”

“Surely, and if we were an army I would understand their distress, but we are only a few travelers.  Besides, you are the King.”

“They care not for titles.”  Eomer said, folding his map back up and stuffing it into his pack.  “Gav, if it were only you and I, I wouldn’t hesitate.  In fact I have almost no doubt that our presence would go unnoticed.  But I cannot allow that small chance of conflict to put our companions in danger-- not when the cause isn’t absolutely necessary, and it isn’t.  It would only knock two days off of our travels.  What’s your hurry anyway?”

“Just that I am anxious to get to the White City as soon as possible.  I can hardly wait to see Eowyn and Faramir, not to mention Legolas and Aragorn.  You’re right though, it isn’t worth the risk; not with these two with us.”  Gaviwyr smiled at Xanthe as she looked up at them discreetly, trying hard not to interfere in the conversation she knew was not directed at her.  

Olihre had also been listening, and he was grateful to the King for considering his sisters’ safety, though he knew that Xanthe was likely bothered by their protectiveness.  “I thank you for your concern Your Highness,” he said as politely as he could.  He then turned to Gaviwyr and said, “Xan and I will ride as hard and fast as you like.  As long as the horses can withstand it, we’ll get you to Minas Tirith ahead of schedule.”

Gaviwyr smiled.  He really rather liked Olihre, and he found it unfortunate that their strenuous introduction made it necessary for there to be tension between them.  “I’ll take that into consideration,” he said.  “Thank you.”

Eomer was surprised by the seemingly friendly conversation he was hearing.  Perhaps Gaviwyr and Olihre would become allies after all, though he doubted it.  Both had an unsurpassable amount of pride, and both, he could easily see, cared for Xanthe, albeit in different ways.  “Riding hard won’t be a problem,” he offered.  “Not with Legolas’s stallion carrying all of our food and supplies.”

Xanthe had wondered about the stallion.  “It belongs to Legolas?”

Eomer nodded.  “It is to be his wedding gift to my sister and Faramir.  He asked me to deliver it to him in Minas Tirith.  I picked it up from Mirkwood on one of my recent journeys.”

Xanthe leaned forward eagerly.  “You’ve been to Mirkwood?”  Eomer nodded.  “Then you’ve met King Thranduil?”  Eomer nodded again, appreciating her unabashed interest.  Xanthe continued with her questioning.  “And is he as formidable as they say?”

Eomer laughed.  “Well, that depends on who you ask, though I must admit, I am surprised you even know of him.” 

Olihre entered the conversation again at this point.  “Xanthe has always been fascinated with Elves.  When she was younger her healer would tell her all sorts of stories and Xanthe would question him for hours on end.”

Gaviwyr leaned back casually against a tree.  “Had he met elves before?”

Xanthe raised her eyebrows and smiled.  “Of course, he was one.”

Olihre chuckled as Gaviwyr nearly fell over.  “Geylof is a Lorien Elf.  He pledged his service to Dethenor after his wife was saved from an Orc attack near the Falls of Rauros.  Boromir found her half-drowned in the water, with a grievous wound in her side.  He brought her back to Osgiliath where she was nursed back to health.  Meanwhile Boromir rode to Lorien to find her kinsman.”

Eomer’s jaw gaped open.  “Boromir rode into Lorien?” Eomer had never known exactly how to feel about Boromir.  He had heard conflicting stories about him, some saying he was a hero, and some saying he was a traitor.  He could only imagine how hard it must have been…setting out on a journey that seemed destined for agony.  “Then he is indeed as brave as they say, for Lorien is not a place one idly wanders into.”

Xanthe nodded.  “Yes, Geylof said that Haldir told him of a proud if not belligerent Boromir.  Haldir said that Boromir demanded to see Lady Galadriel herself, refusing to speak with any of the wardens.  But The Lady would not see him and sent Haldir instead, who listened to Boromir’s story while aiming an arrow at his heart.  Haldir said that as soon as he heard that an elf maiden had been found, he knew it had to have been Lailei, who had been reported missing almost four weeks earlier.  Haldir immediately lowered his bow and bowed before Boromir, offering him his apologies.”

Olihre countered, “And if you have ever heard of Haldir, you’d know that he seldom offered anything to the race of men.”

Xanthe rolled her eyes.  “Anyway, Boromir was shown to Geylof’s talan, where he was in mourning with his family.  Geylof was so overcome when he heard that Lailei was alive, he swore right then and there that he would serve Boromir from that day forward.  Haldir negotiated this exchange between the Lady and Boromir.  Galadriel accepted Geylof’s wish to leave for Osgiliath, and sent Geylof with a vial of crushed mallorn bark, as a remedy for Lailei.  She thanked Boromir in person, and offered Lorien as his second home, anytime he wished to visit.”

Eomer sighed.  “Ironic isn’t it?  He died just after the Fellowship left Lorien.”

Gaviwyr nodded.  “He was a valiant man.  It is cursed that fate should have him play the traitor.  Any one of the Fellowship could have turned, but not all would have fought as valiantly as he did two save the two hobbits.”

Xanthe wasn’t entirely sure what Eomer and Gaviwyr were talking about, and she felt it would be better not to press the issue at that time.  “Anyway, Geylof and Lailei served Dethenor as Palace Healers, as Boromir didn’t know what else to do with their allegiance.  Since my Uncle Noradol was in the service of Dethenor at that time, I was given the opportunity to have Geylof as my healer.”

“Geylof took a certain liking to Xanthe,” Olihre explained.  “He considered her one of his own children.”  A dark look entered Olihre’s stormy green eyes.  “Many said that if it were not for the exemplary healing abilities of the Elves, Xanthe would likely have perished as did most who fell ill to that dreaded disease.”                      

The three men looked at Xanthe expecting to see her smile, but instead saw a look of fear mar her fair face.  “Is there something wrong Xan?” Olihre asked in a worried voice.

Xanthe knew that Oli hadn’t meant to say anything wrong.  She tried to smile, but knew that it didn’t look convincing.  “It’s just that I have often wondered why I was allowed to live.  Why did the Valar take so many, but leave me?”

Olihre frowned and scooted closer to Xanthe, putting his arm around her shoulders.  “I don’t know Xan.  Things don’t always make sense to us.  All I know is that you have a great purpose here, and you deserve to live a happy life.  You cannot torment yourself with guilt and responsibility.”

Eomer and Gaviwyr looked at each other, both feeling that they were privy to a conversation that was far too private for their ears.  Silence ensued for many minutes as the group finished eating, with Eomer finally breaking in.  “We should be off now if we want to make our camp at the Erech tonight.  The river will bring much welcome fresh food to our breakfasts tomorrow.”

Xanthe stood quickly, not looking at the others.  She made her way back to her mare, fastening her pack to the back of her saddle.  She then walked carefully over to the gray stallion and pulled his reigns into her hands.  “Come with me boy, I’ll lead you now.”  Leading the stallion behind her, she fastened its reigns to the back of her saddle, and then mounted her mare.

The others quickly packed up and mounted their horses as well.  As the group proceeded once more, there was a definite heaviness in mood.  All were silent as they made a fast pace down the dirt road that ran beside a small stream, cutting in and out of groves of golden trees.

Xanthe sat with her head tilted downward.  Her eyes were fastened to the back of her mare’s neck as she rode, lost in thought.  Why did I do that?  Now everyone’s uncomfortable!  Xanthe took a deep breath, wondering how she was going to be able to make the others forget the incident.  She didn’t want them to treat her differently, the way she had been treated her entire life-- as something to be regarded with caution, something fragile and sick.  ‘What’s wrong with her?’  ‘Why did she live and Mum didn’t?’  ‘What do you suppose she did wrong to anger the Valar?’  Xanthe could hear the voices welling up in her head.  She had never actually heard these words spoken, but anytime she had dared venture into public, the glares and stares from those all around her spoke volumes.  She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve the disease, but she also wondered why she had been spared.  So many died…so many good people…what can I offer the world that they couldn’t?

Xanthe looked ahead of her at Gaviwyr and Eomer, who rode their horses parallel as they chatted.  She couldn’t help but smile, especially when she saw Eomer reach over and smack Gaviwyr on the shoulder, laughing at some absurd comment Gaviwyr had no doubt made.  She dropped her eyes back to the mares’ neck and furrowed her brow.  She thought of how all her life she had tried desperately to fit in.  She would lie in bed at night rehearsing social situations in her head, hoping that the next time she met someone she would be able to make a good impression.  But her incredible shyness and awkwardness always overtook her, and she consistently ended up making a fool of herself and retreating back to her mothers’ side.

Olihre had always told her that it was all in her head.  He told her that people didn’t think she was different, they only wondered why she was never around.  Olihre laughed when she told him of how awkward she was.  “Xan, you are the only one who sees that.  Everyone else thinks your funny!  You’re the only one who thinks you’re dumb!” He affectionately pushed her back into her pillows and threw a blanket over her head.  What he didn’t see were the tears that the blanket soaked up. 

Maybe he’s right…am I so insecure that I simply won’t let myself be loved?  She thought of her first day at the palace when Eomer and Gaviwyr had made their stunning admission of guilt.  She had handled it quite well.  She came across as confident and self-assured.  Inside, she felt as though her stomach was being run through a press, but she had kept her cool.  Even as they showed her around the palace and healing house, she had not only seemed confident, she had actually been witty, maybe even charming. 

Xanthe looked up again, fixing her eyes on the two men in front of her.  She could see Olihre watching her out of the corner of her eye, but it was the two men she was interested in.  Do they not see through me?  Her field of vision then narrowed from the two men to just the King.  Why did he watch me?  She smiled as she pictured him, sitting high upon his steed, watching her in the river.  She knew he had admired her; it was evident in the way he had acted afterwards.  But does he still?

Xanthe’s ponderings were interrupted when Olihre called out to Eomer, “Sire, we can quicken our pace if you would have us.  It looks like rain; maybe even snow.”  Xanthe looked at her brother with annoyance, understanding all to well what he was trying to do.

Eomer scanned the horizon and indeed found dark gray clouds, though they were quite far off.  Looking at Gaviwyr he nodded, “Alright then.  Xanthe, can you handle a faster pace?”

Xanthe rolled her eyes and sarcastically called back, “I suppose, though I am afraid I may muddy my dress.”  She looked down at her leggings in mock surprise and put her hand in front of her mouth.  “Oh, well…never mind then!”

Gaviwyr laughed aloud and winked at Xanthe, a gesture not overlooked by any in the group.  Xanthe smiled at Gaviwyr, but quickly turned her eyes to Eomer, who looked at her expectantly.  “Ride on then,” he called to the group, still staring at Xanthe.  It wasn’t until his horse leapt forward that he turned and broke the gaze.

Olihre rode closely beside Xanthe, looking at her through narrowed eyes.  “Oli stop it!” Xanthe muttered.  “You know my horse doesn’t like that!”

Olihre gave her a withering look and led his horse away, quickening his pace to match the gallop of Eomer and Gaviwyr.  Xanthe followed suit, but even the new pace couldn’t keep her mind from wandering.  Why did he look at me like that?  I wasn’t flirting with anyone.  Xanthe breathed out hard.  I suppose I’d better watch myself.  Even through her self-reprimanding thoughts, Xanthe couldn’t help but grin.  “I’ve never flirted before,” she whispered.      

Chapter Thirteen- Cold Water, Warm Heart

The four companions traveled for several more uneventful days, making various camps along the forest line, staying as close to the nourishing river as possible.  The river provided not only fresh drinking water for the companions and their steeds, but it also fed various types of edible vegetation, as well as several types of small game.  Since their departure, the group had barely even touched their packed rations of dried meat and hard breads.  They had been feeding on berries, roots, tubers, and animals that they caught in snares.

“As soon as the snow starts falling we’ll be thankful for the extra food.  It’ll be a lot harder to find food and game along the river when the air turns cold.”  Gaviwyr was turning a small animal on a make-shift spit over a little fire.

Xanthe laughed sarcastically, wrapping her blanket more tightly around her.  “WHEN the air turns cold?  I think I am about to go into hibernation.”

All three men laughed, shaking their heads.  Eomer, who was sitting next to Xanthe, rose and casually walked towards the fire.  He stopped a few feet away and turned slightly, throwing his blanket at Xanthe.  He then nonchalantly stooped down to help Gaviwyr prepare the meal, knowing that Xanthe wouldn’t likely accept his blanket.

Xanthe gathered up the blanket and held it out to Eomer, who purposely had his back turned to her.  “Your Highness, take your blanket back, please.  My blanket and this fire are enough to keep me warm.”

Eomer still did not turn to face her.  He did however grunt apathetically, “the cold is relative when you have slept on the plains all your life.”

Xanthe made an obvious sound of displeasure and continued holding the blanket out to Eomer’s back.  Olihre and Gaviwyr exchanged amused glances, neither saying anything.  Eomer continue ignoring her, pretending to be occupied with turning the spit.  He only started to worry when he saw Gaviwyr and Olihre looking at him expectantly, trying to stifle laughs.  Turning around, he saw that Xanthe was still holding the blanket out to him and her arm was beginning to shake very slightly from its weight on her fully extended arm.  She had a look of stubborn defiance on her face, and did not make eye contact with anyone but the King. 

Eomer chuckled and took his blanket back, only to deliberately set it right back down at Xanthe’s side.  He quickly moved away and sat next to Gaviwyr on the other side of the fire, glancing furtively at Xanthe through the flames.  He was delighted to see a truly exasperated expression come over her fair face.  I can be just as stubborn as she can.

The test of wills was interrupted when Gaviwyr declared, “This overgrown rodent is ready for the devouring my friends!”  With that he began to carve the animal into sections, putting a large portion on each person’s tin plate.

Xanthe wrinkled her nose and the thought of eating an ‘overgrown rodent,’ but she also couldn’t help but smile as the aroma of roasted meat wafted up to meet her nostrils.  She began passing out the boiled tubers that she had gathered from the rivers’ edge.  “These are the roots of the clystrine plant.  Not only do they taste sweet like rose petals, but they are also a wonderful muscle relaxant.  We should all sleep well tonight.” 

Gaviwyr smiled, nodding his head appreciatively.  “Eomer, if there was any doubt before as to Xanthe’s abilities as a healer, they can all be laid to rest now.”  Xanthe ducked her head slightly to avoid showing her slightly reddened cheeks. 

Dinner passed silently and quickly, the powerful root soon making itself apparent to all of the weary travelers.  Olihre yawned and set his plate down beside him.  “I propose that we turn in now and do the cleaning up tomorrow morning.”

Gaviwyr nodded his head, “Well, if you’re volunteering, I suppose I’ll have to second that motion.”      

Eomer laughed, taking everyone’s empty plates and stacking them neatly by his feet.  “You can all turn in.  I am going to wash these dishes so as not to attract any unwanted scavengers during the night.”

Xanthe rose quickly, “I can do that Sire.  You need to see to the horses anyway.”

Eomer smiled, handing the small stack to Xanthe and then headed off to make sure the horses were bedded down for the night.  Olihre and Gaviwyr looked at each other.  “Do you suppose we should help?” Olihre asked. 

Gaviwyr shook his head as he laid back and wrapped his blanket around himself.  “No need, it isn’t a big job.  We can both see to breakfast tomorrow and let them sleep in.”

“Sounds like a fair trade to me,” Olihre yawned as he slid his back onto the ground, staring at the fire until it’s brightly colored flames lulled him to sleep.  Gaviwyr also drifted off into oblivion, allowing the sound of the crackling fire and the gurgling of the stream to carry him off into a deep sleep. 

Eomer finished with the horses and then started towards his own bedroll.  He took off his boots and crawled into his blanket, allowing his eyes to close and his aching muscles to relax.  He smiled complacently as he felt a cool breeze on his face, blowing the camp-fire smoke here and there.  Just as he felt himself drifting off he sat up suddenly.

I can’t fall asleep until Xanthe’s back! 

He waited for several more minutes, blinking his eyes repeatedly, trying to keep the sleep out of them.  Finally, when he was sure she should have been back, he stood and walked swiftly towards the river.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the deliberate swishing of water and the soft murmur of a woman humming.  Walking into the clearing he stopped short.  Brief memories played through his head as he saw a familiar sight.  Xanthe had stacked the washed dishes next to the river and was now sitting on the bank, her leggings rolled up to her knees as she washed her feet in the water.

When Xanthe heard someone enter the clearing she turned quickly.  “Hello,” she said simply when she saw Eomer. 

Eomer looked frightened.  “I am sorry mi’lady.  I wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Xanthe nodded, understanding perfectly why the King looked so nervous.  “No need to apologize, Your Highness.  I’m just trying to wash up as best I can before I turn in for the night.”

Eomer nodded, relaxing slightly.  “An old habit?” he questioned her with a guilty grin on his face.

Xanthe laughed aloud, pleased that the King could laugh at their uncomfortable situation.  “Yes, though it is a bit too cold out now for a full swim.”

In response to Xanthe’s jest, Eomer felt a bit more daring.  “Frankly I am surprised that you brother hasn’t followed you here.”

Xanthe raised her eyebrows in mock defiance and asked, “How do you know he hasn’t?”

Eomer chuckled.  “You have effectively drugged us mi’lady.  They are both sleeping like babies by the fire.”

Xanthe nodded.  “I admit I am starting to feel the effects of the root as well, though this cold water is doing a good job at keeping me alert.”

Eomer furrowed his brow and wandered next to Xanthe, dipping his bare feet into the water.  The cold shot though his body like a bolt of lightning.  He quickly jumped back, stamping his feet frantically.  “You have an outstandingly high pain threshold!”

Xanthe laughed, “I thought it was all relative My Lord?”

Eomer nodded in concurrence, “I did say that didn’t I?”

Xanthe nodded, watching as the King sat down beside her.  “I think it is all a matter of progression,” she said.

“Progression?” Eomer asked in earnest.

Xanthe looked carefully at the King, wondering if he indeed had any interest in her at all, or if she was just fooling herself with false hope.  She smiled thoughtfully, wording her reply very pointedly, hoping that the King would pick up on her subtle hinting.  “Some situations may not seem favorable at first, but if you give them time, they may in the end be enjoyable.”

Eomer narrowed his eyes, looking at Xanthe closely, trying to read her face.  “So this water may at first seem unapproachable, but if given time, it will warm?”

Xanthe emitted what sounded like a mixture between a laugh and a snort, “The water may warm a bit, but the idea is that YOU, in time, will become used to its temperature.”

“Ah,” Eomer said as he rolled his own leggings up his calves.  “Then I suppose I should begin getting accustomed to it now, as I am eager to fully immerse myself as soon as possible.”

Xanthe tried but failed to restrain a surprised gasp.  If indeed the King understood what she was talking about, he was certainly being very forward.  She quickly turned her attention back to him as he eased his feet into the icy water.  She watched as his entire body tensed, his hands gripping the bank, pulling up patches of dirt and grass.  Xanthe couldn’t help but laugh.

Eomer turned to her and let out a playful ‘hmpf.’  “Well, you’re not being very encouraging, are you?” he said, raising his eyebrows at her suggestively.  “One would think that maybe you didn’t want me becoming accustomed to the temperature, so to speak.”

Xanthe turned her head away quickly, not wanting the King to see her blush.  Now she was sure he was speaking of something more than just water temperature.  Is he interested?

As if in answer to her silent question, Eomer reached over and turned her face back towards him.  His fingers lingered on her cheek only for a moment before he pulled his hand back away.  “You are more beautiful than this river Xanthe, though just as elusive.”

Xanthe looked down at her lap as her eyes widened and her breath quickened.  She intertwined her fingers nervously and tried to answer, but only managed to mumble incoherently. 

Eomer took a depth breath, thinking that he had surely made a mistake in suggesting to her his feelings.  He cleared his throat hesitantly, causing Xanthe to look up.  She saw the distress in his face and realized that she was leaving him in limbo.

“Your Highness…” she began. 

“Eomer,” He pleaded, drawing her into a gaze that she could not break.

Xanthe continued, trying desperately not to let his exquisite eyes entrance her.  “Eomer then…I do not mean to be elusive; I suppose I don’t even know exactly what it is that I am eluding.”  

Eomer couldn’t help but chuckle.  Xanthe had a way of diverting responsibility, and she had, once again, forcing Eomer to either tell her how he felt or change the subject entirely.  “I am loath to bring this up, but I feel it is the only place to begin.  The night I saw you at the river…I truly did not look upon you with lust, and yet I could not look away…your beauty was so radiant I forgot all manners, all responsibilities.”

Xanthe was now blushing furiously, but she could not break the King’s intense stare.  “Your High…Eomer I mean…I wish you to know that I have all but forgotten that situation.  You should not worry yourself about it any longer.”

Eomer reached out again, tentatively taking her nearly trembling hand.  “But I have not forgotten, though it no longer troubles me in the way that it once did.”

“Then how does it trouble you?” Xanthe asked, allowing her hand to relax in his strong but gentle grip. 

Eomer looked down, finally releasing Xanthe from his gaze as he studied the hand that he held in his own.  “I worry that any chance I may have had to become close to you is now dashed.”  Xanthe began to interject but Eomer continued on.  “I worry that regardless of what you may feel for me, your family-- especially your brother, will never let me become close to you.”

Xanthe felt chills ripple over every inch of her body.  The person sitting next to her was a King, but for the first time since they had met, she saw him only as a man.  This man seemed to adore her, though she knew not why.  She looked at him boldly, knowing that he was now waiting for her to either put his mind at ease or bury his hopes once and for all.  Without thinking through what she was doing, Xanthe leaned towards Eomer, keeping her right hand in his, and putting her left hand on the back of his neck.  She hesitantly pulled him down towards her, stopping when their faces were only a hair’s width apart. 

Eomer felt as if everything in Middle Earth was suddenly moving in slow motion.  The rushing river suddenly sounded like no more than a trickling stream.  The wind blowing fiercely through the tree leaves sounded more like windblown grasses on the plains.  His heart slowed to a near stand-still as he watched the goddess before him move.  Her hand grasps mine… he marveled.  Eomer wanted to move towards her upon his own will, but found that he couldn’t.  He wanted to put his other hand around her waist and pull her to him, but still, he couldn’t.  He could only sit and watch, almost terrified, as she leaned in towards him.  Closer and closer she came, until just before he could finally taste her, she stopped.  Her enormous eyes stared pleadingly into his.  Her lips were parted, as if she were about to speak. 

Eomer finally found the capacity to move.  He tilted his head ever so slightly, touching her lips with his.  She did not respond to his touch, only closed her eyes and waited for more.  Eomer moved his hand to her face, stroking his thumb across her lips before kissing her once again.  This time he lingered, and in the brief moment before he pulled away, she responded.  She drew his lower lip between hers and pulled away slightly, enticing Eomer to pull her frantically back to him, drawing her into a deep kiss.  He was elated to find her as eager to explore as he was-- she ran the tip of her tongue softly over his lips, slowly working her way into his mouth until she found his anxious tongue. 

For many minutes the two explored each other in silence, speaking no words, nor desiring any to be spoken.  Finally, when she felt her lungs could take no more, Xanthe pulled away from Eomer, dropping her hands to her lap.  Eomer took a deep breath and moved his hands from Xanthe’s face to her wrists, which he held securely against his pounding heart.  He leaned towards Xanthe again, placing a tender kiss upon her cheek. 

Xanthe sighed and curled her lips into a pleased smile.  “It is strange Eomer that I am a healer, and yet it is you who heals me.” 

Eomer grinned guiltily once again.  “Perhaps, but I shall certainly need your abilities if your brother learns of this encounter.”

Xanthe laughed aloud, her voice echoing off of the water.  “Maybe we should keep this between ourselves for the time being.”

Eomer frowned, “For the time being.  I don’t know how long I can keep my affection for you a secret.”

Xanthe couldn’t help the enormous smile that spread over her face.  She pulled Eomer towards her once more, kissing him rewardingly for his comment.  Soon they arose, gathered up the dishes, and walked quietly back to camp. 

Hand in hand…for the time being.

Chapter Fourteen- Can’t We All Just Get Along?

Eomer and Xanthe slept well that night.  The potent root healed their bodies while their brief encounter at the river revived their spirits.  When morning came, Olihre and Gaviwyr arose early to prepare breakfast as they had agreed the night before.  Xanthe had attempted to get up, but Olihre had insisted that she stay in her bedroll and take advantage of the few extra minutes of rest.  She finally agreed and lay back down, though she knew she would not fall back asleep.

Olihre went about building a fire while Gaviwyr fetched fresh water from the river.  Xanthe rolled over to face Eomer, whose bedroll was just to the left of hers.  He was still sound asleep, his face covered by his blanket.  Xanthe smiled as an idea came to her.  I shouldn’t wake him, she thought to herself, while at the same time reaching out and gently pulling the blanket from off of his face.  Eomer stirred slightly but did not wake.  His blond hair hung over his face, partially concealing his unconscious smile.  Xanthe laughed quietly.  He was a handsome yet formidable man when awake, but when sleeping, he looked like a boy, innocent and docile.  Lying back down, Xanthe yawned and stretched like a cat, allowing her muscles to remember their duties.   

Olihre had just finished building the fire to an acceptable blaze when Gaviwyr returned with a container of water.  “Just porridge this morning,” he said as he stepped over Xanthe’s bedroll to get to the fire.  “I couldn’t find any berries or fruits that weren’t frozen over.”

“We’ll certainly survive on JUST porridge,” Xanthe said sarcastically.  In reality, porridge was one of her favorite meals.  She loved the taste of the millet and wheat when boiling had coaxed out their pungent flavors.  “It’s too bad we don’t have any honey.” she added.

Olihre smiled triumphantly at Xanthe’s comment and ran to his bedroll.  Out of the depths of his pack he fished a small vial.  “Auntie Corla sent me with this!”

Xanthe gaped in awe when she saw the beautiful golden honey.  “You’ve been packing that this whole time?”

Olihre nodded.  “I actually forgot that I had it.  But we haven’t really needed it until now, have we?  No harm done.”

Xanthe jumped out of her bedroll and gave her brother a massive hug.  “No harm done at all!”

Gaviwyr smiled but looked away as he noticed Eomer stirring out of the corner of his eye.  “And his majesty arises!” he jested as Eomer blinked his eyes several times and brushed his hair out of his face. 

Xanthe suddenly felt a bit nervous.  Ridiculous thoughts ran through her head as she waited for recognition.  Would the king remember their encounter?  Would he be angry with her for her boldness the previous night?  Would he regret it?  Xanthe’s thoughts ran wild as she watched Eomer acknowledge Gaviwyr with a roll of his eyes.  He then looked at Olihre briefly before turning his eyes hungrily towards Xanthe.  She felt relief rush over her as he smiled broadly and then blushed, looking down at his disheveled appearance.  Xanthe’s relief however soon turned to alarm when she saw the curious look on Gaviwyr’s face and the bewildered look on Olihre’s.  She quickly turned around and started preparing the porridge. 

Gaviwyr stopped her with a firm hand.  “Mi’lady, we promised we would cook breakfast this morning.”  He glanced at Olihre who nodded and took the spoon out of her hands.

Xanthe nodded in resignation.  “I think I’ll just take a short walk then.”

The others exchanged knowing glances.  They all knew that when Xanthe wanted to go on a ‘short walk’ it meant she was going to ‘use the facilities,’ so to speak.  They always made sure to stay exactly where they were and wait for her to come back.

When Xanthe was out of earshot, Gaviwyr approached Eomer, who was taking advantage of Xanthe’s absence to quickly change into a fresh pair of leggings.  Gaviwyr sidled up to him and whispered, “So, what are you so happy about?”

Eomer just shrugged nonchalantly and replied, “Nothing in particular.  I suppose I slept well last night.”

Gaviwyr grinned, “Well, you certainly were smiling profusely in your sleep.”

Eomer rolled his eyes.  “So?”

“So, My King, I have never seen you do anything short of scowl in your sleep, especially when you are sleeping on the hard ground.  What are you not telling me?”

Eomer hated lying to Gaviwyr; he knew he could not fool him and that Gav would only be resentful of his deceit.  Yet, he had told Xanthe that he would keep their encounter a secret for the time being.  “Nothing Gav, really…go make your porridge!”

Gaviwyr squinted his eyes and glared at Eomer.  “Fine.  Let’s just hope you are a better liar when Olihre asks you if you were with Xanthe last night at the river!” 

With that, Gaviwyr turned and stalked off, leaving Eomer looking particularly horrified.  Eomer would have run after him and admitted everything had Xanthe not returned at that very moment.  She entered the clearing just as Gaviwyr turned and stormed away from Eomer.  She wasn’t sure what to focus on first, Gaviwyr’s sour expression or Eomer’s hurt one.  She looked furtively at Eomer, questioning him with her eyes.  He only looked back at her in frustration.  Now I’ve done it!  Gaviwyr is angry and Eomer will regret ever knowing me.  Why am I so utterly incapable of having a normal relationship?   

Xanthe’s thoughts were interrupted when Olihre demanded, “Have I missed something?”

Xanthe, Eomer and Gaviwyr all looked at each other, neither sure of what to say.  Gaviwyr finally spoke, “No Olihre, you have missed NOTHING-- nothing at all.”  With that he walked off in the direction of the river.

“Obviously I have missed something,” Olihre insisted.  “Why is Gaviwyr upset?”

Eomer looked at Xanthe, wondering whether he ought to be honest or whether to continue the lie.  Xanthe returned his look with a pleading one of her own.  Eomer knew it was not yet time.  “Gaviwyr asked me a question that I was not prepared to answer, that is all.  He and I are very close and he seems to think he should be involved in everything in my life.  Unfortunately, that just isn’t so.”

Olihre looked at the King with growing dissatisfaction.  “I am sure he appreciates your loyalty and trust!”

Eomer felt his cheeks grow hot as he advanced towards Olihre.  “You have no idea what you speak of!  Do not dare to presume you can regard me in such a manner!”

Olihre turned to Xanthe, a look of indignant triumph in his eyes.  “This is what you want?  This is who you choose?”  With that he turned and followed Gaviwyr’s path towards the river.

Xanthe fought back tears of panic as she looked at Eomer.  His face was hard and angry.  “Eomer, I am so sorry!  I didn’t know all this would come of…of…”

“Of a stupid mistake!” Eomer interjected coldly.

Xanthe released all of the breath within her as she turned away in shame.  Of course it had been a mistake.  How could I have hoped for the love of a King when I cannot even maintain a simple friendship with the most common of people?  And now what have I done?  I have caused trouble between a King and his Captain; between a King and my brother!  How selfish must I be before I realize my inadequacy?

Eomer started towards Xanthe, his arm held out as if to touch her, but she moved away.  “Forgive me Your Highness, it was my mistake.  It will not happen again.”  Xanthe turned and walked briskly towards her horse.  She untied it and quickly mounted, not looking back as she rode off in the opposite direction of the river.

Eomer watched Xanthe ride off with a look of disgrace upon his face.  He knew he couldn’t have said anything that would have comforted her.  He had betrayed her trust and he doubted that she would ever give it to him again.  Eomer looked at his surroundings with a heavy heart.  The porridge was boiling over on the fire and the bedrolls lay strewn upon the ground.  Not a sound was heard upon the plain but the gallop of a single horse racing towards a shelter of loneliness-- the only thing that had ever kept Xanthe safe and the very thing that tore at Eomer’s heart that moment.        

Chapter Fifteen- Regret

Olihre left to join Gaviwyr at the river, reluctantly leaving Xanthe and Eomer to themselves.  As he approached, he saw Gaviwyr sitting on the bank with his legs folded in front of him, his hands holding his head, and his shoulders slumped over.

“You act like a jealous lover, you know?” Olihre called as he approached.

Gaviwyr had heard Olihre coming and was ready for his biting sarcasm.  “Better than a jealous brother?” It was more of a question than an answer.

Olihre was surprised to find himself smiling.  “A protective brother.” he started.  “Xanthe is not as strong as she seems; she is too fragile to be tossed around by the King.”

Gaviwyr’s loyalty instantly flared, but died down quickly when he remembered why he was at the river in the first place.  “Yes, well, I would speak to Eomer of this if indeed he would share any information with me in the first place.”

“What happened that has you so upset?”

Gaviwyr hesitated, pondering the response any information might bring from Olihre.  “All I know is I watched Eomer leave his bed not long after we retired last night.  He walked towards the river, and returned quite some time later.”

“So?” Olihre knew where this was going, but wanted all the details he could get out of Gaviwyr.

“So,” Gaviwyr continued emphatically, “he was holding your sisters’ hand as they approached.”

Olihre was not happy to hear this, though he had assumed it to be the case based on the display he had seen earlier at camp.  He thought over his emotions for a moment before turning calmly toward Gaviwyr.  “You want her for yourself, don’t you?”

Gaviwyr shook his head vehemently. “No!” he lied.  “You misunderstand me.  It is not the matter of your sister and Eomer being together that upset’s me, it is the fact that Eomer somehow thinks he has to hide it from me…I just can’t understand that.”

Olihre nodded in understanding as he sat down a few feet from Gaviwyr.  “Do you think anything happened?”

Gaviwyr shook his head, not entirely sure why he was about to defend the man that upset him so at the moment.  “Eomer would never do anything to compromise Xanthe’s virtue.  He was nearly asleep last night when he arose suddenly, as if he remembered something important.  I am sure he went to check on her.  After all, we did leave her to clean up, alone.”

Olihre sighed, not wanting to let the King off so easily.  “Still, something has obviously happened, whether a declaration of love or a mere handshake, they have made some sort of contact.”

Gaviwyr nodded absentmindedly.  He was trying desperately not to picture Xanthe and Eomer together-- for some reason it bothered him.  “Your point?”

Olihre rolled his eyes knowingly.  “I would rather not have my sister with Eomer, whether he is a noble man or not.  Even if we dismiss all that has already happened, I think that the only thing that could come of a relationship between them is sorrow.  That is the last thing Xanthe needs.”

Gaviwyr smiled.  He knew exactly what Olihre was getting at.  Eomer was a busy man-- a King even.  He had so many duties and responsibilities now, and they sometimes seemed to overwhelm him.  Gaviwyr had a hard enough time finding opportunities during the week in which to relax with his best friend and he could imagine Eomer’s wife becoming very lonely.  “She deserves better than that.”

Olihre arched his eyebrows in surprise and Gaviwyr grimaced as he realized that he had said the last sentence aloud.  Trying to cover for himself he quickly added, “I mean…that is…your sister deserves to be with someone who makes her happy.  Whether it is Eomer or someone else, I suppose it is her decision.”

Olihre nodded in resignation.  “Yes, it is her decision, but it is also her penance to pay if things do not work out.  I have tried to intervene, but she will not let me, not anymore.  I suppose she is grown up now.”

Gaviwyr nodded, picturing a very grown-up Xanthe in his mind.  “I suppose she has.”

*          *          *

Xanthe rode away from camp a fast as she could.  She could already feel the frustrating tears on her cheeks.  “Stop it!” she yelled aloud.  “Stop crying!”  Then to herself, You knew this was going to happen!  You set yourself up!

Xanthe could feel her horse tensing under her.  Her yelling had made the horse nervous.  She reached her hand down as they galloped and stroked her neck.  “Easy girl, just take me away from here.” 

Xanthe rode across the rolling plains for quite some time, before finally stopping at a small stream to allow her horse to drink.  She slid off of the mares back and collapsed into the grass, allowing her eyes to close as the sun warmed her face.  She listened to her own raspy breath as she struggled to control it.  Her eyes burned with the salty remnants of tears.  She heard her stomach growl and smiled to herself.  It was not a happy smile, but rather one of a person who has accepted their bleak fate.  She would have to go back soon.  She knew that leaving the camp for long would not only be dangerous and stupid, but it would be a burden to the others.  And above all else comes duty, she thought sarcastically.     

Xanthe opened her eyes when she felt cold drops of water splashing on her face.  Her gray mare stood above her, its wet muzzle dripping.  She stood and wiped her face with her cloak.  “I’ll need all of your insistence to get me back to camp,” she said to the horse.  As if in reply, the horse shook its head and took a step towards Xanthe, who gently mounted and urged her forward again.  “Onward to regret,” she said with a shaky voice.

*          *          *

Eomer had tried to keep busy as he waited for Olihre and Gaviwyr to return from the river.  He knew they would be expecting an explanation and he really wasn’t quite sure what to say.  “Xanthe and I kissed last night.”  As he said the words aloud he was surprised to find that they were not the ones he feared to say.  “I have hurt her,” he said aloud.  Yes, those were the words that haunted him.  Not only would he have to explain this to Olihre, her protective older brother, but to Gaviwyr, his trusted friend, whom he knew also cared for Xanthe.  “I have hurt her, though I am not sure how it happened.”

“What did you say to her?”

Eomer turned to see Gaviwyr walking towards camp, with Olihre not far behind.  He faltered for only a moment before replying, “Nothing, that is the problem.  I should have reassured her, but I didn’t.” Eomer looked pleadingly into his friends eyes.  “I was confused.  I didn’t know what I was allowed to say, so I said nothing.”

Olihre furrowed his brow.  “What do you mean?  What couldn’t you say?” 

Eomer’s first reaction was to be on the offense, but as he looked at the boy he could see that he was not angry, merely concerned.  “Xanthe asked that we keep everything…I mean…” Eomer wasn’t sure how to phrase the next part, so he blurted out, “We kissed, at the river last night.  Actually, she kissed me…I think.  Anyway, afterwards, she asked that we keep it a secret.  She didn’t want you to be angry.” Eomer raised his eyebrows expectantly at Olihre who had his eyes narrowed into menacing slits.

“Why would I be angry!” Olihre said, laughing.  “Oh, that’s right, I love my sister and don’t want her to be hurt!”  Eomer started to interject but Olihre held up his hand.  “No My King, please, let me finish!  I don’t think you understand me.  You suppose that I am an immature boy who has seen fit to hate you no matter what happens, all due to an unfortunate event in the past.  That is not the case, no matter how much you would love to use it as a scapegoat.  I do not hold against you anything that has happened in the past.  It is what has happened since then that I cannot abide!”

“What have I done that is so horrible?  I have been nothing but a gentleman!”

Olihre turned in a wide circle, dramatically letting his arms fly freely around his body.  “Where is my sister now?”

Eomer knew he was beat.  “I do not know.”

Olihre could not stop now, he wanted to drive his point home.  “And why did she leave?”

“I hurt her.”

“Through any fault of her own?” Olihre pressed.

Eomer grimaced and turned to face the plains.  “No!  Of course not!  What do you want from me?”

Olihre walked towards the King, lowering his voice and dropping his shoulders.  “I want you to think carefully before you involve my sister in your personal life.”  Olihre’s voice was calm and thoughtful.  “She already has enough to deal with without being thrust into your unsettled life.”

“I cannot help my life being unsettled!” Eomer exclaimed, turning to facing Olihre.  “I was made King without knowing anything about the responsibilities!  Theodred was supposed to be King!  I never paid attention; I didn’t want to be King!  I don’t want this ‘unsettled’ life, but it is what I have been given.  Does that mean I should never be happy?  Never be able to find love?”

Olihre shook his head slowly.  “No, of course not.  I only mean to say that you should figure things out in your life before you throw my sister into the midst of it.”

Eomer nodded.  How had this all happened?  One moment he was happily thinking of a beautiful woman and the next he is facing her angry brother.  “I will certainly consider all that you have said.  May I just say one thing more?”

Olihre nodded. 

“Xanthe is upset right now because I told her that our encounter at the river was a mistake.  She is not upset because I am the King or because I have more responsibility than I know what to do with-- only because I am bad with words, and even worse with emotions.”

Olihre nodded, placing a hand on Eomer’s shoulder.  “Which is precisely why now would be a good time to re-evaluate everything, before you become more involved.”

Eomer turned to Gaviwyr, who was looking at his own feet, a confused look on his face. 

“I understand,” he said simply.

*          *          *

Gaviwyr felt horrible.  He knew that he was supposed to be a friend to Eomer-- a support and a trusted advisor, but instead of helping him he had stayed quiet, hoping that Eomer would yield to Olihre.

What I am thinking?  Even if Eomer does stop pursuing her, I can’t just waltz in and take over.  Xanthe wants Eomer, not me.  I am sure Olihre would rather she be with an overwhelmed King than an unrefined Army Captain.  Gaviwyr knew that he could never betray Eomer; he would never forgive himself.

Gaviwyr continued in his thought as they three men cleaned up camp, waiting for Xanthe to come back.  He was folding her bedroll back up when he found a small leather-bound book, shoved between the blankets.  Curiously but with much discretion he opened the cover.  ‘My Thoughts’ it said on the first page.  Gaviwyr knew that he should put it back at once, but like Eomer at the river that night, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by a desire to continue. 

The first few pages were filled with descriptions of the lands she and her family had traveled through on their way to Edoras.  A few pages later she began to comment on Olihre’s sullen attitude.  Still a few pages more and she began to write about the mysterious man who Olihre had told her about.  Gaviwyr chuckled as he read Xanthe’s guilty confession. 

‘I must admit, though I know Mum and Olihre would flog me, I am rather intrigued by this man from the river.  Why did he watch me?  Why didn’t he come forward?’

Gaviwyr read ahead to a later entry.

“A King!  I know I should be upset, furious even.  I certainly shouldn’t be working with him.  Yet I can’t help but be excited about this opportunity.  It is such a wonderful experience for me, but even if it wasn’t, there is something about them…they are so different.  The King is so noble and thoughtful, and Gaviwyr is so funny.  I feel as if I could sit and talk with him for years on end and he would never run out of things to say that entertain me. 

Gaviwyr felt his heart beating a bit faster than normal.  She barely mentioned me, he chided himself, upset that he was letting such a small thing excite him.  And yet, she did say she that I entertain her; that is something to be considered.  Gaviwyr flipped to the next page, hoping to find another mention of himself.  Instead he found a poem, scrawled hastily, as if the writer was afraid that the words would disappear if she did not write them down.

The evergreen is strong

She bends to no will

The winds cannot claim her

Her roots hold her still

Through flood and through drought

She stalwartly stands

Then one day she falls

To ruinous hands

These hands mean to maim her

To tear her apart

These hands are so selfish

Caring not for her heart

The evergreen has reigned

For centuries past

But where is she now?

Does life end so fast?

I tell you it does

In the blink of an eye

All I view now

Someday will die

Will anyone know me?

Remember my face?

Or am I forgotten?

Lost in the race

As the evergreen stood

In sureties hold

I too have wandered

Lost in the cold

And just as the evergreen will see her demise

I’ll falter also

Lone death as my prize

Gaviwyr felt as though someone were kneeling on his chest; he could barely get a breath out.  How can one so beautiful feel so much pain?  He was even more upset when he realized that this poem was written only two days earlier.  Are we not enough?  Do we not comfort her?  Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him and he quickly closed the book and shoved it back between the blankets.

Olihre stood behind Gaviwyr, wondering what it was that had kept him so still for the past few minutes.  “What are you doing?” he questioned.

Gaviwyr quickly began rolling the blankets into a tight bundle.  “Just wondering…do you think she’ll come back soon?”

Before Olihre could answer, Eomer shouted, “Here she comes!”  All three men stood to meet Xanthe as she rode quickly into camp, noting that she stared fixatedly at the ground and had no expression on her face. 

Looking around, Xanthe saw that all three men were staring at her sheepishly.  She felt like such a fool, but all she could do was express annoyance.  “Are we going to stand here or ride to Minas Tirith?  We have only another two days ride.”

Gaviwyr realized how difficult this must be for Xanthe, and he quickly turned and began preparing his horse.  “Yes, we are nearly there.  Soft beds and good food await us my friends, let’s not dawdle.  Xanthe, will you set our pace today?”

Xanthe couldn’t help but smile.  Gaviwyr had a way of making awkward situations seem only half as bad.  “I would be happy to,” she nodded.  Setting the pace meant that she could ride in the front, alone.  No condescending advice from her brother; no meaningless apology from the King.  “Let’s go then.”

As the party rode off, at a rather quick pace, not a word was spoken.  All three men watched the woman who led them.  One watched her with worry in his eyes, knowing that she would have many important decisions ahead of her.  Another watched her with regret, knowing that he had wilted a beautiful flower.  And still another watched her with hope.  She smiled at me, he thought.  Maybe I am not such a lost cause to her.

Chapter Sixteen- Minas Tirith

After two more days of very uncomfortable, silent riding, the party of four finally reached the outskirts of Minas Tirith.  As they rode closer and closer to the brilliant walls, the atmosphere within the group changed.  Eomer couldn’t hide the look of longing that shadowed his face as he came ever nearer to seeing his sister again.  Gaviwyr on the other hand looked like a child who was going to the spring festival for the first time.  His sharp brown eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of his comrades.  Olihre had a look of tired relief on his face.  The tension that had filled the group for the past two days was almost more than he could stand.  He could hardly wait to leave his horse for a few weeks and enjoy some time alone in the beautiful city.

Xanthe was the only one whose demeanor did not seem to lighten as they neared their destination.  She was very relieved that they had arrived safely, but she knew that arriving at the city did not mean that the awkwardness between herself and the King would lighten.  Olihre and Gaviwyr had somehow managed to make sure that Xanthe and Eomer were never left alone together for the last two days of the trip.  Xanthe was glad of this in a way, but she also knew that eventually she was going to have to resolve things with him.  She was quite sure that when they arrived back in Edoras the following month, she would find herself without a job; and as much as she understood why this would be necessary, she regretted it deeply. 

The four travelers and their five horses were within about one hundred yards of the main gate when they saw it opening.  All four of them squinted their eyes against the autumn sun and tried to make out who it was that was approaching them.  Gaviwyr was the first to recognize the tall elf, even before he had lowered his hood and revealed his long blond hair.

“Legolas!” Gaviwyr shouted, his arm extended in the traditional greeting of Rohan. 

Xanthe shaded her eyes with her hand as she tried to make out whether this elf had actually heard Gaviwyr from so far away.  It became apparent that he had when he turned to his much shorter companion and pointed with one hand while waving with another, all while maintaining a truly royal air.  Xanthe cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out who the smaller figure was.

Gaviwyr drew his horse along side of Xanthe’s and offered, “That is Gimli, son of Gloin.  He is one of Legolas’s dear friends…and a dwarf.”  Xanthe tried not to look surprised, but she couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows in question, which Gaviwyr returned with a playful shrug of his shoulders.  

Eomer urged his steed into a slight canter, eager to greet his friends.  He could see no others coming out of the gates, but he assumed that he would find his sister soon. Straightening his back and setting his jaw into a strong line he called, “Come then friends, let us make haste, I am weary of this road.”

Olihre chuckled softly.  He realized that Eomer was now trying to assume a more regal tone, perhaps worried that his sister or even Aragorn may not think him suited to be King of Rohan.  “Yes,” he replied more to himself than anyone, “I too am weary of this road.”

Xanthe and Gaviwyr rode in a square formation behind Eomer and Olihre.  As they neared they could see that Legolas and Gimli had been joined by a few guards, but none else who looked familiar.  When they were only a few yards away, Eomer loosed the ties on Legolas’s grey stallion and gave him an encouraging pat on the rump.  The stallion took off at a nearly breakneck speed, galloping toward the group at the gate as if it had wargs on its trail.  Xanthe watched with delight as the dwarf took fright and dove behind the tall elf.  The elf seemed to think this was hilarious; his musical laugh filled the air for what Xanthe could imagine to be leagues and leagues. 

“Those infernal beasts!” she could hear the dwarf sputtering as he was helped up by a guard.  Legolas meanwhile had held his hand out and the horse had come straight to him.  He was now caressing the horses muzzle as he whispered in its ear. 

“Hail, Prince Legolas!” Eomer saluted as he dismounted his horse and walked towards the gate.

“Hail, Eomer King!” Legolas returned in an amused voice.  “I trust your journey went well?”

“It did indeed,” Eomer said.  “It must be chance that you are here to meet us; I don’t believe we are expected until tomorrow.”

Legolas nodded, looking around for Gimli and spotting him standing defiantly away from the horses, close to the gate’s wall. “Not chance, only anxious foresight.  I asked the guards to let me know the minute they saw you coming, and I am pleasantly surprised to find you early, though I am not sure how you managed it.”

Eomer nodded, “I think I must give Gaviwyr credit for that.  He was so eager to get here that he suggested we cut through the Druadan forest!”

Gaviwyr snorted.  “Not through it, My King, just not so far around it!  There are other options you know!”

Legolas laughed and shook his head.  “There are, but only if you don’t mind sprinting the entire way.  That is not a place you want to be found idling in.”

Gaviwyr grinned and looked towards Xanthe.  “Well then we may as well have gone that way-- we have after all been sprinting the past two days!  In fact, if His Majesty doesn’t mind, I should like to give the credit to Xanthe for us being here early.  She set one of the hardest paces I have ever traveled.  If not for our pride, we would likely have asked her to slow down!”

“Indeed?” Legolas queried, turning his head towards the young woman who sat rather stiffly upon her mare.  “You must be Eomer’s healer.” He then turned to Olihre, “Unless it is you?”  

Olihre was trying desperately not to look bored.  “No My Lord, Xanthe is our healer.  I am her brother, Olihre.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you Olihre,” Legolas said, before turning to Xanthe and flashing a wondrous smile.  “And you mi’lady.  I thank you for getting my friends here safely AND quickly.”

Xanthe smiled, though inside she felt rather guilty.  She had actually managed to delay the group quite a bit when she rode off, upset, two mornings before.  “Of course, Your Highness.  It is after all my job, nothing more, nothing less.”

None in the group, not even the guards could have missed the iciness of Xanthe’s words, nor the uncomfortable look that Eomer shot her after she had uttered them.

Gaviwyr rolled his eyes and tried to retrain himself from lecturing the two.  He was really rather tired of the childishness of the whole situation.  “Legolas,” he interjected, “tell us, is your horse as you had hoped, or have we run him ragged?”

Legolas eyed his proud stallion, smiling when it threw back its head and neighed, almost as if it was aware that it was being spoken of.  “Curíl looks wonderful; though I am not sure he has enjoyed being reigned in on this trip.  I have always ridden him without restraints.”

Xanthe was surprised by this answer.  “He is your horse?”

Legolas nodded, scratching Curíl behind the ear, evoking a pleasured snort from his steed.  “I was given him by my father many years ago.  He has been my trusty steed since.  I imagine he was quite upset when I left him in Mirkwood before joining Elrond’s council.”

“Why did you?” Xanthe asked.

Legolas smiled, realizing that he was going to have to provide more complete answers in order to satisfy this curiously sharp woman.  “I knew that I was likely to be away for many years.  Curíl is a fine steed, but I hadn’t yet broken him in on long journeys.  I didn’t want to push him harder than necessary, as he was still very young at the time.”

Xanthe nodded, eyeing the horse.  “He did beautifully on this trip.  He should serve Lady Eowyn well, though I am surprised that you would part with him.”

Legolas looked at Eomer as he answered Xanthe’s question.  “Yes, well, if he didn’t mean so much to me, he wouldn’t be a proper gift, would he?”

Eomer smiled at this and held up his hand, as if trying to prevent any further conversation.  “I do hate to be abrupt, but I am very eager to see my sister.  Where is she?”

Legolas looked at one of the guards and asked him, “Have she and Faramir returned from their ride?”

The guard shook his head, “No, Your Highness, but they should be back any time now.”

Legolas turned back to Eomer with an apologetic look on his fair face.  “If you will follow me, we do have your quarters prepared.  Perhaps you can all wash up before they return.”

All in the group, even Xanthe, smiled at the thought of a warm bath.  “That would be wonderful,” Eomer said.  The group mounted their horses again-- with Gimli riding behind Legolas, as usual-- and set off up the streets, winding their way towards the palace.

When the group arrived they were separated and led by attendants to their various rooms.  Xanthe found that hers was in an entirely separate wing of the palace than were the three men’s.  Finally, something I can smile about.

*          *          *

About an hour and a half after Xanthe had first been shown to her room, she heard a knock at her door.  She got up from the edge of her bed, where she had been unpacking her travel bag.  The only clothing she had brought other than her riding clothes were a simple but well-made blue dress, and the red Elvish dress that her mother had given to her.  She hung these in the wardrobe to remove any wrinkles, and put the rest of her clothing in a beautiful mahogany bureau. 

When Xanthe opened the door she found Olihre, dressed in a finely made cloak and tunic, standing uncomfortably.  “Where on earth did you get those?” Xanthe asked; they definitely were not Olihre’s.

“Gaviwyr insisted I wear them.  He said that the clothing I brought was fine for travel, but not for the palace.”  Olihre rolled his eyes.  “I wasn’t aware that I was to be a fashion role-model as well as a chaperone.”

Xanthe giggled and pulled Olihre into her room.  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She asked, turning around and surveying the chamber with pride. 

Olihre nodded, “They certainly are generous.  I had expected that you and I would be housed in the servant’s quarters.  This is much grander than I am used to.”

Xanthe nodded, “I was expecting that too, but I guess we are considered guests, not servants.”

Olihre frowned and shook his head.  “No Xanthe, you forget, we are servants.  It will be much easier for all of us if you and I just lie low and not get involved in the affairs of His Majesty and the Captain.”

Xanthe was rather upset that Olihre would throw the past in her face so readily, but she did have to admit that he had a point.  “I know Oli, I shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in anything in the first place, I should have known better.”

Olihre nodded but dropped the stern look and smiled.  “It can’t be easy though, having two men fighting over you.”

Xanthe straightened her back.  “Gaviwyr is just angry that Eomer didn’t tell him about our kiss, that is all.  He’ll get over it soon and then both of them will forget I ever existed.”

Olihre shook his head in mock pity and flopped down on his sister’s bed.  “You really don’t get it, do you Xan?  I mean, you always tell me that you are socially backwards, but really, do you not see what is happening here?”

Xanthe growled and threw one of the plush silk pillows at her brother’s head.  “Oli, don’t make fun of me!  I AM socially backwards, and it is NOT funny.  It has done nothing but bring me pain, so if you don’t mind…”

Olihre threw the pillow back at his sister but this time he sat up and took her hand before she could retaliate.  “I’m sorry Xan, I really am.  It isn’t funny-- It’s just interesting that you don’t see it.”

Xanthe was beginning to become exasperated.  “See what?” she nearly yelled.

“Eomer thinks he is in love with you, I am sure you already know that, though I wouldn’t really know because you haven’t felt the need to confide in me.”  Olihre paused for a breath and Xanthe looked as if she were about to interrupt.  “Wait, let me finish.  Not only does Eomer fancy you, but his best friend does as well.  Gav thinks you can do better than Eomer, or at least that is what I over heard him muttering to himself.”

Xanthe was stunned but recovered quickly, unwilling to allow Olihre to use her vulnerability.  “Gaviwyr wouldn’t say something like that, he is loyal to Eomer.  But even if he did, just because he may think I deserve better doesn’t mean he wants me for himself.  You are too easily intrigued, Oli”

Olihre took a deep, dramatic breath and lay back again, putting his arms behind his head.  “Whatever you want to think Xan, but have you noticed that Gav and Eomer haven’t exactly been friendly to each other lately?”

Xanthe shook her head, unwilling to entertain thoughts that would give her any hope of happiness.  She couldn’t afford to expose herself again-- the pain of rejection was just too much.  “Why would you be telling me this Oli?  You did after all call the King an Orc, and Gaviwyr a daemon, did you not?”

Olihre nodded.  Why was he telling her this?  He certainly wasn’t trying to play matchmaker…was he?  “I don’t want you with Eomer, you already know that.  Gaviwyr though, he doesn’t threaten me so much.”

Xanthe let out an exasperated laugh and said, “Doesn’t threaten you?  So is it to be that anyone I associate with has to cater to your whims?”

Olihre grinned and nodded.  “Of course, I am your older brother.  It is my job to protect you.”

Xanthe stood and walked to her window, looking out at the courtyard below.  “And what are you protecting me from?”

Olihre shook his head, he honestly didn’t know.  “I only know that I don’t want to see you hurt.  You deserve the best, whoever it is.”  Olihre realized as he said the words that they were exactly the ones that he had heard Gaviwyr mutter a few days prior. 

Xanthe smiled and turned towards her brother.  “I appreciate your concern, as always.  Don’t become too invested in finding me a mate though, I fear it will only frustrate you, if not put you to sleep.”

Olihre laughed out loud and was about to commence in teasing his little sister but for a knock on the door.  “Come in!” he called.

The door opened a crack and Gaviwyr stuck his head in, not at all surprised at having heard Olihre’s voice, or at seeing him on Xanthe’s bed.  He smiled at Xanthe, who stood at the window, her face illuminated by the setting sun.  “Dinner will be served in an hour.  I gave Olihre some clothing; do you have need of any formal dinner wear?”

Xanthe shook her head, slightly embarrassed that she had not thought to change into one of her dresses, but rather had just put on another pair of traveling clothes.  “No, I have a dress.  I’ll look appropriate for dinner, don’t worry.”

Gaviwyr nodded, looking over to Olihre who was regarding him with a discerning eye.  “Anything wrong Oli?” Gaviwyr said, using his familiar name.

Olihre narrowed his eyes at Gaviwyr and smiled.  “Nothing, Gav.” he said with a falsetto voice.

Xanthe furrowed her brows and tried to make sense of the two men in her room.  She looked at Gaviwyr and noted his beautifully tailored leggings, not the usual khaki or brown color that Gaviwyr usually wore, but a light blue instead.  He wore a matching tunic, darker blue with light blue trimming.  His thick brown hair, which was usually pulled back, was now loose around his face, the waves combed and tamed with some sort of balm. 

Gaviwyr turned back to Xanthe and noticed that she was staring at him.  He was suddenly nervous, but determined not to show it.  “You think I should have kept my hair pulled back?” he said with his eyes looking ever so hopeful.

Xanthe smiled, she knew that he was teasing her.  “No, it looks decent.  I was just wondering how long you had to plead with Legolas to convince him to help you with it.”

Gaviwyr feigned hurt and pulled his hands to his heart.  “I had to promise him my firstborn.” he said without a hint of a smile. 

Xanthe however had not missed the ever present twinkle in his eye.  “Well then you had better be off!”

“Off to what?” Gaviwyr laughed.

“Ladies don’t woo themselves,” Xanthe insisted.  “I know elves are immortal, but I am not sure Legolas is going to want to wait as long as it may take for you to acquire a firstborn, not at the rate you are going anyway.”

Instead of the smile she expected to see on Gaviwyr’s strong face, Xanthe instead found a pensive look.  “I hope that wasn’t too much…” she began, thinking that somehow she had managed to cross a line with Gaviwyr that she hadn’t even known existed. 

“No,” Gaviwyr assured her, “You have just gotten me to thinking, that’s all.”  With that he backed up and exited the room, calling to them that he would be back shortly to escort them to dinner.

When he had left, Xanthe turned to Olihre and gave him a questioning look.  Olihre only laughed and hopped up off of the bed.  “Ask yourself this Xan-- Are you willing to give Legolas your firstborn child?”  With that Olihre walked out the door.  “Get changed, I’ll be back before Gav is.”

Xanthe groaned and threw herself onto her bed, her emotions doing battle between themselves, leaving Xanthe very tired, and very

Chapter Seventeen- Royalty

Like clockwork, Olihre arrived in Xanthe’s chamber almost an hour after he had departed.  He still wore his fine dinner clothes, but Xanthe could see that they were slightly wrinkled.  “Have you been sleeping?” she teased him, already knowing the answer to her question.

Olihre tilted his head slightly to the side and raised his shoulders with his palms upturned.  “What else was I to do while waiting?  I am not exactly at leave to wander around the palace, although I did stop in the atrium.”

“Did you?” Xanthe was automatically suspicious.  Olihre was not the type who enjoyed wandering in gardens and soaking up natures influences.  He was never happy unless he was outdoors, but only because he loved his horses so.  “And what was there to see in the atrium?”

Olihre did not miss the inference in Xanthe’s voice and couldn’t stop the grin and slight blush upon his cheeks.  “Well, there were flowers, of course, and shrubs of many varieties, and…there was the loveliest woman.”

Xanthe nodded her head knowingly.  “I never knew you were interested in women, Oli!  You seem to prefer the company of your horses above all others.”

Olihre resisted the urge to swat his little sister and instead wandered to a chair beside the door.  “I have had plenty of experiences with women,” he mumbled, his voice rather hesitant, “but not with any like her.  She was remarkable…you should have seen her, Xan.  I would have sworn she was elvish if she had not assured me otherwise.”

“Elvish?” Xanthe repeated, trying to imagine her brother with such a creature.  She looked at him and had to admit that he was charming, in a rather unrefined way.  His dark blonde hair was unruly with its tousled curls, and he was rarely clean-shaven for more than one day a week.  His dark green eyes had to be his best feature.  They could draw you in and hold you until you entirely forgot your purpose.  They did not sparkle with mischief as Gaviwyr’s deep brown eyes did, but their depths held plenty of secrets.

Olihre watched as his sister surveyed him, and did his best to stand at attention, not smiling or giving her any indication that he was at all humored by her.  Xanthe noticed this mocking display and glared at him.  “Hmmm…” she said casually, “I suppose you may have a chance.”

Olihre didn’t even try to control himself this time as he swatted Xanthe playfully.  “You don’t approve then?  You can aim high, but I cannot?”

Xanthe backed away quickly and put the chair between them.  “Well, my aim isn’t elvish…” she began.

Olihre shook his head in disapproval and with one quick gesture picked up the heavy chair and set it down beside him.  He then lunged at Xanthe and caught her by the arm, picking her up and easily throwing her onto the huge bed.  She landed with an “ooofff!” and tried to roll over, but Olihre had already picked up several large pillows and was one by one bombarding her with them.  “Your aim is an oaf!” he said matter-of-factly, not letting up on his ceaseless campaign.  It wasn’t until he heard a knock on the door that he halted, pillow in midair.  Xanthe groaned from somewhere beneath the avalanche of pillows.

Gaviwyr raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated display of curiosity as he entered the room.  “I wondered if perhaps you were being attacked by Goblins!”  Gaviwyr took in Xanthe’s sprawled out form as she tried desperately to rid herself of the heavy pillows that were lying in disorder over her legs.  She then stood as gracefully as she could, smoothing her skirts and trying to arrange her hair.  Gaviwyr laughed, “I think I am better off if I don’t ask.”

Xanthe felt her face growing warm as she cleared her throat and tried to maintain some air of dignity.  “We were having a disagreement.”

Gaviwyr chuckled and turned to Olihre, “Just be glad you didn’t wrinkle that beautiful dress of hers, though her hair is now worse than my own.”

Xanthe glared at Gaviwyr, though she knew he had done nothing but tell her the truth.  Her elaborate upsweep was now a horrid mess.  “Is dinner starting…do I have time to fix this?” 

Gaviwyr shook his head, “Dinner is being served; we must hurry.” 

Xanthe groaned as she took the pins out of her hair.  “It took me so long to do this…” she muttered.  Finally, after the last pin was released, sending her hair into a long cascade of gold down her back, she ran her fingers through it, shook her head a bit, and then walked out of her room without looking at either of the two men who irked her so.

*          *          *

Xanthe had to slow down at the end of the hallway, allowing the two men to catch up to her.  “Which way?” she asked.

Gaviwyr smiled and swept past her, resisting the urge to touch her crimped and tousled hair.  “Follow me.”

Olihre and Xanthe followed quietly, both of them trying to control their racing hearts.  Olihre knew he would likely see the woman from the atrium at dinner, and Xanthe knew that she would have to see Eomer again.  As they approached the large doors leading into the banquet hall, Gaviwyr turned to face them. 

“Let me brief you on who is in attendance so that you do not feel behind.  Prince Imrahil and his daughter are in attendance tonight, as well as King Elessar, Queen Arwen, Legolas, Eowyn, and Faramir.  Eomer is already inside, awaiting our arrival.

Xanthe paled slightly at the mention of so many distinguished names.  “Are you sure we are meant to dine here?  We can take our meals in the kitchen…”

Gaviwyr only shook his head and laughed, pulling open the double doors and walking nonchalantly into the room.  All of the faces around the table looked up upon their entering.  “Your Highnesses, Lords and Ladies, may I present King Eomer’s trusted healer Xanthe, and her brother, Olihre.”

Xanthe tried not to groan as she heard the words ‘trusted healer,’ but managed to smile convincingly enough.  She nodded at Gaviwyr and took his arm as he led her to her seat at the table, beside Legolas.  She looked perplexed as she searched out the other empty spots at the table, wondering why she and her brother had been separated.  Gaviwyr promptly took his seat on Xanthe’s other side, while Olihre led himself hesitantly to the only other empty chair at the round table, between King Elessar and Prince Imrahil. 

When all were seated, King Elessar rose and raised his hand in the traditional welcome.  “It is good to have old friends together,” he began… 

Xanthe shifted uncomfortably.

 “…and new ones,” he continued. 

Xanthe watched as many eyes at the table shifted towards her.

The King continued, “We are honored to receive as guests Prince Imrahil and his daughter, Lothiriel from Dol Amroth.”  He then turned towards Faramir, and chuckled.  “We are also pleased to have Faramir back; he has been toiling away in Ithilien, impatiently awaiting the length of the traditional engagement.”

Many around the table laughed appreciatively.  Xanthe couldn’t help feeling that this introduction was being given entirely for her benefit as well as Olihre’s.  She assumed that all present knew each other, as only royalty would.  She tried to maintain eye contact with the King who was looking at her with amusement in his grey eyes, but found that she could not.  Instead, she leaned forward slightly in order to look at her brother who sat beside the king.  She was surprised to see that he wasn’t regarding Elessar at all, but rather, was staring sheepishly at Imrahil’s daughter, who in turned was looking at Eomer. 

Xanthe stiffened and tried not to look at the King of the Mark.  Instead she searched the table for a distraction, and found one.  A pair of brown eyes, not unlike Eomer’s, stared back at her.  Xanthe furrowed her brow and looked down at the table, which seemed to be the only safe place for her attentions.  When she chanced to look up again, she found those eyes still staring, no…glaring at her.  Now Eowyn is upset with me too?  Luckily, the servants appeared out of nowhere and began setting plates of food in front of the guests, providing a welcome relief.

As the guests commenced in eating, stories were tossed about, memories were relived, and all in attendance seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely.  Xanthe smiled and nodded when comments were made in her direction; she even uttered a few complete sentences when she was pressed upon by others, but for the most part, she tried to focus on eating her food, without making eye contact with anyone at the table.  It was only when she heard her name being mentioned that she dared look towards the side of the table that housed the glaring brown eyes.  Faramir was laughing at a comment that Eomer had made regarding the extreme pace that had been set during the last two days of their journey. 

“I would be anxious to arrive as well if I were traveling with the two of you!”  Lothiriel teased, as she looked at Eomer with rapt attention.

“Gav and I aren’t all that bad,” Eomer started, but not before glancing furtively in Xanthe’s direction.  She had her head bowed, but Eomer could tell that she was listening.  He then turned to Gaviwyr who was looking at him strangely, with no clear expression on his face.  “Anyway,” he continued, “we are here now, and though the animals will likely get more rest than we will, we are glad of it.”

Lothiriel laughed lightly, and the noise was annoyingly pleasant to Xanthe’s ears.  “What a beautiful dress you wear,” she said to Xanthe, who was still regarding her plate with undivided attention.  When Xanthe did not look up, or even acknowledge the compliment, Lothiriel tried again.  “Tell me Xanthe, where did you acquire such a beautiful elvish dress?”

Xanthe looked up quickly, aware that she had somehow lost the conversation.  “I’m sorry,” she began smoothly, “I received this dress from my mother…as a congratulatory present.  I am not sure where she acquired it.”

Lothiriel smiled warmly, but Xanthe couldn’t help but feel that it was more patronizing than sincere.  “How sweet!  Congratulations for what?”

Xanthe refrained from rolling her eyes, but couldn’t quite hide the edge in her voice.  “For being accepted as Palace Healer in Edoras.”  Xanthe looked around, aware that all at the table were now involved in the conversation.

Legolas was the first to break the unacknowledged tension.  “It is most certainly elvish…not even my eyes can detect the delicate stitching.”

Xanthe smiled appreciatively at him and turned to Olihre, who was still staring at Lothiriel.  Apparently nobody found his behavior odd, as none at the table even glanced at him.  “Oli,” Xanthe began, giving her brother a moment to collect his wits.  “Geylof often brought Mum presents; do you suppose this is one of them?”

Olihre shrugged his shoulders and remarked, “I honestly couldn’t say, though it seems likely.  Where else would she get it?”

Xanthe just nodded, realizing that she was only making small talk in order to avoid any more questions.  She tried desperately to think how she could continue the conversation, and was becoming quite frustrated when Gaviwyr broke through the strain in her head. 

“Legolas,” he asked, “You don’t happen to know the Lorien elf, do you?”

Legolas smiled, “I have heard mention of him, though I have not met him, nor his lovely wife.”

Gaviwyr nodded and turned to Xanthe.  “How long has it been since you have seen him?” 

Xanthe was fully prepared to answer Gaviwyr’s question until she realized she wasn’t sure.  She counted the days by the events that had occurred on each one and realized that though it seemed like eternity since her family had left Minas Tirith, it was in reality, no more than a month.  “I suppose I haven’t seen him in almost a month,” she hesitated, “though it seems like so much longer.”

Gaviwyr looked pensive for a moment and then turned to Aragorn.  “Your Majesty, do you suppose we could have him located and brought here?  I am sure the reunion would be appreciated by both.”

Xanthe’s eyes widened in terror, she couldn’t believe that Gaviwyr had just asked the King to do her a favor.  “I appreciate it Gaviwyr, but I really don’t want to bother His Maj…”

“It is no trouble!” Aragorn interjected forcefully.  “He is still employed here as a Healer, though I admit I haven’t seen him around much.  It would be my pleasure to locate him for you.”

Xanthe tried to smile but settled on a penitent nod of the head when her lips refused to accommodate.  “Thank you, Your Highness.”

*          *          *

When dinner was over, it was decided that all of the guests would convene in the library to visit among each other.  Xanthe felt confident that she would be excused from this responsibility, since she really wasn’t involved in the affairs of anyone present.  She was mistaken.

“Shall we?” Gaviwyr asked, though he was already hitching his arm around Xanthe’s and leading her towards the library.

Xanthe knew she should have just graciously accepted, but she thought there might still be hope of dismissal.  “Do I really have to?”

Gaviwyr’s smile faded and formed a slight pout.  “I suppose not, but I…we would appreciate your presence.”

Xanthe saw the disappointment in Gaviwyr’s eyes and mentally kicked herself for her thoughtlessness.  “I apologize.  I just feel like I am an intruder among old friends.  I don’t really feel I belong here.”

Gaviwyr surprised Xanthe by smiling enormously.  “Good, then it seems I am not the only one here who feels slightly awkward.”

“You could not tell I felt awkward?” Xanthe began, and then suddenly, as his words finally registered, “YOU feel awkward here?”

Gaviwyr nodded, a serious look overtaking his charming face.  “I could tell that you felt a bit uncomfortable, but I suppose I thought it was due more to Eomer’s presence than anyone else’s.”

Xanthe couldn’t understand why, but she suddenly felt very embarrassed.  She didn’t want to talk about Eomer in front of Gaviwyr.  She had her brother for that, and Gaviwyr certainly wasn’t her brother.  She looked into his playful eyes and changed the subject.  “Why would you be uncomfortable here?  You are Eomer’s best friend.”

“I am, and always have been, but when he became King he assumed a different role than the one I have always known him in.  He has not changed at heart, he is still the same man I have always admired, but his responsibilities are different.”

“But why would that make you uncomfortable?” Xanthe asked.

“I know and love Eowyn, Faramir, and Legolas, but I hardly know King Elessar or Queen Arwen, not to mention the Prince or his daughter.  Not that I don’t want to know them, it is just that I feel I am intruding upon royal affairs.”

“That is exactly how I feel!  You put it into words much more precisely than I ever could.”   

Gaviwyr laughed and took Xanthe’s hand in his, “I propose then an evening of comfort, rather than awkwardness.”

Xanthe raised her eyebrows at Gaviwyr.  “What do you propose?”

“Let’s skip the royal hob knobbing and go cause trouble!”

Xanthe laughed, though she really wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘trouble.’  “I am afraid I have caused enough trouble as it is!”

“I will cover for you if we are caught,” Gaviwyr said, as he looked around quickly before pulling Xanthe out of the Banquet Hall and down a corridor, opposite of the library.

*          *          *

Olihre smiled as he watch Gaviwyr pull his sister away.  The last thing he heard was Xanthe’s incredulous voice demanding, “Caught at what?”

Chapter Eighteen- Trouble

Olihre wasn’t the only one who saw Gaviwyr leading Xanthe out of the banquet hall and down the corridor, away from the library.  Legolas and Aragorn exchanged amused looks, while Lothiriel and Eowyn smiled at each other, mischief twinkling in their eyes.  Eomer, however, was not so delighted.  Does he really think he can just whisk her away without me noticing?  It’s inappropriate, the two of them just disappearing.  It doesn’t reflect well upon me.

Lothiriel watched as Eomer stood with his eyes fixed to the spot where Xanthe and Gaviwyr had turned a corner and disappeared.  She leaned over to Eowyn and whispered, “I cannot read your brother’s moods; is now a good time to speak to him?”

Eowyn watched in annoyance as her brother didn’t even try to hide his interest in Xanthe’s parting.  He could at least feign royal manners.  She nodded and took Lothiriel’s hand.

Eomer watched as his sister walked towards him, leading a blushing and bejeweled Lothiriel.  If not for the love of my sister…  Eomer braced for what he knew could only be another of his sister’s well-intended set-up’s.  Eowyn had been trying to convince him that he should take a Queen ever since she herself had become engaged. 

“Eomer, how are you?” Eowyn asked, her voice honey sweet, but with a definite undertone of authority.

“I am fine Sister, just as I was a few moments ago when you saw me.”

Eowyn narrowed her eyes at her brother and gave him a warning look.  The display was interrupted when Lothiriel laughed lightly and touched Eomer on the arm.  “Did you enjoy dinner?” she asked him.

Eomer held in an aggravated groan.  Am I to make small talk all night?  “Yes mi’lady, it was quite a treat after such a long journey.” He knew that he would hear no end to the rantings of his sister if he did not begin to play along.  “And did YOU enjoy dinner?”

Lothiriel smiled sweetly and nodded.  “It was delicious, as expected.  His Majesty and the Queen are quite the hosts, are they not?”

Eomer nodded, not finding the will power to even attempt to make conversation about such a dull subject, so instead, he changed it.  “Your journey was longer than even ours, how did it fare?”  He glanced sidelong at his sister who looked fairly appeased, but still held a look of warning in her eyes.

Lothiriel, whose smile had never left her face, cocked her head to the side, ever so slightly as a wondrous light filled her eyes.  “It was wonderful!  I love to travel, even in this rainy season.  After an entire year cooped up in the city, I really needed to get away.”

Eomer, who until now had been nearly tearful with boredom, was suddenly curious.  “Why don’t we move into the library where it is warm, and you can tell me all about your journey.”

“What a wonderful idea,” Eowyn interrupted with a smile.  She then turned on her heel and walked away briskly, leaving Eomer to offer Lothiriel his arm. 

“Shall we?” he asked.  Lothiriel nodded and attached herself to him. 

Eomer smiled to himself as he noticed her tendency to lead him, even when it was he who held her arm.  Finally, someone with a little bit of spirit!  Even as his mind delivered the words, Xanthe’s face appeared, full of determination and strength.  Eomer felt a twinge of regret as he allowed himself to be led down the hallway, away from the only woman who had captured his attention, until now.               

*          *          *

“Will Eomer be upset that we are not there?” Xanthe asked as Gaviwyr led her swiftly down a maze of massive hallways.  The gleaming white stone was illuminated softly by candles set in brass sconces, lining the walls every few yards.

Gaviwyr felt a pang of guilt as he heard Eomer’s name.  What am I doing?  He reminded himself of his position as Eomer’s Captain and loyal friend.  And here I am sneaking around behind his back.

“Gav?” Xanthe wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he had stopped suddenly and dropped her hand, staring back down the corridor with an anxious look on his face.  “What’s wrong?”

Gaviwyr took in a sharp breath and turned to Xanthe, trying to hide the look on his face.  “He won’t miss us.” he said flatly.  What he had wanted to say was that Eomer wouldn’t miss them while he had the Princess around, but he knew that it would be insensitive and hurtful, even if it did force Xanthe to realize how futile it was for her to love the King.

Xanthe however, spoke the words for him.  “I don’t think he will either.  Not with his sister and her project to keep him company.”

Gaviwyr raised his eyebrows in obvious shock.  “What do you mean by that?” he asked carefully.

Xanthe smiled, but it did nothing to mask the strain of her voice.  “Eowyn was glaring at me all throughout dinner.  I am no fool Gav, I know a warning when I see one.  She does not want me anywhere near her brother, lest I interfere with her plans to marry him off to Lothiriel.”

Gaviwyr was surprised and impressed by Xanthe’s boldness.  “I did see her looking at you during dinner, though I hadn’t necessarily thought of it as glaring.  But I suppose if you are not used to Eowyn’s piercing gaze, it can certainly be perceived that way.”

Xanthe nodded, not wanting to push the issue.  She knew how close Gaviwyr was to Rohan’s royal family, and she would not make him choose sides.  “Either way, I am sure we’ll not be missed greatly.  What ARE we doing, anyway?”

Gaviwyr shrugged.  He had not planned to steal Xanthe away; he had merely acted upon a compulsion.  While sitting at dinner, all he could think about was how much he would like to spend time with Xanthe, away from judging eyes and stinging memories.  He had conveniently closed his mind to the voices of doubt that plagued him every moment of the day. 

...Do you really think she would choose you after she has felt the King’s strong arms around her?...You are a soldier, what can you offer her?...She treats you the same way she does her brother, that is all you will ever be to her... 

The voices began to creep back into his mind, talking over themselves, louder and louder in his head until he thought for sure that Xanthe could hear them.  “I suppose I hadn’t thought of anything specific,” he said soberly as he tried to concentrate.  “We can just return to the library, if you would prefer.”

Xanthe frowned and shook her head, wondering why Gaviwyr had suddenly gone from giddy to grim.  She moved closer to him and took his arm, turning him towards her.  “What’s wrong Gav?”

Gaviwyr looked at Xanthe’s confused face and saw the hurt that was in her eyes.  Not hurt that he had necessarily caused himself, but hurt that had always been there, and always would be there, ready to present itself at the first sign of disappointment.  Is her life such a sad story that she keeps her pain just under the surface, ready for when she needs its comfort again?  Will she ever find the strength to move on and allow herself to be free of its deceiving hold?

Gaviwyr wanted to put his arms around the young woman in front of him.  He wanted to comfort her and convince her that her life would be full of wonderful things, but he knew she would not want it, and he was too afraid.  He laughed quietly as he realized that the very thing that kept Xanthe from smiling genuinely was the same thing that kept him from comforting her-- fear.

“What are you laughing at?” Xanthe asked, the confused look on her face deepening. 

“Nothing,” he answered with a voice less sullen than before.  Looking into Xanthe’s sad eyes, Gaviwyr resolved to master his emotions and be the friend that she needed, even if that was all he could ever be.  “I admit,” he smiled sheepishly, “I do not know my way around the palace at all.  I was so eager to escape the party…I may have gotten us lost.”

“That’s why you’re upset…because we’re lost?”  Xanthe laughed.  “Why didn’t you just tell me?  You had me worried!”

Gaviwyr smiled ruefully, wishing that he could tell Xanthe just how lost he really was.  “I suppose it was my manly pride.  Anyhow, have you any idea where we are, or where we want to be?”

Xanthe shrugged, “You seem to have forgotten, I didn’t even know the way from my room to dinner tonight.”

Gaviwyr laughed heartily.  “Now that’s easy!  All you have to do is follow your nose!”

Xanthe gave him a look of mock-exasperation.  “Do I look like an elf?”

Gaviwyr was considering telling her that she really did, when an idea came to him.  “Let’s see if we can find your healer ourselves!”

Xanthe looked into Gaviwyr’s deep brown eyes, trying to detect any sign of jest, but he only stood there, patiently awaiting her reply.  “You’re serious?”

A smile twitched at the corners of Gaviwyr mouth.  He loved it when Xanthe was on the verge of excitement, but still trying to maintain a calm composure.  It was entertaining to watch the struggle.  “I most certainly am.  He does stay in the palace, does he not?”

Convinced that he was serious, Xanthe threw her arms around his neck and squealed, “Gav, you’re too wonderful for words!” 

Gaviwyr took Xanthe’s affection with pleasure, and even ventured to return the hug with a conservative squeeze.  His hopes were dashed however, when he felt her pat him on the back, just as he had seen her do while hugging her brother.  He pulled away suddenly, the voices of doubt in his head growing louder.  “Does he reside here?” he repeated the question more sternly than he had meant to.

Xanthe tried not to look bothered.  “He did when I last saw him; I see no reason why he wouldn’t still.  Gav…”

Before she could question him, Gaviwyr turned on his heel and headed off down the hallway, calling behind him, “Let’s make our way back to the banquet hall and ask one of the servers if they know of him.”

Xanthe fought the urge to plant her feet and throw a fit; however, she could see the stiffness in Gaviwyr’s walk, and she suspected that now would not be a good time to test his limits.  Instead, she ran to catch up to him, staying a few feet behind, trying her best to act as if nothing was wrong.

Gaviwyr turned his head slightly and glanced at Xanthe out of the corner of his eye.  She was walking quickly, matching his long stride.  Her head was down, arms folded in front of her.  Defensive stance… Gaviwyr noted to himself.  So she is wary of me…or perhaps weary.  Gaviwyr wanted to go to her, but he knew that he would only be torturing himself, wearing down his willpower.  I cannot allow myself to get too close to her.  I haven’t the strength.

The two walked silently for a few minutes before coming to a more brightly lit stretch of hallway, lined with potted trees and plants.  They both faintly remembered rushing through it, and knew that they were nearing the banquet hall.  Gaviwyr turned to Xanthe and gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned, but, Gaviwyr was pained to see, without sincerity.

“…it certainly was grand…the greatest feast we have had here in many months…guests certainly were polite…beautiful clothing…”

Snippets of conversation could be heard among the servants as they worked just beyond the doors where Gaviwyr and Xanthe stood.  When Gaviwyr entered with Xanthe trailing just a few feet behind him, the voices stopped and all in the room looked up from their work. 

“What can we do for you, Sir?” one man asked as he set down the pile of tableware he was holding.

Gaviwyr walked towards him, acknowledging him with a nod of his head.  “We were wondering if any of you might know the whereabouts of the Palace Healer, Geylof.”

The man wiped his hands on his pants as he shook his head.  “I am afraid not Sir.  One of our servers heard the elf being discussed during dinner.  She came back to the kitchen and asked if any of us knew his whereabouts, but I am afraid none of us have seen him for quite some time.”  The man looked around to the other servers for confirmation, before shrugging his shoulders and continuing.  “Geylof always was a bit elusive though.  He was always attending to the niece of one of the King’s horse trainers.  Practically lived there, even when she was healed…”

Xanthe blushed as the servant continued his explanation.  She knew that the man had no idea it was she that he spoke of.  She interrupted his story with a blunt question.  “I am sorry-- could you possibly show us to his room?”

The man furrowed his brow but nodded affirmatively.  “Not sure why you would want to go there, he hasn’t been there for some time, but if you insist…”

“I do.  Perhaps he left some clue as to where he was going.” Xanthe smiled sweetly, but her voice was full of impatience.

The man chuckled.  “Surely Miss, I can take you.  But he hasn’t move on, I can tell you that much.  The maid said that he and Lailei’s possessions are all still present.  Also, gossip spreads quickly throughout the palace, we would know if a new healer had been hired.  I suppose they are merely hiding out as only elves can.”  

Xanthe smiled and turned her gaze towards the door.  “Do you suppose we could go now, or are you too busy?”

The man glanced at the others who nodded with amusement.  “Let’s go then!” he said.

Chapter Nineteen- A Leap of Faith

Olihre sat in an overstuffed chair, holding a delicate wine goblet between his callused fingers, feeling very out of place.  A fire roared across from him, softly illuminating the face of one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.  In the atrium she had been intimidating enough, but now, her countenance was nearly paralyzing.  At dinner, when Aragorn had introduced her as the Princess of Dol Amroth, Olihre had been shocked, though he had later chastised himself for not assuming as much.  Immediately, Olihre vowed to himself that he would forget her.  Don’t be a fool, losing your head like your naive sister… 

Unfortunately, it had not been as simple as he had planned.  She sat across from him at dinner and didn’t once make eye contact with him, leaving him free and clear to stare at her in admiration without any uncomfortable exchanges.  After catching several questioning looks from Xanthe, Olihre had renewed his resolve to ignore her, but matters were only made worse when Aragorn had insisted that he join them in the library.

He sat now, listening absentmindedly to the conversations all around him.  Aragorn and the elf were discussing the best field fallowing cycles to follow in Ithilien.  Eowyn and Faramir were planning the last minute details of their wedding ceremony.  Imrahil and Arwen were reminiscing on the splendor of Imladris.  None of these conversations really mattered to Olihre; the only purpose that they served was to allow him respite from the torture he was enduring from Eomer and Lothiriel.

Since the moment they had arrived in the library, arm in arm, they had done nothing but stare into each other’s eyes, as if it were their very life support.  He had to sit there, unacknowledged by either of them, but fully involved in their tender conversations.  To make matters worse, Eowyn had been sending him warning glares since the moment he had sat down.  He wasn’t sure if it was because she somehow knew of his infatuation for Lothiriel, or because she knew of Xanthe’s past with Eomer, and was afraid that he was going to defend his sister.  Either way, Olihre knew without qualms that neither he nor Xanthe were welcome there as far as Eowyn was concerned, though he really wasn’t threatened, merely annoyed. 

Olihre had no delusions-- he knew that the Princess was nothing but an unattainable dream.  Even if Eomer were not in the way, she would never choose nor even be allowed to be with Olihre, and he was well aware of that fact.  He was merely enjoying her presence as long as he could, though it did bother him to see her with Eomer.  While Olihre no longer hated the King with a vengeance, he still did not particularly like him.  Not only had Eomer insisted on pursuing Xanthe after he had expressly forbid it, but he had then had the gall to hurt her.  Olihre had made a point of encouraging a relationship between Gaviwyr and his sister, hoping that she would soon forget the King.  The sooner the better, as it seems the King has already forgotten her.

Olihre broke his steady gaze aimed at Eomer and looked around him.  The dwarf that he had seen at the gates upon their arrival had joined Aragorn and Legolas.  He was loudly berating Legolas for sending him on a ‘goose chase all over the city in search of a confounded book!’

“I tell you Master Elf, it does not exist!  Neither the librarian here at the palace nor the owner of the bookshop in town has ever heard of it!” Gimli was stroking his axe in a rather disconcerting fashion.

Legolas only smiled and shook his head.  “Ah, but it does Gimli, I saw it here decades ago; we have only to find it.”  Turning to Aragorn, the elf grinned, “Should we send the King’s Guard after it?”

It seemed that the elf knew exactly how to rile the dwarf, and at that moment, Gimli looked positively irate.  “Rest assured you infuriating creature, if I could not find the book, no one who dwells herein ever will!  Either it does not exist, or it has taken on a personality of its own and does not want to be found!”    

Aragorn laughed merrily at this.  “Indeed, it may have!  It is after all a bestiary”*

Gimli shook his head in aggravation and turned back to Legolas.  “What do you need with such a book anyway?”

Legolas shrugged his shoulders.  “My father asked that I bring it back with me when I return home.  I suppose he has some use for it, though I know not what.”

“Perhaps he is keeping a tally of all the fell creatures that are at this moment being eliminated from Mirkwood.” Aragorn jested.

Legolas humored the King with a laugh and turned back to the Dwarf.  “Friend Gimli, did you perhaps encounter a Lorien elf and his wife along your ‘goose-chase’?’”

Gimli raised his eyebrows and looked at Legolas as if he were a raving lunatic.  “No Master Elf, I assure you, if I had encountered another of your troublesome kind, I would have certainly mentioned it.  One elf alone is more than I can handle, two would be most unfortunate.”

Legolas seemed to be debating whether or not he should sink to the dwarf’s level of insult, or remaining ‘infuriatingly’ aloof.  He chose the latter.  “Yes, well, if you do happen upon one, please let him know that he is greatly sought after by our guests from Edoras.”

Gimli shook his head, muttering to himself as Legolas turned to Olihre and asked, “What exactly was your family’s relationship with Geylof and Lailei?”

Olihre was happy for the distraction, but hesitated, not being quite sure what to say.  “My uncle Noradol was one of Dethenor’s Master Horse Trainers.  Because of that position, we were able to secure the services of the palace healers.  Geylof was only one of many healers at the time, and we saw several come and go during the first few months, but eventually, if was only Geylof who would come.  Sometimes he would bring Lailei with him.  They became like family to us, we saw them almost daily.”

Gimli rested his axe against the fire place and perched on the rock mantle in front of it.  “The first few months of what?” he asked.

Olihre was thankful that Xanthe was not present; she hated speaking of her sickness.  To her it was still an open wound that she refused to let heal.  “My sister’s illness,” he said bluntly.

“Ah,” Gimli replied, “and how many months did this continue?”

Olihre bit his lip and replied, “Four years worth; the better part of her childhood.”

Aragorn furrowed his brow, “Well, she looks no worse for wear, and she certainly is spirited.”  Turning to Eomer and throwing him the most devilish of looks, Aragorn asked, “And where is your Healer now, King Eomer?”

Eomer had been enjoying his conversation with Lothiriel, ignoring the goings on of the rest in the group-- that is until he had heard the conversation turn to Xanthe.  Looking at Aragorn, he narrowed his eyes in a most undignified manner.  “I suppose Gaviwyr has escorted her back to her chambers.”

“Really?” Aragorn continued.  “Well, I do wish them the best of luck, for the hallway that they turned down does not lead to the chambers at all.”

Eomer shifted in his seat, flashing a murderous look at Aragorn.  “They are adults, I suppose they can find there way around well enough.”  With that Eomer turned back to Lothiriel, shaking his head in annoyance.  “Children…” he could be heard muttering to her.      

Aragorn merely laughed and looked at Olihre.  “I hope you do not think that we are having a laugh at your sister’s expense, for I assure you, it is Eomer whom I wished to rile, not you.

In fact, Olihre had been rather offended about the King’s suggestions at first, but as soon as he saw the look on Eomer’s face, his anger disappeared.  “Not at all, Your Majesty.  Gaviwyr is a noble man, I am sure my sister is quite safe with him.  Xanthe never has enjoyed public gatherings very much.  No doubt they are strolling somewhere, enjoying the clear night.”

*          *          *

Gaviwyr bumped his knee into yet another protruding stone in the wall.  “Oh for crying…”

“Is there something wrong Captain?” Xanthe shouted back at him, suppressing a giggle.

Gaviwyr had been following Xanthe and the servant for some time now, winding his way around pitch black hallways, leading somewhere into the center of the enormous palace.  Yes something is wrong, you two are content with your torch, but I haven’t any light to guide me!  “Nothing…how much further?”

Xanthe smiled to herself.  The hallways in the servant’s quarters were very narrow, only wide enough for two people abreast to journey.  She and the servant were walking in front, with a torch to guide them, while Gaviwyr hung back.  Xanthe knew that he couldn’t possibly see more than a foot in front of him. 

“Not long,” the servant called back to him.  “Geylof and Lailei requested the corner chambers when they arrived here.  They have a wonderful view of the gardens…ah, here we are.”

The servant stopped outside a wooden door and took out a large ring of keys which he used to open it.  Stepping inside, he waved his torch around, “Just as I suspected, nobody here.”

Xanthe brushed by him and made her way to a lamp sitting on a large mahogany writing table.  Turning it up to its brightest, she glanced around.  “But all of their things are still here, so they will no doubt return.  Perhaps I could leave a note?”

The servant shrugged, “Fine by me, but I had better be getting back to the banquet hall now.  Do you two suppose you can find your way back alone?”

Gaviwyr let out a snort and was about to say something sarcastic when Xanthe interrupted.  “Of course we can, and thank you so much for all of your help.”

“Surely Miss, it was a pleasure.”  With that the man backed out of the room and shut the door.  Xanthe immediately walked over to the writing desk and took out a piece of parchment. 

Dear Ones,

Olihre and I are visiting Minas Tirith with the court of Meduseld.  We would so love to see you both and hope that we shall have the chance before our return to Edoras in three weeks.  If you get this correspondence in a timely manner, please stop by our quarters in the west wing of the palace or ask around and you shall certainly find us!  We miss you so and cannot wait to see you again! 

Love always, Xanthe and Olihre

Post Script~ We hope you do not mind our intrusion into your quarters; we only wanted evidence that you were still here!

Gaviwyr looked on as Xanthe dusted the fresh ink and blew it into a cloud of white powder.  “I’m sorry we didn’t find them here,” he said quietly.

Xanthe looked back at him at smiled.  “I am sure they will show up.  They have always been welcome to come and go from the palace as they please.  Being cooped up in dimly lit stone chambers is not a situation Elves enjoy.”

Gaviwyr nodded.  “Speaking of dimly lit stone chambers, how do you suppose we are going to find our way back to the banquet hall?”

Xanthe only shrugged.  “It can’t be that hard.  We only made a few turns, here and there.”

Gaviwyr raised his eyebrows in obvious pleasure at knowing something that Xanthe didn’t.  “Ah, but you forget, the servant took the torch with him.  We shall have no light to aid us.”

Xanthe had not considered that at all, and she assumed that the servant had overlooked it as well.  She looked around the chambers for a torch but found nothing but the crystal and brass lamp that was currently lit.  “We certainly cannot take their lamp, it is far too valuable, not to mention heavy.  I suppose elves have no need of torches, since they can see in the dark.”

Gaviwyr chuckled.  “I suppose we will have to make due.  Luckily I have had some practice just now, and have developed quite a few techniques to keep from bruising on the hard walls.”

Xanthe laughed.  “If you had walked closer behind us you would have had plenty of light!”

Gaviwyr only nodded knowingly and blew out the lamp on the table, leaving them in complete darkness save the faint amount of moonlight that was penetrating the glass pained windows.  If Eomer could see us now…  Gaviwyr heard Xanthe’s chair scoot back and her footsteps approaching him.  Before he had a chance to say anything he felt her small hands grasping in the dark, brushing across his chest.

“Oh…sorry,” she began.

Gaviwyr quickly took her hands, grateful for the darkness that hid his smile.  “Not a problem My Lady, just follow me.”  Gaviwyr kept one hand out in front of him, feeling his way along the walls, while the other held Xanthe’s hands closely to his side.  Soon enough they had made there way out the door and a few yard down the hall, when they came to a turn where the hall split into two directions. 

“Do you remember which way we came from?” Gaviwyr asked Xanthe. 

“Yes,” she replied.  “We came from the right fork-- I remember seeing the other hallway as we approached.  It was on our left at the time.  Now we are turned around…well, you get the idea.”

Gaviwyr chuckled, “Yes, but I enjoyed hearing you simplify it for me…”  Gaviwyr stopped when he felt Xanthe push him playfully, her hands still caught up in his. 

“Anyway,” she said with exasperation, “are you ever going to tell me what was bothering you so much earlier?  I believed you when you told me it was because we were lost, but now I am not so sure, as we are even more lost right now and it doesn’t seem to be affecting your mood at all.”

Gaviwyr groaned and rolled his eyes.  “You really should learn when to drop a subject, you know?”

Xanthe decided that now would be a good time to plant her feet and insist that Gaviwyr tell her what was bothering him.  “Honestly Gav, I thought you trusted me?” 

Evil woman…  Gaviwyr turned around and tightened his grip on Xanthe’s hands.  “I was just worried about you.”  It’s partly the truth…

Xanthe felt her face redden.  “Why?  I was fine, except for wondering why YOU were so upset.”

Gaviwyr took a step closer to her and dropped her hands, moving his own up to her shoulders, which he held firmly.  “It isn’t so much that moment that I was worried about…it’s just…you always seem…upset…about something.”  Gaviwyr was having a terrible time trying to get the words out into a cohesive sentence.

Xanthe felt the red in her cheeks pale significantly.  “I am fine Gav, really.”  Her voice turned distant.

Gaviwyr brought one of his hands up to her cheek and lightly brushed it.  “I can see the pain in your eyes Xan-- I wish I couldn’t, but it’s there.”

Just let him in you foolish girl… Xanthe was uncomfortable and reacted in the only way she knew how.  “Gav, what must I do to convince you?  I am fine!  I don’t need you to take care of me like some tiny little child.  I have always done just fine on my own!”

“Really?” he said with exasperation, “you didn’t seem fine at dinner tonight!  You didn’t seem fine when you rode off on your own.  You didn’t seem fine when I read your p…” Gaviwyr hesitated, realizing too late what he was saying.

“Read what?” Xanthe shouted, horror filling her voice.  

Gaviwyr let go of her shoulders and took a step back.  The darkness that surrounded them did nothing to hide the anger in Xanthe’s voice.  Even so, he was surprised when he heard labored breaths coming from near the floor.  “Xan…”

“How could you?” She was sitting against the wall, arms wrapped around her legs.  “I can’t believe you…I trusted you!”

Gaviwyr knelt down, reaching out in the darkness to find her hand, only to feel his being swatted away.  “Don’t!” she shouted. 

Gaviwyr felt as though he had been drawn through.  He tried again to reach out to her, but she quickly scooted away.  Finally he gave up and sat back against the wall a few feet from her.  “I am so sorry Xanthe, I didn’t mean to.”

“Didn’t mean to what-- read it or give yourself away?”  She was no longer crying, her voice had turned cold and bitter.  Gaviwyr could almost taste her hatred of him.

“I didn’t mean to read it, not initially, but when I found it while we were packing…I couldn’t help myself.”  When he received no reply he continued.  “I only saw a few pages; random things about your family’s journey, and then that poem-- the one about the evergreen.  It was so sad.”

Again, nothing but silence.

“Xan…?”

Xanthe exploded through the silence like a firecracker.  “How convenient Captain!  Tell me, do you and His Majesty sit around and come up with such ridiculous excuses together?  Twice this month already I have heard that-- ‘I couldn’t help myself…’  Is there anything you two can control, or do you blame it all on some supernatural driving force…”

“Xanthe you are being unfair!  Haven’t you ever been in a situation where you are so caught up in matters of the heart that nothing logical can penetrate that emotion?”

Xanthe’s normally quick tongue wasn’t quite sure what to say to that.  “Matters of the heart?  You were reading my journal…my private thoughts!”

Gaviwyr silently scooted just bit closer to her, “And I care about you, so when I was given an opportunity, ANY opportunity to be closer to you, I took it.  Yes, it was foolish and thoughtless, but can you truly blame me?

Xanthe felt an unfamiliar fluttering in her stomach and she knew that she would quickly lose this argument if she pondered his words for very long, so instead she raced on.  “Yes, I can blame you!  Allowing yourself to be led by emotions is a weakness, Captain.”

Gaviwyr hated the formal tone that she was taking with him.  “And I suppose that if you had stumbled across Eomer’s personal thoughts without anyone around to inhibit you, you would have easily tossed them aside?  You can’t tell me you would want to know what he feels for you!”

Xanthe had nothing to say to that.  He’s right.  You were so eager, so infatuated, you wouldn’t have thought twice before invading his privacy…  “Maybe so Gav, but it would have been different.  I would only have done it if it concerned love…you were just curious, bored maybe.”

If there had been any light at all in the hallway, Xanthe would have seen the truly frustrated look that marred Gaviwyr’s face.  “Am I the slow one here or is it you?” he groaned.

Xanthe’s heart skipped a beat.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Is it lack of desire or simply an inability to comprehend all of the hints that I am throwing at you that keeps you from responding?”

Xanthe’s head was now spinning.  She wished that she could see his face, read his features to obtain some sort of idea what he was talking about.  “Gav, speak in a language I understand, please!  Stop ‘hinting’ and tell me, what is it you want from me?”

That was all the permission that Gaviwyr needed.  He reached out in the darkness and took Xanthe’s arm, pulling her close to him.  “This is what I want,” he replied with a longing whisper, expecting her to push him away again.  But she didn’t.  He felt her tense in his arms as he ran his thumb across her forehead and down the side of her ear.  “I want you…and I want you to want me.”  Gaviwyr felt Xanthe catch her breath and hold it, saying nothing.  He released his grip and moved away from her.  “A foolish desire is it not?  How could you want me when you have had him?  It is a dream.”

Xanthe felt hot tears wash over her eyes.  She reached out for Gaviwyr, but he had moved too far away.  The hurt in his voice was beyond anything she had imagined he could feel.  “I’m so sorry,” she said through choking sobs that she dutifully kept silent as they wracked her entire body.

Gaviwyr could hear the strain in her voice and understood somehow that it was not a rejection, but a plea for forgiveness.  He could hear her sharp intakes of breath after each silent sob, and he quickly moved back to her, finally being able to take her into his arms without worry.  “No Xan, I’m sorry.  I only wanted to be closer to you.  I never meant to hurt you.  Please forgive my cowardice, I beg you.”

The only reply that Gaviwyr received was a tightened grip around his waist as he held her and rocked her like a child until her breathing returned to normal and her muscles relaxed.  They sat like that for many minutes, in the blessed silence and calm of the dark hallway.  It wasn’t until they both heard a voice coming from no more than five feet away that they broke their embrace.

“You may be more comfortable on a sofa than on that stone floor,” the voice said lightly.

Gaviwyr stiffened and moved to stand but Xanthe caught his arm and pulled him back down.  “It’s Geylof!” she whispered to him as she struggled to stand while still holding Gaviwyr’s arm in hers.  He supported her, helping her up, all while squinting into the darkness, trying to locate the voice.

“My darling child, how wonderful it is to see you!” this time the voice belonged to a female. 

“Lailei!” Xanthe cried as the elf took her free hand, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“How we have missed you, Sweet One, though we certainly never expected to find you here!”

Gaviwyr suddenly felt the need to explain himself to these unseen beings.  “I realize what this must look like, but I assure you…”

Geylof interrupted him, placing his arm on Gaviwyr’s shoulder.  “There is no need Captain, we do not doubt either of your integrity.”

“But how do you know who I am?” Gaviwyr asked as he subconsciously tightened his grip on Xanthe’s hand. 

They heard both Elves laugh before Lailei interjected, “We ran into a rather perturbed dwarf only a moment ago who alerted us to your presence.”

Gaviwyr shook his head slightly.  “I haven’t even seen Gimli since yesterday…”

“He was in the library with the others just now-- Prince Legolas seemed to delight in pointing us out to him.  Olihre was there also and insisted that we find you at once.”

Xanthe laughed and released Gaviwyr’s hand as she threw her arms around the maiden.  “How I have longed to see you!  Though I suppose we can’t actually SEE anything…we are somewhat lost.”

Geylof said something very quietly to his wife and then took Gaviwyr’s arm while Lailei took Xanthe’s.  “Come, we shall lead you back.” he said.  Xanthe smiled and reached out in the darkness once more, finding Gaviwyr’s hand and keeping it for only a moment before the narrowing hallway forced her to release it.

Gaviwyr held on to her hand as long as he could, dreading the moment when he could no longer feel her.  He smiled to himself as he realized the SHE had taken HIS hand, not the other way around.  It wasn’t until after they had wandered the halls for some time that a shadow of doubt entered his mind as he realized that they would soon be facing Eomer.   It was quickly chased away however as he heard Xanthe speaking softly to her old friends.  Her voice was clear and calm, the tension that had always been there had faded into the darkness.  No, her love is worth any consequence I may face… even the loss of a best friend and a respected title. 

This thought comforted Gaviwyr for the remainder of their journey.  But soon he could see a faint glow of light ahead and hear mingling voices…and the doubt returned.

*          *          *

*A book of beasts and other living creatures.  I just bought David Day’s “Guide to Tolkien’s World- A Bestiary.”  It is magnificent!

Chapter Twenty- Scheming Undone

Eomer was absorbed in Lothiriel’s sweet voice as she recounted stories from her childhood.  He watched the way her dark hair caught the firelight, giving it the look of burnished obsidian.  Her deep eyes sparkled with mirth as she did her best impression of her childhood nanny.  He caught the pungent scent of her perfume as she leaned towards him amidst a most unladylike laugh.    Not even the recent appearance of two Lorien elves had distracted him from this dark jewel.    It wasn’t until he heard Aragorn greeting visitors that Eomer broke his concentration and looked around.

“You found them!” Olihre rose from his chair and moved forward to greet the party.  Geylof and Lailei had just entered the library, followed by Gaviwyr and Xanthe, who were still blinking their eyes, trying to adjust them to the bright light.

Xanthe gave her brother a discouraging look.  “It’s not like we journeyed to another city Oli, we were just down the hallway.”

Olihre laughed and winked rather obviously at Gaviwyr, who paled slightly before glancing hesitantly at Eomer.

Eomer caught his Captain’s gaze and held it for some time before turning and looking pointedly at Xanthe.  “I need to speak to you.”

Xanthe glanced up at the King, apprehension in her eyes.  She nodded carefully while giving Geylof and Lailei apologetic looks.  “I shouldn’t be long,” she whispered before looking questioningly at Olihre.

Olihre only raised his eyebrows and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.  He watched his sister walk out of the room, shoulders thrown back and head held high.  Defensive mode…I hope Eomer knows what he’s doing.

Out in the hallway Xanthe whirled around to meet the King head-on.  With her hands on her hips and her jaw set in a tight line, she raised her eyebrows, challenging him to confront her.

“Xanthe,” Eomer started with a regal air, oblivious to her silent challenge, “I understand that this is a new position for you, and therefore you may not be aware of protocol, but it is COMPLETELY unacceptable for you to go running off throughout the palace without even the slightest word to anyone.”  Eomer took a deep breath and braced himself against the slew of arguments he was sure would follow, but Xanthe stayed silent; the only acknowledgment she gave him was an apathetic glare. 

Eomer tried again. “Do you have anything to say or are you just going to stand there and let me assume the worst?” 

“The worst about what?” she spit out, her silent resolve snapping.

Eomer smiled slightly, pleased to have gotten at least some reaction out of the proud girl in front of him.  “Well…” he paused for dramatic effect, “you can’t just go running off with a handsome Captain and not expect people to assume things.”

“Don’t patronize me, Your Highness,” Xanthe said in a shaky voice, “you are last person to be speaking to me about men with bad intentions!”

Eomer’s tone quickly went from condescending to furious, “Bad intentions?  Is that what you think?  Let me remind you Madame, I may have kissed you at the river that night, but only after you practically threw yourself at me!  What were YOUR intentions?”

Xanthe felt her heart drop into her stomach.  She turned quickly, hoping that Eomer couldn’t see the wet shame glistening in her eyes.  “Forgive me Your Highness,” she croaked, “I had thought you cared for me…obviously I was mistaken.”  With that Xanthe walked quickly away, covering her face with her hands, willing herself not to cry.

“Xanthe, wait!” Eomer called out with booming authority.  He jogged to catch up and did not stop until he was nearly on top of her.  “Wait,” he said again, only this time it was more of a desperate plea than a command.  When Xanthe did not stop, Eomer grabbed her wrist and whirled her around sharply.  She winced in pain and pulled her hand back defensively, but he would not let go.  

“You are hurting me Your Highness!” she cried in a weak voice.

With a horrified look, Eomer dropped her wrist, only to take her by the shoulders and pull her back to him.  “Please, Xanthe…stop!  I am sorry…I didn’t mean it like that…”

Xanthe rolled her eyes and growled, “You are unbelievable!  You think you can do or say whatever you want and then just apologize and make everything better!”

Eomer groaned and released her shoulders, taking a deep breath and running his hands through his hair before sliding his back down the wall and collapsing on the cold, stone floor.

“What are you doing?”

Eomer looked up with painfully remorseful eyes, chipping away at Xanthe’s firm resolve.  “Please, sit…just for a moment.  I know I don’t deserve it, but I am begging you, please…I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Xanthe stared at him for a moment, trying to detect any sign of insincerity; when she found none she gathered her skirts into her hands and sat as gracefully as possible, trying to keep a discreet distance between herself and the King.  “I will listen.”

Eomer gave a forced smile.  “Thank you.”  He made to take Xanthe’s hand but retracted when he saw her stiffen.  “Sorry… I’m nervous.”

Xanthe frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest, “Nervous about what?”

Eomer just shook his head emphatically and laced his fingers together.  “I want to apologize…for everything.  I know it doesn’t mean much, but please believe me when I tell you that I am sincerely regretful.  I don’t know why it is so hard for me to confront my feelings in regards to you, but it is, and as a result, I have behaved horribly.”

“Your feelings in regards to me?”

This time Eomer had Xanthe’s hand before she realized what was happening.  “Xanthe I want you to know without a doubt that my intentions for you have never been anything but innocent.  I know it must be hard to believe, considering how I first came upon you, and what has happened since, but it’s the truth.  There is something about you that has always captured my attention.  Something within you that you refuse to show, but can’t fully hide.”

Xanthe just shook her head.  “I don’t understand…”

“Neither do I, though I HAVE tried.  All I know is that I do care for you.  I don’t know exactly how, or what will come of it; just that I do.”

“That is not entirely true, Your Highness…I think you know what will come of it, what already has.”  Xanthe’s tone was serious but her eyes held a soft look, almost like a mother counseling her child.

Eomer recognized the affection and smiled gratefully.  “I know…I just wish that it could have been different…less painful.”

Xanthe shook her head.  “I hope I’m not too assuming when I say that I really don’t feel that there is any one person to blame.  I should never have asked you to keep secret what happened…”

“You had good reason, Xan,” Eomer assured her as he repetitively brushed his thumb across her palm.  “You were just trying to make things easier.  I am the one who ruined it.  I shouldn’t have allowed my fears to overwhelm me, and I DEFINITELY shouldn’t have allowed you to ride away thinking that I didn’t care.”

Xanthe felt a heavy weight lift from her as she looked into Eomer’s eyes and smiled.  “I appreciate you telling me that, I needed to hear it.”  She moved her free hand to Eomer’s face and ran her fingers over his cheek.  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.  It’s over now, don’t let it trouble you.”

“And what of you, will you be troubled?”

Xanthe laughed, a genuinely pleasant sound.  “I am always troubled Your Highness, do not let it worry you.”

“But it does!  I still care for you…I want you to be happy.”

“I am not miserable, Eomer, only young and foolish.  I will learn to be happy as time goes on.  I can look back on this as a good experience, one which I can learn from.”

Eomer dropped his gaze for a moment before looking up again with a wistful expression.  “Is it over then-- are WE over?”

Xanthe’s eyes widened.  She had assumed that Eomer was speaking to her now so that he could finalize everything and move on with Lothiriel.  She had not expected him to be so regretful.  “I…I am not exactly sure.”

Eomer took a deep breath and brought Xanthe’s hand to his lips.  “I do care for you Xanthe…how could I not?  But…”

“But,” Xanthe continued for him, “duty calls, and in this case, duty is not so unpleasant.”

Eomer grinned, though his eyes seemed pained.  “I enjoy her company, but I am not sure how I feel…I am confused.”

“You aren’t expected to know how you feel-- you’ve only known her one day.  Give it time.  I think she is a wonderful woman, and she compliments you a great deal.”

“And what about you?”

“I wish to serve as palace healer still, but I don’t want to be any trouble to you-- or to the Princess.”

Eomer shook his head with a laugh, “Of course you will still be my healer, but that’s not what I as referring to.  What of your own endeavors in love?”

Xanthe looked confused for a moment but soon smiled knowingly.  “If you are referring to your Captain, I’m not sure what he wants, nor am I certain that he knows either.  He speaks in riddles and has terrible mood swings.”

Eomer laughed loudly at this, the sound reverberating off the solid walls.  “Well that says everything then!  Gaviwyr is the most decisive person I know.  He is as straightforward as one of Legolas’s arrows, and just as confident.  If he is acting strangely, let me assure you, it is because he is in love, and simply doesn’t know what to make of it.”

Xanthe blushed and looked at Eomer playfully.  “Would you care to expound on that?”

Eomer shook his head.  “I think you should ask him, but know this…he cares for you.  He has since he first met you.  I have seen it in his eyes when he looks at you, heard it in his voice when he speaks of you.  It used to threaten me, but now it brings joy to my heart.” 

“I hope you are right Eomer, for I feel something too.”

Eomer stood suddenly, pulling her up along with him.  He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her cheek tenderly.  “I AM right, you’ll see.  Now we had better be off before your brother sends out another search party.”

Xanthe nodded but held firmly to Eomer’s hand, not allowing him to leave just yet.  “Eomer,” she said in a subdued voice, “thank you.  You truly are a wonderful man.  I am happy for the opportunity I have had to become close to you, and I wish for you only happiness.”

Eomer pulled his hand away from Xanthe’s and embraced her in a tight hug.  “That makes all the difference.”

*          *          *

Eowyn narrowed her eyes as she watched Eomer exit the library quickly, without so much as a word to Lothiriel.  She felt angry with Xanthe for distracting her brother yet again, but she also felt sorry for her; she was about to be reprimanded for doing exactly what Eowyn had hope she would-- disappear. 

She turned to Lothiriel who was still looking at the doorway, her head cocked to the side as if she were trying to hear what was going on beyond the impossibly thick walls.  “He’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

Lothiriel smiled.  “Poor girl, I can understand perfectly why she would rather be out with Gaviwyr than stuck in here.  I hope Eomer isn’t too hard on her.”

Eowyn tried to look reassuring as she nodded her head.  “I wouldn’t worry-- Eomer is much gentler than he looks.”

The Princess shook her head.  “He looked really upset…I think there may be more to this situation than we understand.”

Eowyn sucked on her bottom lip nervously as she debated telling Lothiriel what she knew.  Finally, she decided that it would be better for her to hear it now, than later from a gossiping maid. “Actually, there is a bit more to the situation…”

Lothiriel raised her delicate eyebrows and leaned forward.  “Really…what?”

Eowyn looked around and was relieved to find the others in the library involved in their own affairs, oblivious to the two women.  “It seems that Xanthe showed some interest in Eomer on their trip here, and he was rather clumsy with her feelings.  Apparently there was a small incident, and they have not spoken since.”

“I’m sure she is not the only one who showed interest.” Lothiriel insisted.  “The poor girl…having your heart broken by a King is no joy!”

Eowyn was surprised at her friend’s reaction.  “I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I was afraid you may have been…”  Eowyn hesitated.

“Threatened?” Lothiriel finished for her.   

Eowyn didn’t reply. 

“I certainly should be-- she is beautiful.”

“But…?” Eowyn prompted her.

“But something tells me this will all work out the way it’s supposed to, no matter what happens.”

Eowyn admire Lothiriel’s confidence.  “You’re certainly more altruistic than I’ll ever be.  I’ve been jealous enough for the both of us!”

Lothiriel laughed.  “I don’t know about altruistic.  If it were a matter of right or wrong, I would certainly fight harder, but it isn’t.  Eomer, Xanthe and I are all good people-- we shouldn’t be reduced to fighting amongst ourselves.”

Before Eowyn had a chance to reply, she saw Eomer walk back into the library, leading Xanthe by the hand.  She paled as she saw the tenderness of the touch and the smiles on both their faces.  She turned quickly to Lothiriel with an embarrassed look on her face, but before she could apologize, Lothiriel raised her hand and smiled.  “Look,” she whispered, with a slight movement of her head in the direction of Eomer and Xanthe. 

Eowyn turned quickly, a frown already forming on her red lips.  On the other side of the room Eomer was bent over Gaviwyr’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear.  Eowyn wished she could hear what he was saying, or at least read his lips, but Eomer’s long hair was covering his face, making it impossible to detect anything.  Instead she looked at Gaviwyr’s face, and was surprised to see a look of pleasant shock on his face. 

She turned to Lothiriel, who was looking quite pleased.  “What is going on?”

Lothiriel beckoned Eowyn closer and whispered in her ear, “I believe he is giving Gaviwyr permission to pursue Xanthe.”

Eowyn let out a slight gasp and whirled around to seek out the girl.  She was sitting with her back to Eomer and Gaviwyr, conversing with Olihre and the two Lorien elves.  Turning back to her brother, Eowyn saw him slap Gaviwyr on the shoulder and wave his finger at him teasingly.  “You just be careful my friend…” she heard him laugh, before turning again and walking towards herself and Lothiriel.

“I apologize for my abrupt departure,” he said softly, a charming twinkle in his eyes.  “I had something to take care of…something I have been putting off.”

Lothiriel smiled and scooted over on the couch, motioning for Eomer to join her.  “Is it indeed taken care of then?”

Eomer looked at Eowyn briefly before turning to Lothiriel and flashing her a dazzling smile.  “It is indeed Mi’lady.”

*          *          *

Across the room Gaviwyr was grinning shamelessly.  Aragorn and Legolas had both noticed his exuberant aura and neither were above tossing him suggestive looks.  Gaviwyr only raised his eyebrows playfully and settled back into his chair, fixing his eyes on the back of the woman who finally held all of his heart.

Chapter Twenty-One- At Length

Gaviwyr paced nervously in his bedchambers, trampling the clothing that he had carelessly tossed onto the floor hours earlier.  He had left his companions in the library around midnight, determined to get some sleep and sort out the troubles in his mind. 

The night had been an eventful one; he was still not sure what had happened between Eomer and Xanthe in the hallway, but he did know that Eomer’s words to him after were far from jealous or hostile.  He had returned to his room with a smile on his face, but also with many doubts.

Now, hours later, he finally stopped pacing and flopped down on his bed, pulling up the plush white comforter and wringing it nervously in his hands.  He lay on his back and looked around, noting for the first time that his room was identical to Xanthe’s.  It was furnished with the same dark oak furniture, light blue wall hangings, and cream colored rugs.  He smiled as he pictured Xanthe, no doubt asleep in her own bed by now.  He even ventured to picture himself there as well, holding her tightly as she slept.  He could almost smell her…

Gaviwyr shook his head forcefully, clearing the vision from his mind.  It won’t do to dream of things that are not yet yours…

*          *          *

The diamond pained windows in Eomer’s room filtered the morning light, illuminating the ornate woodwork on the walls, making the brass fixtures in the room gleam, and revealing a very grumpy King.  Eomer tossed himself sideways and pulled the heavy straw colored duvet over his head.  He had stayed in the library, speaking with Lothiriel, until nearly three o’clock in the morning.  It was now barely past dawn, and his eastern facing windows were offering him no respite.  Underneath the duvet, he was just starting to return to his previous thick oblivion, when he heard pounding at his door.

“Eomer, open the door!”

The King groaned and threw the duvet onto the floor, but did not get up.

“Please Eomer!”

“Come in then, you mad woman!” he shouted, wondering what in the world could have his healer up so early, and in such a fuss.

Xanthe opened the door wide and walked in, shutting it quickly when she saw the scarcely dress King still sprawled across the bed with his eyes closed.  “Ummm…” she momentarily forgot what she had come for.  Walking to the other side of his bed, she picked up the duvet and tossed it back on top of him.  “Better,” she mumbled.

Eomer sat up and grinned at her, finding it difficult not to flirt just a little bit, despite his affections for another.  “You are my healer after all, Xan-- you may have to see me in my shorts a few times yet.”

Xanthe scowled.  “You’re really quite horrible-- what if the Princess were here?”

Laughing as he stood up, he walked past Xanthe to his bureau which stood by the door.  He rifled through the drawers, tossing clothing on top as he searched for a decent pair of trousers.  “She wouldn’t mind…she knows you’re in love with Gaviwyr, and therefore no threat to her.”

Xanthe frowned at the mess Eomer was making.  “That brings me to why I am here-- why did you send Gav away?”

Eomer looked doubtfully at Xanthe and then shifted his eyes dramatically to each side of her, as if looking for something.  Finally he raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.  “I have NO idea what you are talking about.”

“Eomer, focus-- all of his things are gone…where did you send him?”  Xanthe had no patience for the King’s dry sense of humor right now. 

Eomer shook his head and put his hands on his hips.  “He can’t be gone Xan, I didn’t send him anywhere.”

Looking at Eomer with frustration in her eyes, Xanthe insisted, “But he is gone.  I went to see him earlier this morning and found the maid preparing his room for another guest.  She said that he didn’t tell her where he was going; only that he would be gone for a few weeks.” 

Eomer tried to picture a time any earlier in the morning than the one they that were currently experiencing.  “What were you doing up so early anyway?”

Xanthe rolled her eyes.  “Geylof asked if I would go riding with he and Lailei.  I wanted to invite Gav...”

“Maybe Elessar knows where he went,” Eomer interrupted before putting an arm around Xanthe’s shoulders.  “Don’t worry Xan, he wouldn’t leave without word.”

As he navigated her towards the door, Xanthe carefully asked, “What did you say to him last night?”

Eomer stopped and looked at Xanthe carefully.  “You don’t actually think I would do anything to harm your relationship, do you?”

Xanthe stayed silent for a moment before shaking her head.  “No, you wouldn’t.  I was afraid that maybe you had said something to make him angry-- something to make him change his mind.”

“Do you really want to know what I said to him?” 

She hesitated before nodding. 

“I told him that he should marry you before you finally realize that you were always too good for either of us.  I told him that he should act right away and not loose you like I did.”  Eomer watched Xanthe’s eyes widened.  “He said he wanted to give you time.  I told him to be careful…loosing you is painful.”  Eomer put his hand on the back of Xanthe’s neck.  “Believe me Xan, he loves you.  I don’t know where he is, but I do know that he would rather be with you.”

Xanthe let out the breath that she had been holding and wound her arms around Eomer’s neck.  “You always know what to say.”

“Of course I do, I am a politician, am I not?”

Xanthe smiled at Eomer as he once again put his arm around her shoulder and lead her towards the door.  “Let’s go see if Aragorn knows where he went.”

Xanthe nodded her head but pulled out of his embrace, turning to face him.  “We will, but shouldn’t you finish lacing up your pants first?” 

Looking down quickly, Eomer realized with chagrin that he hadn’t quite finished putting his trousers on.  He blushed and looked up at Xanthe, who had her arms folded in front of her and her eyes directed at the ceiling, a playful smile animating her face. 

“You really are distracting, you know that?” he growled.

Xanthe shook her head with resignation, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks.

*          *          *  

Gaviwyr squinted his eyes against the unfiltered morning sun.  It was still chilly outside and the wetness of the morning embraced him, creeping underneath his thick robes and causing him to shift uncomfortably atop his mount.  He pulled his hood up and over his face, trusting his steed to continue down the correct path without his guidance.  As his body rocked to and fro with the steady rhythm of the horse’s canter, Gaviwyr felt his eyes grow heavy and his mind cloud over.  As he drifted off, he repeated once more to himself that which he had thought so many times since his abrupt departure earlier that morning…I hope she understands. 

*          *          *

“Gaviwyr is gone?” Aragorn asked incredulously.

Those were not the words that either visitor was hoping to hear.  Xanthe looked distraught as Eomer walked past the King and looked questioningly at Legolas and Gimli. 

“I don’t suppose either of you spotted him this morning?”

Legolas shook his head slowly and allowed his eyes to glaze over as he relived the events of his morning. 

Gimli grunted and gave his head a jerk in each direction.  “Haven’t seen him since last night,” the dwarf rumbled.  “Don’t know where he’d have gone to, though it wouldn’t hurt to ask the stable hands if they’ve seen him.”

Eomer nodded his head appreciatively and looked back at Xanthe, who was already headed towards the door.  “I’ll go to the stables,” she called over her shoulder.  “Will you check with Faramir-- he was in the room across from Gav’s.”

Eomer nodded and headed towards the opposite doors in the enormous white throne room.  Without a word he exited and made his way quickly down the hallway, nodding curtly to those he passed.  Though he was wary to admit it, he was actually beginning to worry.  At first, the entire situation had seemed unreal to him, and he hadn’t really allowed himself to think on it.  However, as time passed and there continued to be no sign of his Captain and best friend, he began to wonder.

Did anything seem unusual last night?

Eomer had noticed that Gaviwyr didn’t join Xanthe’s group in the library; choosing instead to speak with Legolas and Gimli all night.    When Eomer took him aside and asked why he wasn’t with her, he said he merely wanted to give her time with her old friends.

He seemed convincing enough…but he did leave before everyone else…

No, he had known Gav for many years, and he was sure that he would have noticed if anything were wrong.  Pondering different possibilities, Eomer rounded the corner without looking and ran directly into the Prince of Ithilien.  

“Faramir!” he exclaimed nervously, as if caught doing something forbidden.

Faramir laughed and nodded.  “Is everything all right?”

“Yes!  Sorry… I wasn’t paying attention.” Eomer smiled as he took a deep breath.  “I was actually just on my way to your chambers.”

“Really, why?”

“Gaviwyr seems to have gone missing; we wondered if perhaps you had seen or heard anything?”

Faramir shook his head.  “Sorry friend, I’ve only just awoken.  I haven’t seen him since he left the library last night.”  He paused for a moment before adding, “But I did see light coming from his room when I returned early this morning-- I don’t know if that means anything”

“Well, it means he didn’t go to sleep when he left the library.”  Eomer clapped Faramir on the shoulder.  “Many thanks.”

“Good luck,” the Prince called as Eomer continued on down the hallway. 

*          *          *

Xanthe had no luck in the stables; no one seemed to have been present when Gaviwyr stole away.  All she had managed to learn was that Gaviwyr had taken his saddle bags, indicating that his journey was going to be long. 

As she wandered back to the throne room, she began to evaluate what she knew. 

Gav’s not an impulsive person…he wouldn’t leave unless something was wrong…but what could be wrong?…if it were something to do with politics or his troops, Eomer would know…for that matter, if it were personal, Eomer would know…but he doesn’t…    

Eomer was already in the throne room when Xanthe entered.  She immediately saw the pity in his eyes as he broke away from Aragorn and started towards her.  Turning away quickly, she tried to clear her mind of all the conflicting emotions.  The last things she wanted was to be seen as a fragile, heart-broken girl, whimpering and pleading for attention from others.  She would express interest only in Gaviwyr’s safety and state of mind; her personal feelings would not be a factor, not to anyone else anyway.

“Any information?” Eomer asked as he approached her, taking her shoulder and turning her to face him. 

“None,” she replied without emotion.  “It seems the Captain has disappeared.”

“I don’t know what to tell you Xan…”

Xanthe did not want to be comforted.  “You don’t have to tell me anything.  This is the court’s concern…your concern, as King.  It has nothing to do with me.”  Eomer made to reply but was halted by Xanthe’s hand.  “If I am not needed, I shall retire to my chambers.”

Eomer nodded, recognizing the all too familiar defense that Xanthe was building around her heart.  “I’ll let you know if anything changes,” he said softly.  Xanthe continued walking towards the doors without any recognition of his comment.

When she had left, Eomer took a seat next to Aragorn and shook his head.  “I am sorry to bring such drama to your home, Your Highness.”

Aragorn smiled understandingly.  “Don’t be sorry, drama seems to be what our lives are made of, would you not agree?”

“I suppose, though I think I would prefer a dull life over constant strife.”

“Ah, but with a dull life you never would have fought for the freedom of your people.  You never would have become King, and therefore the man you are today.  And more importantly perhaps…you would never have met your healer.  In the end, I think any strife encountered is only a fraction of what you would gladly pay for her acquaintance, is it not?”

Eomer chuckled and leaned back in his seat.  “Arwen’s elven wisdom seems to be rubbing off on you, my friend.”  Eomer rose from his seat and stretched his arms above his head.  “Now, if you don’t mind, I am going to rest before lunch.”

*          *          *

“A little higher in your aim and you’ll have it!” Legolas stood behind Olihre with his hands clasped behind his back.

Olihre shifted the bow upwards and prepared to release.

“Now a little bit lower…” Legolas said.

Olihre let out an exasperated sigh and turned his head toward the elf.  “I hardly moved it!”

“Ah, but ‘hardly’ will make all the difference.  Archery is a precision sport; the slightest variation can cause drastic changes in trajectory.”

“In other words, don’t breath!”  Gimli had joined the two in the archery field after breakfast, but had been sitting against a tree sharpening his ax the entire time.

Legolas gave the dwarf a withering look and turned back to Olihre.  “Not if you wheeze like Gimli, anyway.”

Olihre, who had finally found the right trajectory and was prepared to release, started shaking with laughter.  “This is impossible!”

Gimli took this opportunity to interject his opinion.  “It’s a waste of time really, prancing about with a bunch of sticks!  In battle, metal is what’s needed.  You’ll eventually run out of arrows, but an ax is eternal!”

Legolas gave Olihre a humored look and then turned suddenly and ran full tilt towards the dwarf.  Gimli dropped his ax and lunged to his side, spreading himself out against the ground.  When he didn’t feel the impact he had been expecting he raised his head up and searched for the elf.  Legolas had jumped over Gimli’s retreating form and into the tree behind him.

“What in Varda’s name are you doing?” Gimli bellowed, his face red with anger.

Legolas laughed and climbed higher up in the tree.  “Use you ax now, friend Gimli.  Let us see its worth.”

Gimli stood and retrieved his ax.  “If you are too cowardly to come down and face me in a fair fight, than I have already won.”

Legolas scowled from his high position.  “It is not cowardly for one to use his skills to stay alive, dwarf.  Full fledged battle is not about honor, it is about who can kill first.  By the time you’ve chopped down this tree with your ax, I could have killed you and twenty of your fellows with my bow.”

Gimli looked fit to kill at that moment.  Olihre intervened, seeing the possible explosion that was about to take place.  “Gimli, now that I have learned a bit with the bow, would you be so kind as to show me the stances and swings of your ax?”

Gimli shot a menacing look into the tree as he walked towards Olihre.  “It’s good to know I am not COMPELTELY surrounded by fools.  The ax is an essential weapon…there are not always TREES to hide in during battle.”

“Not that you could reach them if there were,” Legolas laughed as he jumped soundlessly to the ground.

Gimli wisely choose to ignore Legolas as he began moving Olihre through the basic stances of ax-play.  Legolas patted his friend playfully on the shoulder and took his turn at the base of the tree, watching the lesson with feigned interest.

“Olihre, does your sister have any skill with weapons?” Legolas asked after some minutes had passed.

“No, why?”

Legolas shrugged his shoulders.  “She seems very independent.  I can almost picture her with a bow and arrow.”

Olihre rested the ax against his shoulder and shook his head.  “It’s funny, Gav asked me the same thing during our journey here.  Only he said he could picture her with a short sword.”

“Speaking of Gav,” Gimli interrupted, “why in the world do you suppose he would run away from such a lovely lady?”

Legolas shook his head and looked wearily at Olihre, who had his brows furrowed in an obvious display of shock.  “What are you talking about?  Gav didn’t run away.”

Gimli looked sidelong at Legolas and then cleared his throat, turning back to Olihre.  “I suppose you haven’t heard then…Gav has been missing since early this morning.  It seems he has run off.”

Olihre snorted, “Hasn’t Eomer told you?”

The dwarf and the elf looked at each other.  “No,” they both said in unison.

“He left this morning for Edoras.  He has,” Olihre paused for effect, “business to take care of.”   

*          *          *

Eomer opened the door to his chambers and found the maid bustling around, finishing her work.

“Sorry to be in the way, Your Highness,” she breathed, “I’m all finished now.”

Eomer nodded his thanks to the aging woman and started to walk towards his bed when something on his bureau caught his eye.  “Excuse me Madame, what is this?”

The woman looked at the piece of rolled parchment that Eomer held in his hands.  “I’m not sure Your Highness, I didn’t look at it.”

“Was it here when you arrived?”

She nodded meekly.  “T’was underneath all of the clothing on your bureau.”

Eomer stared at the bureau for a moment before turning and smiling at the woman.  “I must have overlooked it earlier…thank you.”

“Surely, Your Highness.” The woman mumbled as she backed out the doorway. 

Eomer unrolled the parchment with expectant hands.  Relief filled his every muscle as he read the familiar handwriting of his trusted friend.

Eomer,

I hope you are not overly angry with me when you get this.  I have been up all night considering the many things that have occurred as of late.  I am sure it will come as no surprise to you when I say that I am in love with your healer.  I would ask for her hand now, as you have suggested, except that I feel there are things to be done first. 

I have spoken with Olihre and he has agreed to act as your First Guard in my absence-- he is quite handy with a sword, though I am sure his presence will be more of a formality than a necessity. 

I should be back before Eowyn’s wedding in two weeks time, but if I am not, please relay my congratulations to the couple.  Also, dear friend, please convey to Xanthe my regret at having to leave so suddenly.  I wished to speak to her in person, but knew that if I did, I would not have the will to leave her.  Please tell her why I have gone, and assure her that I will return shortly.

Until then,

Gaviwyr

Eomer reread the note several times, and each time he did, the smile on his face grew wider and wider.  “So that is where you have run off to!” Eomer chuckled aloud.  “I should have known.”

He started for his door immediately, intent on relieving Xanthe of her anxiety as soon as possible when something stopped him.  He never really did say EXACTLY why he was leaving.  What should I tell Xanthe?  Eomer grinned rather devilishly as he considered what he might say.  With a satisfied snort, he opened the door and disappeared into the hallway.

*          *          *

Xanthe was lying upside down in her bed, her legs supported by her pillows.  Her hands were thrown above her head and her neck was twisted to that her face rested on her shoulder blade.  The redness in her eyes had almost disappeared, and her tears had long dried, leaving almost no indication of the breakdown she had just experienced.

She was now in the exhausted slumber that comes only after soul wrenching sobs.  Her breathing was deep and even, every now and then broken by a quick intake of breath.  When loud knocking penetrated the heavy silence, Xanthe’s heart skipped a beat. 

Taking a deep breath and bringing one hand back down to rub her eyes, she groaned, “What is it?”

Eomer opened the door slowly and peeked his head around it.  “Sorry to wake you,” he started, “I just thought you might want to know that I found a note from Gaviwyr.”

She resisted the urge to jump out of bed and rush to his side, instead she simply mumbled, “Where is he?”

Eomer smiled to himself.  “He’s gone back to Edoras.  He has things there that he needs to take care of.”

Xanthe didn’t move from her horizontal position.  “Wonderful,” was all she said. 

“He asked me to convey his regret at having to run off so suddenly; it could not be avoided.”

“Couldn’t it?” Xanthe said bitterly, before remembering her resolve to stay neutral in front of others.  “No matter…now you know where he is…the mystery has been solved…life can go on as usual.”

Eomer felt a twang of guilt in his heart, knowing that he could easily set her at ease if he wanted to.  No, he steeled himself, it’s better this way.

“He still loves you, Xan,” is all he would allow himself to say.

*          *          *

*          *          *

*          *          *

Gaviwyr arrived in Edoras five days later.  He had ridden hard, often going all night without stopping.  His horse looked about ready to fall over when he they finally reached the outskirts of town, and Gaviwyr fought back the guilty feeling within him.  It is a worthy sacrifice…

He contemplated stopping at Meduseld and changing into fresh clothing before his visit, but could not convince himself of the importance.  Instead, he smoothed his hair back the best he could and splashed some water from his canteen onto his face.  Straightening his back and rolling his head from side to side, he dismounted his horse and tied the reigns to a nearby bush. 

He could see faces peering out of the windows of the house before him, and that alone kept him from loosing his resolve and sneaking off.  As he approached the front door it swung open and he was faced with three very anxious looking individuals.

“What’s happened?” the younger woman cried out as she ran down the steps to meet him.

“Where are the others?” the old man demanded.

Gaviwyr smiled and held his hand up, calling for a halt in questioning.  “They are fine, I assure you.  I alone have returned early with most pressing business.”

The older woman, still standing on the porch with her husband called down in a raspy voice, “And what business would that be?”

Gaviwyr smiled nervously, but did not answer right away.  Instead he took a few steps towards the younger woman and took her hand.  The distraught look on her face was enough for Gaviwyr to want to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

“Madame, I have come to ask…nay, I have come to beg…” Gaviwyr hesitated for a moment before continuing with new conviction, “I have come to plead for that which would make me happier than anything in this world, your daughter’s hand.”

THE END!!!

*Varda- The Lady of the Heavens.  After many Ages of Darkness, Varda took the dew from the Silver Tree of the Valar and rekindled the bright Stars which shone down upon Middle Earth.  This act began the Ages of Stars, which saw the awakening of Elves, Dwarves, Ents, Orcs, and Trolls.  (Guide to Tolkien’s World, David Day)