This story follows on from Tide of Destiny Part 1 - Choices. But it will stand alone if you don’t mind missing a few references and can’t face reading the thirty-four chapters of that story! LBJ

Drummer - Tide of Destiny Part 2

Dol Amroth, 24th February 3021

The Wedding of Éomer of Rohan to Lothíriel of Dol Amroth

He had no right to sink into gloom, not at his sister’s wedding. Amroth knew he should be pleased for her. He was really, wishing her all the happiness in Middle-earth. And he could not fault her choice… but still… he let out a deep soul-searching sigh and took another gulp of wine, grimacing. The stuff never agreed with him, but he did not know if it was the wine that was making him maudlin or the fact that he was losing his closest sibling. And it was no use to say that Éomer must have felt the same when Éowyn wed, because at least he had met Lothíriel at that very time. Amroth did not have that luxury. Every eligible female in the kingdom must be here, and he had not come across a single one he would wish to wake up beside for more than three mornings in a row. Most he would not even wish to take as far as the bedroom door. Why did virgins simper and giggle, he idly wondered. Did a maidenhead have a physical connection to the throat?

Irritably, he pushed his goblet away. If he was thinking like this he really must stop drinking the stuff. Anyway, virgins were out. The thought of becoming entangled with some proud lord’s maiden daughter and not being able to extricate himself was not a pleasing one. Far better to stick to widows. Yet he knew that somewhere there his problem lay, because this past year even the prettiest of those had not held the same attraction as before. Not that he had spent the previous twelve months always alone, but in his heart he recognised that there might be something missing. He thought he knew what, but was just not yet quite able to admit it. Amroth looked over to his sister – she was gazing into her Éomer’s eyes. He looked as though he wanted to eat her, and she about to hand him the knife and fork.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

It was the day of that ill fated picnic that had started this deep discontentment, when she had fallen asleep. He had seen her sway in her saddle, but of course Éomer got there first. Amroth knew without a doubt that as far as Lothíriel was concerned, he always would. She had put her arms right around him, laid her head against his chest and gone to sleep. What had Éomer done? He had tied up Firefoot’s reins, spoken to the horse quietly to control him by voice, put one arm around the sleeping girl to hold her and with his other gauntleted hand had very gently pushed her hair away from her eyes and mouth. It was the look on his face that had started all this. Éomer had looked down at her as if she was the most precious treasure that he could ever have found, and of course she was.

His reverie ended suddenly as his attention was snatched by the sight of Alphros’s cheeky face peeking out from behind a pillar. What was he up to? Fascinated, Amroth watched his nephew sneak up behind Gimli. He quickly smothered a laugh when he realised Alphros’s intent and caught Legolas’s eye. The elf had spotted the young miscreant too. Lifting a long-fingered hand he grinned behind it. Luckily Gimli still munched on a mutton bone, completely oblivious to his long plaits being tied to the chair he was sitting on.

Alphros had chosen his time well. He had just stepped back – a smirk from ear to ear as he inspected his handiwork – when Aragorn rose to propose the toast.  Gimli tried to stand up, but the heavy chair hung on to him obstinately.

Amroth doubled up. The look of surprise and panic on Gimli’s face – plus everyone around trying not to laugh and failing dismally – had him gulping air. During the uproar Elphir marched up, grabbed his son by the collar, and with a few words of apology to the dwarf, dragged him out. Poor Meren, she was the only one Amroth felt sorry for. With her pretty face bright pink, she shook her head in disbelief. What would the little terror get up to next?

Order restored, Legolas having untangled his hairy friend, Aragorn carried on with his speech. With nothing else to claim his attention, Amroth sank lower in his chair. After they had said goodbye to the happy couple, it would likely be another irksome evening. He would have to try and get away to the port with Erchi.  Feeling like he did, there was no way he would be spending the whole evening dancing with an assortment of noblemen’s dreary daughters.

His mind returned to Éomer, and the total fulfilment he showed at having found Lothíriel. Amroth pondered his thoughts, wondering if he was ready to admit the truth to himself.  A bold step, from which there might be no going back, but his father had always told him that it was far better to face things full on. All right then, he let another breath sigh out, still not sure if he was prepared to accept the consequences of his deliberations – but he wanted to feel that way about a woman!

Well, it was said. It must be the wine. But wanting and happening were two very different things. He was twenty-six and so far had not come across any female who had held his interest for more than a few weeks. He had certainly never felt anything that he thought resembled love and now wondered if there was something wrong with him. Perhaps when women came so easily they lost their appeal?  But the other strange thing was that he had always thought that he would have children; he liked children. Well, most of them anyway. He laughed to himself thinking of Alphros. But the thought of teaching them to ride, swim and sail a boat appealed to him.

He could not have children without a wife and since most of the likely candidates were in this hall, his chances of finding one were diminishing fast. Now a year ago the thought of a wife had not entered his head. Was he getting old? No, it was definitely the fault of those two over there. The tangible joy between them was causing him serious disquiet.

His musings came to a halt when he realised that Aragorn had finished. But immediately his father stood up. The Lord of Dol Amroth however seemed disinclined to prolong everyone’s agony and kept his speech short and to the point – he couldn’t be giving his daughter to a better man. At last, they must be nearing the end because the puddings were being brought in. Passing on the sweet stuff himself, Amroth became entranced by the love play going on between his sister and her new husband as they fed each other golden jelly. Éomer looked as if he couldn’t wait another moment. If there were any more speeches he would probably just pick Lothíriel up and carry her out.

Not wanting to intrude anymore, even from a distance, on the intimacy between the bridal couple, Amroth cast his eyes around the hall. His gaze stopped as he noticed someone different. Last night he had definitely not come across any girl with bright chestnut hair.

At least he assumed that she was a girl and not a married lady. She sat next to a portly man, but somehow he felt that she was not a wife. Chestnut hair? He knew that he had heard it mentioned before, but when or where he had no idea. That was it! The damn wine! If it made him lose his memory he would not be drinking any more. No chance of ale, far too common for this gathering. Amroth beckoned to a server.

“What did you give young Alphros to drink?”

“He had lemonade, my lord.”

Amroth nodded. That would do. “Please would you fetch me a jug?”

The well trained face couldn’t hide astonishment. “Lemonade! My lord?”

 Enjoying the reaction, Amroth kept his own expression bland. “If you would be so good.”

The server bowed. “Certainly, my lord.”

That organised, he looked back towards the girl and had the distinct impression that she had been looking in his direction and had just turned away. Still, that was not surprising, most here had never seen an Elf or a Dwarf before, and they had probably drawn her interest. He waited for a glimpse of her face, but no luck, she didn’t turn again. Shrugging, he dismissed her. The hair looked beautiful, but she probably had buckteeth and giggled.

Damn, now Mithrandir had got up to say something. At this rate there would be no chance of slipping down to the tavern. He risked a glance towards Éomer, but he must have accepted the inevitable, having put his arm around Lothíriel and closed his eyes. The old wizard rambled on in his usual way, thinking that all were party to his own considerable knowledge and causing quite a sea of bewildered faces. The future of Middle-earth was hardly on everyone’s mind at that moment. More like drinking, dancing and what generally followed.

---

The procession disappeared out through the gates. Amroth chuckled to himself: Éomer could probably not believe his luck – Shadowfax and Lothíriel all in one night!

But then the poor man had waited long enough, considering he had wanted her right from the beginning. No surprise there, Lothíriel was definitely a beauty. But the way Éomer had grabbed her and sat her on his horse before anyone could object, they had all found that funny.

And what about when he had come across them in the stables? He had not heard what they had been saying, but they had been looking deep into each other’s eyes. The very air had seemed to be crackling; he would not have been surprised if a bolt of lightening had suddenly struck them both.

Well, they were very lucky to have found one another, but he couldn’t imagine the same thing happening to him. With a last look – they were completely out of sight now –  Amroth headed back into the hall. The tables had been moved aside and some couples were already dancing. The best thing to do, he reasoned, would be to make a deal with Erchi. They could dance with a few each and by then their father would hopefully be in his cups and not notice them disappear. It was no good asking Oríon to come to the tavern as he already had his arms around the same girl he had danced with the night before. By now she would probably have an extensive knowledge of the mathematical ratio between the ballast and sail area of their latest ship!

Grinning, Amroth looked around for his brother. That was when he saw her. There was no mistaking the chestnut hair. The girl had her back resting against a pillar and was watching the dancing, her foot tapping in time to the music.  He stared for a moment. He might not be fey like his sister but the elven blood made him perceptive. It was not that she looked lost, or indeed lonely. She looked totally alone.

Intrigued, he made his way towards her, skirting around the back of the pillars to avoid anyone else. At least the fact that his father was the host meant that he did not have to wait to be introduced. She was not aware of him approaching and only turned when he got quite near. Surprise flashed in her eyes. What else? Deep sorrow and a faint hint of fear? Her chin went up under his scrutiny. She might not be a startling beauty like his sister, but she had great big honey coloured eyes, creamy skin and a sprinkling of freckles. Quite lovely.

Amroth introduced himself and made a bow.

With the surprise still on her face, it was a moment before she inclined her head. “My name is Devoran, my lord.”

He waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. That was unusual. Keen to impress, they generally rattled off a list of their credentials.

“Well, Devoran, why are you standing here by yourself?”

Her gaze searched his face and he had the distinct feeling she was assessing him, as though wondering if she could trust him with the truth or needed to make up something polite and acceptable. He must have passed the test because she smiled slightly. “I am here with my cousin and his wife. I have spent the last five days in their company and decided I can stand no more. I prefer my own.”

Amroth stifled the chuckle that rose up, wondering if she was always so direct. “In that case, unless you wish to spend the whole evening on your own, Devoran, perhaps you would do me the honour of dancing with me?”

Her shoulders dropped dispiritedly. “I would like to dance, my lord. But I have not done so for so long that I am not sure that I remember the steps.”

“I on the other hand know them extremely well, so between us I am sure that we will manage.” He offered his arm. She hesitated for a moment, and he thought she was going to decline, but then with a nod of her head she placed her fingers lightly on his arm. Not to be counted as a victory: one did not normally refuse a Prince of the Realm.

He was a good dancer and she full of rhythm and grace.  At the end of the first dance Devoran started to excuse herself, but Amroth shook his head and held on to her. Resigned, she let him lead her into the next set. But she soon relaxed, smiling and laughing and thoroughly enjoying herself. At the end of each dance he kept hold of her arm whilst they made polite conversation about the wedding and guests, until he recognised the music for a dance that would have her winging away across the floor with different partners, ending up far away from him. Usually he welcomed it, often a pleasing break and a chance to rid oneself of a tiresome duty. But this was no duty and he did not want to let her go. Worse still, he realised that he did not want her to dance with anyone else, especially with Erchi who he saw was looking in their direction. Admittedly his brother’s taste tended to be for ladies entirely more robust and easy to please, but he did not wish to take the chance.

“Devoran, will you walk outside with me? Take some air?”

She did not simper, or say I should not or I ought not to, and then do it. She looked directly at him and said: “I will walk and talk with you, Prince Amrothos, but nothing more.”

Yes, she clearly was always that direct.  He found it totally refreshing. “I assure you, Devoran, that I meant nothing more. If we walk around the battlements there are guards, and others will be walking also. It is a favourite place on nights like this.”

She nodded, and he took her arm, signalling to his esquire for his cloak as they reached the door.  Taking it from the boy he put it around her shoulders. Lifting her wonderful hair to clear the collar brought him a sharp, suspicious look. “It is a clear night, and it will be chilly on the walls.”

 “Thank you, my lord.” 

At least she hadn’t rebuked him.  “Devoran, if we are going to walk and talk together, then you should know that those I like call me Amroth.”

That brought a twitch to her lips. “I will try and remember.”

Grinning, he led her across the courtyard and up the steps beside the gate, climbing to the top level. There were a few people about, and the way was lined with torches. They walked along the top until they reached a seat in a niche lit by a lantern.

Amroth indicated the seat with his hand. “Shall we?”

She nodded, and sat down, shifting to the end away from him and keeping herself bolt upright.  Much to his amusement, even by putting his arm along the back of the seat he could not reach her.

“Well, Devoran, all I know about you is your name and that you enjoy dancing. Are you going to tell me anything else?”

 “I am from the mountains. My father is the Lord of the Morthond Vale.”

Her expression gave nothing away, but suddenly memory flooded back. The chestnut hair! Now he knew the cause of the sadness he had detected. Damn it!  “Duinhir, is he here? I have not seen him.”

Her eyes clouded and she shook her head. “My father is… is not well. As I said, I am here with my cousin, his heir.”

Amroth reached over and took her hand, “I am sorry about your brothers, they were very brave.”

She nodded, gently withdrawing her hand. “So I understand. I am glad.”

“We talked before the battle, you know.”

Her face brightened and she looked expectant.  “You knew them?” 

“It was the first time I had met them but we were of the same age and spent some hours together on the walls of the city before Rohan came. Their accuracy with those great bows amazed me. And we had a long conversation, I am not sure what about, much too scared to remember I suppose.”

“Were they scared?”

"We all were, but it did not stop them. The bowmen from the Vale made a great contribution. It must have made you and your mother proud.”

“My father told me what they did.” She shuddered. “Horrible. My mother wouldn’t listen.”

They sat silently for a moment, but he wanted to put a smile in her eyes.

“My brother, Elphir, said that your mother sang at his wedding, with a lyre. Very beautiful, he thought.” Amroth laughed, and carried on, eyes fixed on her face. “Erchi remembers a daughter. A scrawny little thing, he said, sitting at her mother’s feet.” He couldn’t help grinning. “I wonder what happened to her.”

She looked up at him, eyes huge in the lamplight. “Oh, that little girl, I remember her. She grew up. She had to, you see, for her mother died of grief.”

Amroth drew in his breath as his heart contracted. He wanted to hold her, comfort her. But he dared not; there were too many people about. It would do her no good at all to be seen with his arms around her, however innocently meant. Instead he asked quietly. “And what about your father, how is he?”

She sniffed, tears glistening in her eyes. “He sits and looks at her grave, or just sits and does nothing at all. He is losing his mind. The last time he was totally rational was when the invitation came for the wedding. He told my cousin that he could have it on the condition that he brought me. I did not want to come, but Father insisted. He became quite upset so I gave in. But I am worried about him and wish I were at home.”

“That is certainly a lesson for me,” Amroth said with a smile, hoping to distract her. “I fail to remember a time when I have been in the company of a young lady who wished to be at home with her father.”

It did provoke a laugh. “I am sure, Amroth, that the experience will do you nothing but good.”

“Do you know, Devoran, I am absolutely certain that you are right.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, I have something I wish to show you.”

He took her along to the corner of the battlements, where some more steps went up into darkness. They were roped off. Amroth unhooked the rope. “It is the lookout tower and on such a moonlit night there will be a beautiful view.”

She froze, not moving an inch, her whole body rigid. Amroth pushed down the urge to laugh.  “It is a lookout tower,” he reassured her, “there is a man on watch. We will not be alone.”

With only a slight smile of acquiescence she allowed him to help her up the steep steps. The guard came out to check, but moved aside when he recognised his visitor.

Once up there her face lit up, and she gasped in wonder as they gazed out. The moon shivered silver on the water and the surf glowed and sparkled. Amroth pointed out the dark shapes of the little islands silhouetted against the starry night sky.

“How long are you staying, Devoran?”

“Two more days. My cousin has some business in the port.”

“Good, because I think you need a little bit of fun. It will be a fair day tomorrow. Come out in my boat with me, over to one of the islands.” Her mouth opened but he didn’t let her get the refusal out. “And before you say no, I was going to ask if you would mind if we took my young nephew, Alphros? He is very naughty, but good fun. He likes it in the boat.”

The frown of concentration told him that at least she was considering the idea. So he followed up. “It would give his mother a break. There is a new baby brother, which has made him worse. Did you see what he did at the feast?”

“I saw the commotion, but could not see what caused it.”

She burst out laughing when he told her. “I would like to come; I have never been in a boat. But my cousin will probably throw a fit.”

Amroth shrugged. “Do not tell him then.”

Devoran threw him a wry look, but he could tell that she was wavering. “Well, he does get up late. I could leave him a note. And his wife has made it plain she doesn’t want to be bothered with me. She’s too busy hobnobbing with those she thinks will help push her and Alhael up a few notches.”

“I am sure your brothers mentioned him. Fat cousin Alhael comes to mind.”

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “He didn’t go to war. I doubt he could have walked the distance.” Devoran pushed her chin up determinedly. “I will come, Amroth, and worry about what he says later.”

“Good, that is settled,” Amroth said quickly before she could change her mind. In spite of her sadness she was better company than most of the prissy girls he was encouraged to spend time with. Besides, with her cousins not really looking after her, she would be prey to numerous young men in their cups. She would be better off with him. 

“And now it is still quite early, so would you like to dance again?” Hopefully no one would take much notice at such a wedding and with such a crush, not like in Merethond where more than a few dances with the same girl would cause talk. It didn’t seem to bother her anyway, because she nodded a little wistfully. “Yes, I would, we do not dance at home any more.”

He helped her down the steps and they headed back towards the hall. “I did not see you last night. Were you here?”

“Yes, I was, but I did not go to the Hall. I sat and watched the sea. My mother loved it; she came from the coast and never really liked the mountains.”

“I must admit I would not like to live anywhere else. How about you, do you love the mountains?”

A shadow passed across her face. “I used to.”

She definitely needed a bit of enjoyment from life. Alphros should help him provide it tomorrow.  And anyway, he owed it to her brothers to look after her.

---

To be continued.

A/N - I have written a short one-shot that gives a bit of background to Duinhir and Devoran.  It’s called – The Return – some of you might have read it already, but if you are interested it can be located by visiting my profile. Warning – it is a little angsty.  LBJ

Original Characters in this chapter.

Devoran -                 daughter of Duinhir, Lord of Morthond.

Alhael  -                   son of Duinhir’s elder sister. Devoran’s cousin.

Princess Meren -     Elphir’s wife

Oríon -                      Childhood friend of Amroth’s.

Chapter 2

Dol Amroth, 25 February 3021

The little boat bobbed on the tide, just below the harbour wall. Alphros already sat on the mid-thwart, impatient to be off.  But no sign of Devoran yet. Amroth searched the quayside, wondering if she would come. She might have overslept, or maybe her cousin had found out and objected. Or worse: decided not to come. Pushing down disappointment, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a bright crown of hair amongst the morning crowd. Almost running, her cloak flapped in the breeze. But she had listened: the heavy brown velvet would keep out the cold wind on the water. She arrived breathless.

“I am sorry. I thought I had better plait my hair and then it took longer than I expected to get down here.”

“No matter.” She had come, and that was the important thing. “Move up, Alphros.” Amroth took her hand and helped her into the boat. She stepped in lightly, perfectly balanced, confirming his opinion of the night before: she was an incredibly graceful young woman.

Alphros shoved along when told, but he had his eyes fixed on Devoran. Fearful of what might come out, Amroth glared at him, trying to stop any rudeness leaving his lips.  “Say good morning to Lady Devoran, Alphros.”

“Good morning,” Alphros said dutifully, but immediately followed it up with: “Why is your hair such a funny colour?”

Not looking at all offended, Devoran laughed, fingering a wayward strand. The wind already pulled at it in spite of the thick plait. “I do not know, but my mother had the same.”

“I have never seen that colour before. Did you have to plait it yourself?”

“Yes, I did.”

“A maid always does my mother’s hair. She brushes and brushes.”

“Your mother is very lucky. Who brushes yours?”

“Nobody. I run away.”

“I thought as much.” Devoran laughed, reaching out to ruffle his tangled mop.

“Are you two ready? Because I am going to cast off,” Amroth interrupted, stifling a grin. It didn’t look as if she would have too much trouble coping with Alphros’s impudence.

“You have to do everything Amroth says,” Alphros told her, full of childish importance. “He is the captain. If you don’t, you will not be allowed to come again.”

Devoran nodded seriously. “I will make sure that I do exactly as I am told.”

After he had shaken out the sail and got the little boat heading for the harbour entrance, Amroth reached into the picnic basket he had brought, and passed Devoran a small pot. “Meren sent it; it is cream for your face. She has fair skin like you. It will protect from the sun and the wind.”

“Oh, thank you.” She took the pot, smiling at him, opened the lid and sniffed. “It smells lovely.” Devoran dipped in a finger and dotted cream onto to her face, before gently rubbing it in.

“It is yuck!” Alphros screwed up his nose in disgust.  “Men do not need it; I am dark like my father and Amroth.”

“That is certainly helpful.” Devoran agreed.

Alphros shut up as a gust took the boat when they came out from the shelter of the wall. But in a moment Amroth had the lively craft settled on a course for the islands.  Devoran stared ahead, looking back to him full of excitement when he pointed out the one they were making for. But after a short while Alphros touched her on the arm to get her attention.

 “I have a pet spider.”

Noticeably flinching, Devoran drew her skirt around her legs. That made him grin. He would enjoy this exchange.

The little boy, pleased with the effect, carried on. “I call him Sauron because he is big and black.”

Her quick glance back gave him a glimpse of wide, worried eyes, before she moved along the seat away from any wandering spiders. “You have not brought it with you, have you, Alphros?”

“No,” he scoffed, “of course not. Spiders do not like water.”

“Good,” she breathed in relief.

“Do you have any pets?” Alphros asked, still smirking at his success.

“I have a dog.”

“What’s his name?”

“I call him Drummer, because he makes a lot of noise.”

“Amroth’s dogs are quiet. How does Drummer catch rabbits if he is noisy?”

She laughed. “He has to chase them into a corner, or frighten them to death with his barking.”

Alphros’s four-year-old mind changed direction and thought of something else.

“Can you swim?”

 “No, I cannot,” she answered, shaking her head. “The water in the mountains is icy cold.”

“Well, if you fall in Amroth will save you. He swims really well. He taught me.”

“That is very reassuring, Alphros.”

“He will teach you if you ask him.”

 “I do not think that there will be time. I am going home soon.”

Alphros seemed slightly disappointed. “On a horse?”

“Yes.”

“Can you ride well?”

Another head shake. “Not very well.”

“Amroth is the best rider I know… except perhaps for King Éomer,” Alphros conceded reluctantly after a pause. “But he can sail a boat really well. King Éomer cannot do that.”

Amroth couldn’t stop the chuckle erupting. Devoran turned around again, this time grinning at him. The morning light showed up her features perfectly. He wondered how he had not thought her absolutely beautiful. He also thought that being the object of his little nephew’s hero worship would do him no harm at all.

“Is there anything you can do?” Alphros asked Devoran.

 “I think that I may be a better shot with a bow than Amroth.” Her chin went up and Amroth just knew there would be a challenging light in her eye. Pity he had to hold the tiller, sitting with her would have been more fun.

“Really!” That impressed Alphros for the first time. “What do you shoot?”

“Rabbits.”

“Why rabbits?”

“Because they make a mess of the crops and they are good to eat.”

 “Do you skin them?” The thin voice rose with ghoulish interest.

“No!” she said quickly, shuddering. “We have an old servant who does that. His eyes are bad. So I shoot them, he skins them and his wife cooks them. It works well.”

Rabbits dismissed as of no account, Alphros moved on. “My father hunts deer. Do you do that?”

“No, they are too big. I might not kill them and cannot ride well enough to catch them.” She leaned closer to the child. “We have lions and bears in the mountains. They are very fierce, and they like to eat little boys.”

Alphros jumped, startled for a moment, but then he laughed. “You are teasing me!”

“Yes, I am, for they usually run away. But in very harsh winters they are dangerous and we have to lock up all the animals.”

Things couldn’t be good up in the Vale if the Lord’s daughter had to shoot rabbits for supper. No wonder she did not giggle, she had nothing to giggle about. Amroth allowed himself an inward chuckle, she was certainly a maid though, no doubt about that. He only had to touch her and she jumped like a scalded cat. He was also sure that when they had danced for the second time the night before, she had blushed when he had held her, although he couldn’t be sure in the dim light of the hall. But it would be easy to find out now.

“Devoran.”

Swivelling her head around, Devoran gave him a lovely smile. He smiled back, already anticipating the result of his teasing.

“There are two ways to get ashore. You can remove your shoes and wade, but you will get quite wet,” he said, trying to look innocent. “Or you can stay in the boat until I have tied it up and I will carry you.” Twinkling his eyes made her colour rise immediately. How absolutely exquisite. But he must concentrate on the sailing, or they would end up on the reef.

Alphros, sensing some adult conversation, which excluded him, swiftly butted in. “He will not drop you. He is very strong and carries me all the time.”

“I do not mind getting wet, the water will be refreshing,” she replied hurriedly.

Amroth grinned to himself, but thought that she probably needed a rest from dealing with his incorrigible nephew. “Alphros come back here, I will let you hold the tiller.”

---

Amroth found it difficult to remember a day that he had enjoyed more. First catching fish for lunch – the best part of that was the confusion it had caused her when he had put his arms around her to show her how to cast the line. But the enjoyment of witnessing her excitement and pleasure of actually catching her first fish came a close second.  Then collecting driftwood to make the fire, with Alphros proudly showing her how to slide the fish onto a stick and rest it between two tripods to cook. They had drunk lemonade to wash down the meal, and then built a huge sandcastle and made it look like Dol Amroth.

Now she had tied her skirt into a knot, much like Lothíriel might have done, and was paddling in the shallows with Alphros, breaking bread into small pieces to feed the little silver fish that bunched around their feet. She behaved perfectly naturally with the child and quite naturally with him, until she caught him staring at her. Then she blushed. He wondered if his thoughts were that easy to read, but what were his thoughts? Even to him they were a little confused.

Suddenly he noticed the clouds building on the horizon. Damn, he should have seen that before. But his attention had been diverted.

“Devoran, Alphros, we will have to go. I think there is a squall coming.”

He had left the boat on a long line with the tide ebbing, and pulled it up quickly. Alphros and Devoran were already stuffing everything into the canvas bags.  By the time they were underway, the wind had picked up considerably, but a reef protected the bay and kept out the worst of the waves. The flattish sea and the gusty wind made for exhilarating sailing and he found to his pleasure that far from being alarmed, she really enjoyed it. She held onto Alphros and laughed delightedly as the little boat scudded along. Even when they were soaked by spray the two of them screamed with excitement. Then, just as the rain started, they rounded the harbour wall out of the buffeting wind.

Telling his passengers not to move, Amroth let the sail down, leaving it open. The rain would wash the salt from the canvas. “Devoran, please, you must do as I say. The tide is low and the uncovered steps will be very slippery. I will take Alphros to the top. Stay in the boat and I will come back for you.”

The boat bounced about, but she took his hand and jumped easily onto the slimy steps. He held on to her until they reached the top of the harbour wall, and once there she gave him a lovely smile.

“Thank you, Amroth. I’ve had a wonderful day.”

Hair escaping from her plait formed wet curls around her face. A face flushed from the wind and the fresh air. Amroth decided that she looked wholesome, good enough to eat. “Will you dance with me again after supper?”

Devoran laughed, pushing some damp strands from her eyes. “You may not wish to be seen with me. I am covered with salt and my hair will go frizzy in the rain.”

“There are baths in the guesthouse surely?”

“Yes, of course. But it is all so crowded, and I am very lowly. I doubt I will be lucky.”

“I think you are very lucky,” Alphros piped up immediately. “I hate baths, but my mother will make me.”

“It will make you grow taller.” Devoran grinned at him. “Look how tall your uncle is, I expect he has many.”

Not convinced, Alphros screwed up his face.

---

Many lingered in their seats after the meal had finished, but fearful he would be called upon for duty dancing, as soon as Amroth saw the first table being cleared, he threaded his way over to where Devoran sat, next to her cousin. The man wasn’t exactly fat, but plump and soft. Too much good living and not enough exercise.  The woman Amroth assumed to be his wife – Coruves, he thought Devoran had called her – could do with a few less meals, too. She spotted him first and dug her elbow in her husband’s ribs. 

Alerted, Devoran swung around, giving him a nervous smile when his gaze fixed on her. She looked lovely, no sign of frizzy hair, it hung down her back in luxuriant waves. Standing up quickly, she introduced her cousin: mean piggy eyes, and whinging lips.

“Devoran, I thought you might dance with some of my friends,” was Alhael’s response to Amroth’s request for her company.

He didn’t often do it, but calling on all his rank, Amroth drew himself to his full height and looked haughtily down his nose. “I am sure Lady Devoran would prefer to dance with her own friends.”

The man visibly quailed. Amroth held out his arm and Devoran lightly put her fingers on it. Without a glance to her cousin she allowed him to lead her away.

“I will probably be in trouble later, but it was worth it to see his face,” she said as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Can he do much?”

“Tell my father, but that will get him nowhere. I will just have to endure censure on the way home. It will make the journey in his company even more tedious.”

“Then we must make sure the time you have here is completely enjoyable. It has stopped raining, there is a lovely sunset. I thought you might like to see it from the tower. We can dance later.”

“I would like that. And, Amroth, thank you for the bath.”

He quirked his eyebrows, enjoying teasing her. “I am sure that I would have remembered giving you a bath!”

 “You know what I meant,” she said laughing. “Thank you for going to the trouble to arrange it.”

 “Believe me; it put me to no trouble at all.”

“I imagine it didn’t, but it was a kind thought.”

Such an easy thing to do, but it would have made a real difference to her after the soaking they got. “Did Ana look after you?”

“Yes, she did. I just hope your sister will not mind me using her room.”

Amroth grinned. “I rather think that is the last thing on her mind at the moment. She and Éomer came back from the tower before supper, disappeared into their quarters and nobody has seen them since. Except for the steward who took in a tray of food.”

“It seems as if they are very much in love.”

“Yes, they are. I am glad for them both; they were betrothed for nearly a year. It was hard for them.” He sighed, twisting his lips. “I feel guilty now because I made it worse. We went to Edoras for the summer and I would not trust Éomer at all and refused to let them be alone.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Probably because you would not trust yourself in the same situation.”

“You would get on well with Lothíriel. She told me just the same, but in more forceful terms.”

They reached the lookout tower. Tonight the view was stupendous, with the sun turning the sea into molten fire. Slowly the glowing orb sunk below the horizon, leaving a sky shot with flaming embers. It looked as though it would be another fine day tomorrow and Amroth knew he wanted to spend it with her.

“How well do you ride, Devoran?”

“Not well. Although I had a pony as a child. But I came on my father’s horse. King Éomer gave him Coll after the battle.”

“Did he? I am not surprised. Your bowmen held off the Mûmakil until Éomer could regroup. If Coll is a Rohirric horse he will be well trained.”

“Yes, he is. But he is far too big for me, although he is very good natured and allows me to perch on his back.”

“Come riding tomorrow, we can go along the coast. I have a horse that will suit you.”

He sighed, as he saw her stiffen with tension. She still didn’t trust him. “I will bring an escort. Would you like my whole Company, or will you feel safe enough with just six?”

 “Six will be fine. Thank you.” She sounded prim but her lips twitched, belying the impression.

“Good. Now, let us go and dance.”

Erchi, he noticed, was dancing with a po-faced matron in a puce gown. Difficult to tell which of them looked the more bored. Amroth kept Devoran well away from him and from where his father and the rest of the family were sitting, not wanting to risk being called to task for monopolising her to exclusion of everyone else. They danced for a while, but after the fresh air and the early rising, Devoran soon started to flag. When the musicians struck a tune for a lively dance Amroth drew her aside. “It is the sea air, let us get a drink and sit down.” Leading her to the back of the hall he saw Oríon sitting with the same girl from the last two evenings.

“Devoran, come and meet a friend.”

The girl, called Luineth, turned out to be the daughter of an important ship builder from Pelargir. Now why did that not surprise him? They sat companionably for a while, talking, and then Amroth swore under his breath as he saw Erchi approaching. Already he appeared crumpled, with his collar open and his belt askew. Erchi had met Luineth earlier, and reluctantly Amroth introduced Devoran, expecting some ribald comment. This came back immediately. 

 “Well, it is lucky for us, Brother, that they grow up!”

Amroth glared at him, not that it would have any effect. But Devoran took his teasing in her stride, with no sign of a blush. They talked for a while and then Erchi stood up to go. “I am off to the tavern, having, I feel, done my duty here these past two evenings.” He grinned a little wickedly, moving his eyes between Amroth and Oríon. “I do not suppose that you two wish to come?”

Devoran immediately stood up. “I am going to retire. It has been a long day. And another busy one tomorrow if we are going riding,” she said, looking at Amroth.

Erchi gave a good impression of being affronted. “Oh! Not content with slipping off today and leaving me to entertain our exalted guests, you are planning to disappear tomorrow as well?”

Amroth grinned at him, knowing he would have to put up with a lot of mockery later. “Devoran is only here for one more day. I will be the perfect host for the rest of the week. Anyway,” he laughed, knowing how to get back at his brother, “perhaps you would have liked to have spent the whole day with your little nephew?”

Erchi’s eyes widened, and he shuddered, causing them all to fall about with laughter.

Amroth turned to Devoran. “I admit that a tankard of ale would be very welcome, but if you are going to the guesthouse I will escort you first.”

“I am going to bed as well,” Luineth interrupted. “We can walk together.”

Amroth took Devoran’s hand, bringing it to his lips. Her fingers trembled in his, which made him think she was not as impervious to him as she tried to portray. “Then I will meet you an hour after the breakfast bell, in the stable yard.”

Heat rushed to her face as he kissed her knuckles, but she nodded agreement.

---

Dol Amroth 26 February 3021

Devoran had to walk the length of the stable yard, giving Amroth ample time to study her. He knew he was staring because her colour had risen, but couldn’t stop himself. With her lovely hair tied loosely back from her face, and wearing a leather tunic over an embroidered blouse, plus legging and boots, she looked delectable. Not only that, she must be about the same size as Lothíriel. He could tell without a measure! It was probably the grin on his lips which made her hesitate.

“Is this acceptable? I do not have a riding dress.”

“Perfectly. If I was staring, it is because you look so nice.”

A hand rushed to her reddening face, and his grin turned to a chuckle. “Come on, come and meet Lady. I am sure you will suit.”

She gasped when she saw Lady, and put up her hand to pull at the mare’s quiff. “She’s lovely, Amroth. Such a pretty and unusual colour.”

“It’s called strawberry roan. I bought her on a whim, because she is so beautiful. Not that she’s really a man’s horse, I know. Although I ride her sometimes. But now that Lothíriel is going, I will have to ask Ana to exercise her more.”

Devoran looked surprised, which was understandable. “Ana rides well?”

“Yes, she went to Edoras as my sister’s maid. It is almost impossible to spend two months in Rohan without improving one’s riding skills.”

Lady, pleased to be going out, had started dancing around, eager to be off. Devoran looked a little wary.

“I hope that she will not be too much for me.”

“Do not worry.” Amroth picked up the long leather strap he had thrown over a rail. “I have no intention of letting you get away.  If we ride up through the pinewoods you can get used to her, and later if you feel confident we can gallop back along the beach.”

He attached one end of the rein to Lady’s bridle and the other to his own horse. “Aero will keep her under control.” Amroth grinned at her, not being able to resist. “He looks at her and she blushes!”

Devoran stared for a moment and then started laughing, giving him a good opportunity. “May I?”  She nodded, and he lifted her up so she could reach the stirrup, feeling her firm body through the leather tunic. Knowing it was as close as he was going to get, he banished any errant thoughts and concentrated on checking the straps and adjusting the length of the stirrups. Once sure she was comfortable, he gave the ready to the captain of the patiently waiting escort and then sprang onto Aero’s back.

Devoran glanced at the men as they formed up. “Do they mind coming with us?”

That made him chuckle. “Devoran, it did not occur to me to ask them.” All the response he got from her was a scornful grin. “Actually most need the practice; we have decided to mount all our troops.”

Once out of the city he took the road up between the two camps, keeping his eyes on her for a while – not a task he found at all irksome –  and making a few suggestions, struck once more by her natural balance and poise. “You will be fine; practice is all you need, too.”

As they passed the Harad camp, Prince Amal came out of his pavilion, a cup in his hand. He stood sipping his drink and raised his arm in greeting when he recognised Amroth.

“I saw him arrive; there were three women trailing behind,” Devoran remarked.

Amroth laughed. “Yes, they are all his wives. They do have some funny ways.”  Devoran listened open-mouthed when he told her the trouble the previous prince had caused.

“I am glad your sister is happy now, it sounds as if she will make a very good queen.”

“She will, I know.”

Judging she was perfectly able to cope with a longish canter, Amroth took the track that led through the strip of pines that lay between the main way to Edhellond and the beach, shorter and pleasanter than the road. Once Lady’s first flush of energy had dissipated he dispensed with the leading rein, judging Devoran to be competent enough. After a few hours they emerged on the dunes within sight of Aunt Ivriniel’s castle, the battlements rising above the dark trees. He pointed it out to Devoran, telling her of the old lady’s surprising marriage. But he didn’t want to ride any farther and be spotted, as she had returned to her home immediately after the wedding. So they sat on the banks of a rushing stream that tumbled down through the woods cutting a groove through the sand to the sea. With the horses grazing on the dune grass, they ate the tasty picnic provided by the Palace kitchens, entertained by the sight of the gannets plummeting into the depths after their own dinner. But conversation didn’t falter; he could have talked to Devoran all day. She wanted to know all about life along the coast, because although her mother had come from the northern banks of the Cobas Haven, she hadn’t been there since a child, and unlikely to now that her grandparents were dead.  But eventually, with the sun an hour past its zenith, he got up and stretched.

“Do you feel like a gallop? Lady will not run away with you.”

Laughing with enjoyment and exhilaration, she looked carefree. If nothing more came of their meeting, he felt glad to have wiped the sadness from her eyes, albeit only for a short while.

They slowed down long before they reached the city, trotting and walking the rest of the way to cool the horses. Devoran pointed to some peculiar marks on the sand and asked what they were.

“They are turtle tracks. The females lay their eggs at the foot of the dunes.”

“My mother’s lyre is made from a turtle shell.”

“Oh yes, I remember. If you come with me to the beach tonight we will probably see one, there are still a few late ones laying.”

Amroth sighed, exasperated when he saw her expression. He had never had the slightest inclination to force himself on any woman, and certainly not this one. Then he felt immediately guilty, for she could not know that. She obviously knew of his reputation and what was more, he remembered the lengths he and his brothers had taken to protect Lothíriel. Devoran had no one. The only one looking after her and her own good name was herself. The cousin was obviously useless if he gave up at the sight of one glare.

“Devoran, if your brothers had lived, I would hope that we would have been friends. There is one golden rule that true men abide by – treat your friend’s sisters as you would expect them to treat yours.” He quirked his eyebrows, grinning. “Others are fair game.”

 “You didn’t trust King Éomer,” she retorted, although her eyes gleamed laughter.

“No, but they were betrothed. And perhaps I didn’t trust my sister...” he mused. “But, Devoran, you have nothing to fear from me, and you would enjoy it.  My esquire can accompany us. It will do him good, he has done nothing for days except hold my cloak.”

 “Thank you, I would like that.” She flashed him an apologetic smile. “I know you think that I am being silly but….”

“It is all right, I understand. And you are not being silly, you are being very sensible.” But there was little time left and he wanted to make the most of it. “It is your last night so we must fit some dancing in. We can go to the beach later, there is more chance of seeing a turtle then.”

“We are leaving very early in the morning, but,” she hesitated before coming to a decision, “I will catch up on sleep when I get home.”

 Good, her company guaranteed another pleasant evening ahead. “There is one more thing. I spoke to King Elessar at breakfast this morning; he would like to meet you. I said that I would introduce you tonight. Straight after supper would be best.”

Her face stiffened with shock, which reduced him to laughter. “You will like him. He is really very nice, and not at all frightening, I promise.”

Another chance to hold her when she dismounted, but she quickly pulled away and the only one who got a hug was Lady. A beautiful horse and a beautiful woman, well matched. If he were choosing a mount for her he could not do better. Now that was quite a thought.

“She is lovely, Amroth. I have had a wonderful day, thank you.”

“Good, so have I. And we still have one evening to enjoy. I will send Ana, you will want a bath.”

“No, there is no need. It is too much trouble.”

“It is no trouble at all, and you cannot meet the King smelling of horses!”

Devoran gave in. “Well, thank you again. I will see you later.”

---

He thought she looked especially charming tonight, wearing the same soft green dress she had worn at the wedding. But her hair had been twirled into long loose curls that bounced against her back. Amroth waited, wanting to claim her again as soon as she rose from the chair next to Aragorn. They had been talking for quite a while, and because he had been watching her closely, he saw that she had gradually relaxed in Aragorn’s reassuring presence.

“Was I right, did you like him?” The first thing he asked when she joined him.

“Yes, you were right. And I am glad that you insisted. He is very kind, not a bit like I expected. And the Queen, I have never seen anyone quite so beautiful.”

True enough. “Yes, they seem to suit one another.”

They danced for a while, but he thought her unusually quiet. He wondered if she really did want to go home. It could not be much fun stuck on a mountain with a father in deep despair.

Another beautiful moonlit evening, but being early in the year the air had a chill in it.  When they walked to the beach he put his cloak around her shoulders.

“I am wearing it more than you.”

“It looks better on you.” In fact she looked wonderful, the dark blue emphasising her creamy skin. “The colour suits you.” He took her hand to help her over some rocks but did not let it go, and for once she did not object. Idly he wondered what he would have done if his esquire was not right behind them. Nothing more probably! For she made sure she left a big space between them when they sat down.

There was always something of interest to watch on the beach, night or day. She loved the little crabs that ran backwards and forwards, dodging the waves. But then he touched her arm and pointed along the dunes: an owl hung over the grass. A huge white ghostly shape, gliding softly, quartering its territory.

“What is it looking for?” she asked.

“Mice, they come out of the woods.” To his delight she cringed and wrapped the cloak around her legs, moving closer to him.

“What they really like of course, are the big, juicy, black spiders that live here. They come out of their holes at night.”

Devoran jumped, moving even nearer. She looked round and then her eyes widened when she saw quite how close she was. Esquire be dammed, he just could not resist it. Putting his hand lightly on the back of her neck he kissed her gently; her lips were cool and soft.

She didn’t pull away, but did nothing else either. “I am sorry, Devoran. I stole that one.”

“No, Amroth.”  Then she laughed softly. “I think you won that one, but most unfairly. Please do not do it again.”

“Look!” He pointed to the edge of the waves. A huge turtle lumbered out of the surf. They watched as she made her way slowly up the beach and started digging a hole not far from them. It took an incredibly long time but eventually the turtle settled herself to lay her eggs.

He took her hand again. “It will be there ages.”

“Then I had better go. I am not very popular with my cousin already and I must not oversleep in the morning.”

They made their way back to the city and he kept hold of her hand, dismissing the boy at the gates. Neither moved when they got to the door of the guesthouse, but stood looking at each other for a moment. He didn’t want to say goodbye yet, but couldn’t make up his mind what to do, or say. She forestalled him anyway, saying quietly.

“Thank you Amroth, you have been very kind. I shall always remember these few days.” In a quick movement she took off his cloak and pushed it into his hands, reached up and kissed him lightly on the lips.  Then she fled.

The door banged shut. She had gone, with only a taste of her sweetness remaining. Now what did he do? He felt empty. Sleep was out of the question. He could not face the hall, the tavern held no appeal. It would be foolish to take his boat out alone in the dark, so he headed for the stables. Aero had been out all day, but there would be another who would relish a gallop.

To be continued - when we find out some of Devoran’s thoughts.

Original Characters in this Chapter

Alhael-                 Devoran’s cousin. Son of Duinhir’s elder sister

Coruves-                Alhael’s wife

Luineth-               Wedding guest. Daughter of a shipbuilder

Oríon-                   Amroth’s friend.

Ana-                      Junior maid in the Palace

Princess Meren-   Elphir’s wife.

Chapter 3

The Morthond Vale

The journey seemed interminable, the sound of their voices incessant.  If it had not been safer to travel in company Devoran might have ridden ahead on her own, but it would be stupid to arrive at the wayside Inns as a lone woman. So she shut her ears to their blather and retired to her room immediately the small party arrived at their nightly stops. What could she say? Her cousins wouldn’t listen however many times she told them she hadn’t spent any time completely alone with Amroth.

At last they reached the final crossroads; Devoran heaved a sigh of relief. Alhael’s village lay a mile to the left at the beginning of a narrow valley that carved its way into the western side of the Vale, hers straight along the road. She could ride on up the Blackroot herself. “You will probably want to take the road straight to your home, Alhael. There is no need to come up to the house with me.”

“You mean you don’t want me telling your father what a slut you have been,” he answered with a sneer.

She’d had enough! You would think he’d be proud she’d attracted the attention of a prince. But he always liked to think the worst of her. “I doubt that Prince Amrothos would have introduced a slut to the King, do you?”

Without waiting for an answer she kicked Coll forward, leaving her cousin with his mouth open. Let him think on that! And with any luck Coruves would give him a hard time – she had been after meeting the King herself.

Devoran clattered into her home village to be met by the inevitable pack of dogs and children. Éldes was outside sweeping her porch. She looked up, smiling when she saw who disturbed the peace. “Oh, it’s you, my lady. Did you have a good time?”

A good time?  A wonderful, unexpected, bewildering time! But she said nothing of that. “Yes, thank you, Éldes. And how is Thathar? Is his chest any better?”

“A bit, my lady, now that the weather is warming. But those devils did for him; he will never be the same. Still,” she bent down and pulled out an errant weed from the paving before looking up at Devoran again, sadness in her face, “at least he came back.”

Devoran met her gaze, and nodded. So many hadn’t. But even those who did bore the scars, like Thathar and her father.

“I will get on; my father will have missed me.”

“Yes, you do that, my lady. He’ll be glad to see you home.”

Coll knew where he was going, the horse trotted eagerly up the steep road that led to his stable. The house stood out clear against the escarpment in the midday sun, glaring down the valley, solid and imposing. Her father would see her coming: she couldn’t imagine he would be anywhere else than in his usual chair at the dining-hall window. Not a cosy place to sit, but he liked the view. She doubted he’d get up to meet her.

There was someone to welcome her though. She heard the barking before turning the last corner, so slid off Coll quickly, ready for an exuberant greeting.

Drummer charged through the gate. Huge paws landed on her shoulders, a warm tongue lashed her face. “Drummer, get down!” Devoran tried to push him away. “You will have me over. Now that’s better,” she said as he bounced around Coll’s legs, the long suffering horse doing no more than blowing through his nostrils in disgust. “Stay still, Drummer, so I can stroke you.”

Eventually she managed to persuade Drummer to walk alongside her, and they headed for the house. Already she could see Ashild waiting at the door, wiping her hands on her apron.  And as she crossed the courtyard, Bregil came out from behind the house. A big beam split his face; they would both be glad to have her back. Better to spend the rest of the year with these two honest servants, than another hour in her cousins’ company.

“I’ll take him, my lady. You be getting in to see your father. He’s been asking for you.”

“Oh, thank you, Bregil.” Devoran started to undo her pack from behind the saddle. “Make sure Coll gets some mash. He’s looked after me really well.”

“Aye, I’ll do that, my lady.” The old man liked having another horse to take care of, and took hold of Coll’s reins eagerly, rubbing the gelding’s ears. “Come on, lad, you’ll be glad of a bit of rest.”

“Here, I’ll take that, my lady.” Ashild reached out for the pack as Devoran approached the door.

“No, you won’t. I can perfectly well carry it myself.” Devoran pulled it away from the outstretched hand. Ashild was getting too infirm to carry anything heavy, and Bregil not much better.  But there was someone else on her mind. “How is my father?”

Ashild sighed, her wrinkled skin puckering even more. “About the same, except he’s not eating much.  Perhaps having you back will persuade him to something other than a piece of bread. Not that we’ve got a lot else, except cheese. You will have to get your bow out, unless you want Bregil to butcher one of the goats. A bit of meat might tempt him.”

“I’d rather not lose a goat yet. But hopefully someone will bring us a deer, the herds will be coming back up from the lowlands soon.”

Ashild shot her a sour look. “I doubt if that cousin of yours will, my lady, but the villagers might. Now the weather is better they will be out. It’s about the only way most have of paying their dues.”

“We could certainly do with replenishing the larder.” She had known she would have to do something as soon as she got back. The end of the winter was always difficult, but this year…

“I think you’ll have to insist, my lady. Your father cares nothing about it.”

Devoran sighed. Things had been so tough after the war that her father had not wanted to collect the taxes for the first couple of quarters, and now he didn’t want to be bothered. But they had to eat. And even though the King had given them respite after the losses of the war, the reserve of coins was diminishing. Fat Alhael always charged full price for anything he delivered.

“Anyway, my lady,” Ashild carried on, “did you enjoy the wedding?”

“Yes, I did, a wonderful occasion. I will tell you all about it later. I’d better go and see Father first, I am sure he will have seen me coming.” Devoran put her pack down on a chair in the wide passage, casting her eyes around. She would need to get polishing; the wood had developed a dusty bloom in the short time she had been away. And flowers, the vases were empty. Little around this time of the year, but catkins looked nice and there were plenty of primroses.  The outside of the house might be neglected, but her mother had always kept it sparkling and homely inside. She wanted to do the same, for her father’s sake.

He looked up when he heard her footsteps on the flags and stretched out his hand. But he stayed in his seat.

Devoran took hold of his fingers, putting her other hand on a thin shoulder and squeezing gently.

“Missed me?”

“Ashild bullies me.”

She laughed. “Someone has to.” There was a light in his eye, it happened so rarely now. “I had a wonderful time, Father. I met the King.” Please let him respond normally.

“The King gave me a horse.”

“Yes, I rode Coll to the wedding. But it was the other king I met. Our new king. Gondor’s king.”

His brows drew together in thought, but then his eyes clouded and he shook his head looking down the valley again. “It’s going to rain.”

Devoran sighed, and hearing footsteps, looked around. Ashild shuffled across the hall, carrying a loaded tray.

“Here’s Ashild with some food, Father. I am very hungry, but it looks too much for one. Shall we share it?”

He ate a bit with her pressing every mouthful, but soon pushed the plate away irritably. Devoran gave up and left him looking out the window as always. She wanted some time to think by herself, but couldn’t get away for a couple of hours. Ashild wanted to know all about the King and Queen and what the ladies were wearing, and Bergil went on about Alhael. Devoran refused to ask her cousin for any more help, not when he gave it so unwillingly.

But at last she called Drummer, and set off to the other side of the walled garden, where she could sit on a boulder and glimpse the lowlands through the gap in the hills.

Drummer rushed around hopefully, but the rabbits had taken cover at the first bark. She would have to lock him up tomorrow and come down with her bow. “Drummer, they’ve all gone, you daft dog. Come here, will you!” He reluctantly bounded up at her calling.

“When will you learn to keep quiet, you silly thing,” Devoran chided him. But she patted his head when he sat at her feet, pushing his hairy body against her legs. “I am going to have to try and cut your coat, it is so uneven. Besides, it’s going to be far too hot in the summer, you are panting now.” 

Thinking he had seen something else Drummer went to run off again, but Devoran grabbed the fur around his neck.

“No, stay here. I want to talk to you.”  Resigned, and with his large tongue lolling out of his mouth, the dog sat back down, leaning against her.  “I have missed you, Drummer. Ashild said you have been very naughty, sneaking into my room and sleeping on my bed. You are not to do that. Well, at least you are not to let them know you do it: it is supposed to be our secret.” She took one of his ears between her fingers, rubbing the velvet flaps lovingly.

“Your ears are silky and soft but the rest of you is awful. I do wish you would let me bath and brush you. We must go to the river tomorrow and I will throw sticks. But it is not the same: you need a proper bath with soap. Stop it!” She pushed his head away. “You are not to lick my face!”

But she would not be honest if she did not admit to enjoying the dog’s unreserved affection. And it was only with Drummer she could forget her cares for a moment. But a jolt hit her – no not true! Amroth had made her forget them, and she wanted to tell Drummer all about him.

“No, you are not to go chasing rabbits again.” Devoran hauled him back as he made a final attempt to get away. “I said I want to talk to you, and anyway if you want to catch them you must stop barking. They are laughing at you, Drummer.”

She put both arms around his neck and hugged him. “I want to cuddle you. I want to tell you, Drummer, there is no one else. I want to tell you about my wicked, handsome Prince.” It looked as if he was content to sit now, so she let him go and sat back. If she spoke about Amroth, he would seem real, not just a handsome hero who had passed through her dreams leaving her unsettled and wanting. 

“I do not know where to begin, Drummer.”

Drummer whined softly, and rested his chin on her thigh, gazing up with expectant brown eyes.

She laughed; content to believe he was listening. “Yes, of course you are right, Drummer. I must tell you from the start.

“My room was so crowded. There were six of us girls, they were all giggling and laughing, Drummer. All except me.”  In fact she had felt so out of place that she couldn’t face the feast the first night, so had wandered outside the city gates to look at the sea.

“My mother loved the sea, Drummer, didn’t she? I think I love it too.” She’d certainly loved it in Amroth’s boat. But even now she found the events at the wedding almost unbelievable.  Why had a prince taken an interest in her?  Especiallywhen he could have had his pick, if the excitement in her room was anything to go by.

“I went to bed before the other girls came in, Drummer, but you should have heard their nonsense –

‘He is so handsome.’

‘He is so bad.’

‘Did he dance with you?’

‘He danced with me.’

‘I made my father introduce me. He did not want to.’

‘I will make mine tomorrow.’

“I put the pillow over my head, Drummer, and went to sleep.

“It was the same in the morning. They were looking out of the window.

‘Come and look,’ they said, ‘you have not seen him yet.’

“But by the time I got there I only saw his back. He was riding with his sister and they were going to meet King Éomer. All I could see was lots of blue and silver and great big horses.

“The courtyard was full with everyone waiting for the Princess to return with her King. So I went outside the city gate, Drummer, and stood with the people from the Port. It kept me away from my cousin and I was near to the sea.

“Then we saw them coming, a great long procession winding along the road. First came King Éomer, and the Princess was riding with him, sitting on his horse. They were smiling and laughing and waving to everyone. 

“And there he was behind them, leading the rest. What a sight that was. Everyone cheered.  There wasa guard of blue and silver, and one of green and gold. A Wizard and a Dwarf came next and a man dressed in an odd assortment of clothes. It was my Prince’s brother, Erchi, although I did not know it then. The Lords of Rohan with their flaxen braids and the Ladies with their long blonde hair. He was leading them all, Drummer.

“And the girls were right. He looked so handsome. Proud and handsome, and elegant, on that beautiful big grey horse  – his name is Aero, Drummer. And yes, my heart did flutter, although I pretended it did not.” 

She remembered thinking that she was not so different from the other girls, thrown into confusion by the sight of a black-haired prince on a fine, strutting horse. But if that had been all, she would not be feeling so disturbed now. With a sigh, Devoran acknowledged the start of the upset to her dull life – because she would not have walked with him and danced with him, would not have kissed him, if beneath that wicked, handsome Prince she had not seen the lovely laughing boy?

“You want to know about that, don’t you, Drummer? Well, I will try and explain.

“Just as they approached the city gates there was a cry! And a colourful toy with ribbons and bells went rolling in the road. I thought his horse would shy, but of course he trains them too well for that. He made it neatly sidestep and held up his hand. Everybody stopped. The little girl was crying, she thought she had lost her toy. But he smiled at her and spoke gently, Drummer. He told her to come and fetch it, that his big horse would not hurt her because he would make it stand quite still.

“And of course it did stand still, Drummer. Her father pushed her forward and she picked up her toy. It was so funny, Drummer. She tried to bow. She was only little and she looked so sweet. He grinned and laughed, and bowed right back. She was a little girl from the Port but he treated her like a princess.

“If I had been in the courtyard, Drummer, I would not have seen that lovely laughing boy.”

And perhaps the rest would not have happened, because she would have been much more wary. Devoran picked up a grass stem, twirling it around in her fingers as she remembered how her heart had been grabbed from that moment.  

“Anyway, Drummer I had to go and change for the wedding and it all started again. They could talk about nothing else –

‘Did you see him?’

‘He looked so splendid on that horse.’

“Then they turned to me.

‘Have you seen him now?’

‘Well, yes I have.’

‘And what did you think?’

‘I thought he was nice and kind’

‘Nice?’

‘Kind?’

‘He stopped the procession for a little girl to pick up her toy.’

‘So that is what happened.’

‘His father was very cross.’

‘Do you mean he stopped all those Lords and Ladies for a child’s cheap toy?’

“Yes, I thought it was very nice of him.’

“And I did, Drummer. I thought he was very kind.

“The wedding was lovely, Drummer. The Princess looked so beautiful and King Éomer so grand. They looked very happy, and I was glad for them.”

But she hadn’t been able to resist sneaking a look at Amroth, had she?

“He was sitting next to an Elven Prince, Drummer. He is handsome too, I suppose, with long, shining hair.

“I thought my Prince looked rather sad. He looked deep in thought. And of course I had no idea then, Drummer, of what would happen next.

“Can you imagine what I felt when I turned and saw him standing next to me? He has black eyes. Black eyes with a wicked twinkle, and he twinkled them at me. Why do you think that was, Drummer?  I really do not know why he wanted to spend so much time with me.  But he made me laugh and I have not laughed for a very long time.”

Yes, he made her laugh! So easily and so naturally, they could have been friends for years. Her brothers had made her laugh, teasing her, sometimes tormenting her. But always loving her… Now she was being stupid, Amroth had enjoyed her company, nothing more. Probably because he missed his sister.

“He took me out in his boat, Drummer, and his little nephew came. It is obvious he loves his uncle, and I am not surprised.” The memories of the boat trip brought more thoughts to the surface. “Why do you think he makes me blush Drummer? I cannot remember blushing much before.

“The girls in my room were very quiet. They hardly spoke to me.” If she had felt out of place before, she had felt ostracised after the boat trip. The gossipers must have already been busy. When the knock on the door had come – ‘Is Lady Devoran there? Your bath is ready, my lady.  Will you please bring your things?’ – she could have sunk through the floor.

“I went as quickly as possible, Drummer, and all the girls stood with their mouths open.” 

A strange experience, using his sister’s room. And the maid, Ana, had been a little odd. “She was very nice to me, Drummer, but there was something else in her manner that I just could not place. Perhaps she felt I should not be there.Butwhen I went for my bath the next day, she was different, happier, I think. We talked about Lady, and then she told me proudly. ‘I am getting married. He is very nice; I got friendly with him when we went to Rohan. But he is one of Prince Erchirion’s soldiers and stayed the winter to learn tracking from the Rohirrim. He asked me when he got back, just as soon as he had stabled his horse. I did not say yes straight away but now that I have met you, Lady Devoran, then I think that I will.’

“I have no idea what she meant, Drummer, what a funny thing to say. But before I could ask her, an older maid called Hisael came to see if I would like her to do my hair. She said that I must look my best for the King, but I am sure she came because she wanted to get a look at me. Can you remember, Drummer, years ago it seems, when my mother used to brush my hair?

“Amroth took me to the beach on that last night …and that was when he kissed me.  It was very nice and I could not be cross, he was so clever. I cannot help it, Drummer, can I, that I am frightened of spiders?”

She paused, remembering the walk back from the beach. He had held her hand, but neither of them had said much. And then reaching the guesthouse they’d just stared at each other, no words coming.

“I wanted him to hold me; I know he would have done. If I had taken one little step, he would have reached for me. Can you remember, Drummer, the last time somebody put their arms around me? I can. I remember quite well –

“My brothers hugged me tight, and then my father, and that was the last hug I ever had. My father kissed me and said he would be back quite soon.

 “When they were out of sight my mother cried. I put my arms around her, but she never hugged me again. I hugged her. She never brushed my hair or sang to me again, ever. My father did come home. But he came alone.

“You remember, Drummer: he went to hug my mother, but she turned away. So I put my arms around him instead. He has never held me since, has he?  But I keep on holding him.”

Devoran brushed at an escaping tear, crying would not help. “I wanted my Prince to hug me, but I was too scared. For if he had done that, Drummer, could I have come home? Could I have faced this accursed Vale if he had put his arms around me? I did not know, and I never found out, because I turned and ran away.”

Attuned to her mood as always, Drummer nosed his face into her lap. She patted his head, smoothing down the rough hair. “And now, Drummer, there is just you and me. But I will always remember the wonderful time I had with my Prince.”

Devoran gazed south, following the line of the Morthond River until it disappeared into the haze.  Her mother used to sit here, imagining she could see her old home along the shores of the Cobas Haven. Now she would come here too, looking towards Edhellond, and the high turrets of a castle that loomed above the trees. Then her mind might travel back along the vast beach where they had galloped, and farther, to the place below the city where he had kissed her. A memory to be treasured when the cares and worries of her grim life closed around her. A light for the dark days ahead when her father got worse, as she knew with horrible certainty that he would. With a deep sigh she got up. She must get back, the evening meal would be ready and her father would eat little if she were not there to cajole him.

“Come on, Drummer, you will want your supper, too.” The dog woofed and bounded ahead, but ran back panting after a few moments, his pink tongue flicking foam. At least she had Drummer to talk to.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Drummer, that I met the King. He was very kind and understanding. He told me that if I was ever alone, ever in need, then there was a home for me. A place at court. You would have to come too, of course.”

To be continued.

Original Characters in this chapter.

Alhael- G                  Devoran’s cousin. Son of Duinhir’s elder sister.

Coruves- G               Alhael’s wife.

Ana- G                      Junior maid in the Palace

Hisael- G                   Senior maid in the Palace. Once maid to Lothíriel

Thathar- G           A Bowman from the Morthond Vale. Wounded badly on the Pelennor.              

Éldes-G              Thathar’s wife.

Ashild - G                   Housekeeper to Lord Duinhir.

Bregil-  G                    General Servant, Ashild’s husband.

Chapter 4

Dol Amroth March 3021        

At least Déor looked the part, immaculately turned out in burnished mail and embroidered cloak. He wouldn’t disgrace the Riddermark amongst the Gondorian pageantry and splendour. Éomer wondered why it all had to be so formal – handing over Lothíriel’s protection from one guard to another. Turning his attention to Imrahil he just caught the prince wiping a hand quickly across his eyes. Ah… now he knew: Imrahil was hiding the emotion of his daughter’s departure under a covering of pompous ceremony.

With more understanding, Éomer let his gaze move to his wife. His wife…the small word did not do justice to the huge place she had already seized out of his life.  He watched lovingly as Lothíriel went to every guardsman, making time for a few moments’ conversation with each. Éomer couldn’t hear what was being said, but knew she would be thanking them for their past care of her. He also suspected she would be thinking about the ones who were missing. She might have put it behind her, but she would never forget.  She reached Durthor; he got a little longer than the rest, moving his leg to show her it hardly bothered him now. At the end of the line she spun around to face Sergion, and that was where formality ended. After a brief locking of eyes with her captain, she flung her arms around him, pressing her head against his chest.  

Éomer smiled to see her, and a finger dug him in the ribs. Now what was coming?

 “I doubt you will be pleased if she does that to Déor.” Amroth’s eyes gleamed a challenge.

“On the contrary,” Éomer retorted. “I shall be extremely pleased if she does.” He paused, the chuckle rising in his throat. “In about thirty years, when he is old and grey like Sergion.”

Amroth laughed. “I can’t imagine you have anything to worry about. It strikes me that my sister is besotted with you. Although I must say that I fail to see quite why.”                                           

“It is extraordinary,” Éomer agreed, grinning.  “But I am not complaining.”

“Well, Mithrandir must have got it right when he told her all that stuff.  And they were talking for ages the other night. Do you know what that was about?”

“No, I don’t. But no doubt she will tell me in time.” His attention was grabbed by the stamping of boots. Good, Sergion and Déor had saluted one another. “That’s it! Now she really is my responsibility.”

Amroth held out his hand, serious for a moment. “I won’t say look after her, Éomer, because I know you will. And I wish you every happiness.”

Éomer clasped it firmly. He knew how much Amroth would miss Lothíriel, and had noticed him to be rather subdued this past week, unusually thoughtful and preoccupied. Except, that was, when they had held an impromptu tournament, then he had fought like a demon.

“Come and visit us. Anytime you like.”

“I will, but I am committed here until the last lot of horses has arrived.” Amroth slapped him on the shoulder. “Now I had better go. I have to escort Prince Amal to his ship, he is leaving on the same tide as you.”

“You have spent a fair time in his company, I noticed.”

“They are not that different from us,” Amroth answered, shrugging. “In fact, I quite like him.” He smiled.  “Anyway, I will see you at the Port and make my farewells to Lothíriel there.”

With another clasp of Éomer’s arm, Amroth left his new brother and strode across to the doorway where Amal was waiting with his wives, watching the spectacle of the change of guard. True, he felt the Harad Prince did have an odd attitude to women. But perhaps he had the right idea; certainly appearing to have no trouble with them – they just followed on behind.  Which was more than he could say for himself.

He supposed it had come as a bit of a shock, having never worried much about women before. They were either there or they were not. The biggest problem he had had in the past was gently removing them from his life. Now the whole thing was giving him grief. He had spent the entire wedding feast admitting to himself that he wanted one, permanently. After which he had reluctantly decided that the chance of finding a suitable one was almost nil.

Then less than an hour later he was looking into those big honey eyes. Over the following two days the more he got to know her, the more he liked her. She was beautiful and funny, full of grace and poise. She had never sailed before or ridden much, but was not frightened. She was just scared of spiders. He very much wanted to kiss her again, to see her blush, but now she had run away.

That she had run away he had no doubt. She had deliberately pushed the cloak into his hands so that he could not reach for her, kissed him, and fled.

Why he frightened her so much he had no idea. One stolen kiss was hardly enough to provoke that reaction. True, if she had stayed he would have wrapped her in his arms, but what would he have done then, he wondered? He had just wanted to hold her. Perhaps he should have gone inside and dragged her out, but then what would have happened? He did not know. Now every time he closed his eyes, he saw chestnut hair, great big eyes and freckles, and all his dreams were of huge black spiders. And to make it worse Alphros kept asking at the most awkward times, usually when he was with Erchi, ‘when was the nice lady with the funny hair coming back?’ 

Amroth shook his head, angry with himself.  He was going to have to push it from his mind, but the palace would be so quiet with everyone leaving. Most of the Rohirrim had returned home the day before, only a small company were going to Emyn Arnen with their King, and his new Queen. Aragorn, Arwen and the rest of the court were leaving in the morning, and by the next day all the guests would have returned to their various castles and dwellings. He’d have to find something to do until the horses started to arrive again. Fighting was probably best. At least it got rid of some of his frustration.

---

Amroth let the water deluge over his head, washing away the sweat and grime of the prolonged bout. Feeling refreshed at last he stepped out from under the spout, pushing his sodden hair back from his face.

“Here.”

Erchi handed him a cloth and he wiped the water from his eyes. “Thanks. Your turn now.”

“Right.”  Erchi pulled off his shirt. “And are you up for a trip to the tavern tonight? I think I owe you one. You gave me a fright, thought you were going to beat me at last.”

Amroth laughed. He damn well would one day! And he had just got pretty near to it. He clapped Erchi on the arm. “I am not sure I feel like the tavern. It’s going to be a pleasant evening, I might go for a ride.”

“What!” Erchi pulled his head back, just before he ducked it under, looking at him aghast. “On your own again?”

“I need a gallop.”

Two prominent eyebrows rose in disbelief. “You need a woman!”

Not finding it easy to respond, Amroth said nothing. This allowed his brother to follow the feint with a thrust.

“You should have stopped all that mooning at the wedding and found yourself an available one. There were plenty around.”

“Not to my taste there weren’t.”

“Then all I can say, little brother, is that your taste must have changed.”

Amroth sighed: horribly afraid that Erchi had the measure of his unrest. He would go to the tavern. And he’d get drunk. That would sort him out.

But it didn’t. It only gave him a sore head. And he groaned the next morning when he saw Alphros coming down the passage towards him, thinking that he would probably get another grilling. But then he saw that the little boy was looking very miserable.

“What is the matter, Alphros?”

Trembling lips turned down in dejection. “I have lost Sauron.” 

“Sauron?”  What the deuce was he talking about?

“My spider.”

“Oh, your spider, of course.  Well, you had better go and get another.” Now he had said the wrong thing because he got an angry scowl back.

“How can I get another? They are not all the same, you know. Sauron was special, and I lost him.”

“I am sorry, Alphros,” Amroth said in a more understanding voice. “How did you lose him?”

“I put him down. I did not watch him and he ran away. Grandfather said that if you have something special you have to look after it.”

Amroth sighed. Why did he just not face the truth? “Your grandfather is usually right. Do you know where he is?”

“Talking with my father in his study.”

He ruffled the little boy’s hair. “Go and have another look, you never know.”

Further along the passage Amroth met his father’s steward, Ephrem, carrying a tray of tea. “Is that for my father, Ephrem?”

“Yes, my lord, it is.”

He held out his hands. “I will take it. Perhaps you would fetch another cup?”

The man went off and Amroth headed for his father’s door. He stood outside for a moment before taking a deep breath.

Imrahil looked up, alerted by a cross between a knock and a rattle.  The door flew open and Amroth strode in. Without saying anything he dumped the tray he was carrying on the side-table and marched straight to the seaward looking window. He stood staring out.

Imrahil and Elphir looked at one another. Elphir shrugged. They waited for whatever pronouncement would be forthcoming. Imrahil wouldn’t be surprised at anything: Amroth had been decidedly out of sorts lately.  Then shoulders went back, and his youngest son turned around to face him.

“Father, I have come to ask if you would mind if I went on a little trip?”

Oh! Was that all? It sounded harmless. “You have done more than your duty over the winter, Amroth. We could not have dealt with all the horses without you. You are certainly entitled to a break before they start arriving again. Do you wish to go to Minas Tirith for the Fourth Age celebrations?”

Dark eyes fixed on him. “No, I wish to go to the Morthond Vale.”

The Morthond Vale! Why there? But before he could enquire further, Elphir burst out laughing.

“Duinhir’s daughter! I wondered how long it would take you.” 

“Oh,” said Imrahil, enlightened. “The one with the ginger hair?”

“Chestnut,” snapped his son.

“Of course, chestnut.” Imrahil hid a smile and waited whilst another cup was delivered.  But as soon as the door closed, he spoke sharply. “Amroth, I do not usually interfere in what you do, but that family has had enough trouble heaped upon them. The last thing the girl needs is you dallying with her and causing more.”

Amroth stared straight at him, his eyes alight.  “I do not wish to dally with her, Father, I rather think that I wish to marry her.”

Having rendered them both speechless, Amroth grinned. “I think it is the only way that I will get within a yard of her.”

“A girl with sense then, Brother,” Elphir remarked, amused. “I must remember to congratulate her.”

But Imrahil’s mind was already busy on the implications of his son’s announcement. “Does she feel the same way, Amroth?”

“I really have no idea. She ran away before I could ask her.”

That was too much for Elphir, he doubled up. “I like her more and more!”

Amroth ignored him. “Would you object, Father?”

“Object! I would be highly delighted. In fact, it will be a big relief to have you settled. I live in perpetual fear of some irate husband challenging you to a duel.”

Laughing, Amroth waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, do not worry. They are usually fat and ugly. I would be sure to win.”

Imrahil went to the cupboard. It might be early, but some celebration was called for. “I think that the tea needs a little enhancing.”

---

Morthond Vale, March 3021

The woman gasped when Amroth introduced himself. She managed a bob of her head but then her interest darted from him to the deer and the two boars his men had hung from poles between the horses. Amroth winked at the little girl that peeked from behind her mother’s skirts before speaking to the woman again.

“I am looking for Lord Duinhir.” That brought her attention back to him.

She pointed up the valley “You can’t miss it, lord. The big house you can see built against that escarpment.”

“Thank you…?” Amroth preferred to address people by name.

“Éldes, lord.”

“Then thank you, Éldes.” Her eyes had flicked back to the meat. Amroth could understand that, their larders were likely to be empty after the winter. “Is the village celebrating tomorrow?”

“Aye lord,” the voice came from the doorway and a man appeared from out of the gloom. “We are going to make some effort, for the young ones mainly.” He came up to stand beside his wife. “Thathar, lord. I saw you on the Pelennor,” he said when Amroth’s eyes landed on him.

“Did you, Thathar? Then you must have followed your lord. It’s him I’ve come to see. And Éldes has already pointed out the house.”

Thathar looked up to the house that dominated the head of the valley. “Difficult to miss. But I doubt Lord Duinhir will join us for the celebrations. He’s not too well.”

“So I understand. Then perhaps the villagers can use one of these.” Amroth issued a quick order and a moment later the biggest boar was propped, still on its pole, against a stone wall.

“That’s mighty kind, lord.” Thathar beamed. “We will be able to have a real celebration.  We’ve permission to go for the deer, but no one’s had much luck as yet, so it would be one of the goats, or a few hares. And they’re a bit skinny still.”

Éldes had already gone to prod the boar. “We haven’t had one since before the Lord’s sons went to war,” she mused.

“And not likely to again. You can be sure Lord Alhael,” Thathar spat expertly on a struggling weed as the name left his lips, “wouldn’t part with any. Even if the fat maggot did manage to lift the spear to bag one. Although it would be better if he skewered himself.”

“Thathar!” His wife admonished, looking frightened. “Watch your tongue.”

“There’s not much anyone can do to me now,” Thathar responded. “I’ll speak my mind and take the consequences.” He looked straight at Amroth, lifting his chin. “And if you are going up to the Big House, lord, no doubt you will find out the way of things. You can judge me then.”

“There is no law against telling the truth, if truth it is, Thathar.  And, as you say, I am likely to find out.” He raised his hand to Éldes. “Good day to you.”

He left them to it. By now the houses along the road were beginning to empty, mostly of the old and the young. They stared astounded, muttering and nudging each other: a Prince, an Esquire, a Captain, eight soldiers and a pair of hounds, caused quite a stir.  But the whole place had a cheerless feel and already he blessed his father’s suggestion that they go well provisioned, and was glad they had hunted for more than their own requirements.

Leaving the village, the last following dog shooed away, Amroth saw women and men working in the fields. Lots of children around, but he knew it must be hard with so many young men lost.

The first thing he noticed as he approached the house was the general air of disrepair: a gate into a paddock tied up with rope, and a fence battered down. But the stockade looked sound. And the main gates stood open, they looked solid enough.

Seeing no one around, he rode straight into the courtyard towards the house and immediately furious barking started from behind a heavy, carved door. Amroth sent the hounds to the back of the line and waited.

The door opened, and Devoran stood there, holding the collar of the biggest, hairiest, scruffiest dog he had ever seen.  She wore a plain green dress and her only adornment was her glorious hair, but his heart leaped. One hand went to her mouth in surprise, the other let go of the dog, which bounded forward barking madly. Amroth’s battle trained horse stood immobile. He looked the angry animal in the eye.

“Down!”

The dog skidded to a halt, and meeting Amroth’s fierce stare, sat.

“I said, down!”

The dog grovelled on the ground, tail thumping the stones.

But by that time Devoran had reached him, looking flustered and confused. And pretty. Lips twitching, Amroth looked from her to the dog and back to her. “Devoran, that dog needs a bath, a haircut and brushing.”

“Then you will have to do it,” she retorted, glaring at him. “Drummer refuses to let me.” But then she dropped her eyes and said softly. “Amroth, why are you here?”

He waited until she looked at him again. “Why do you think I am here, Devoran? I came to see you.”

All sorts of emotions passed across her face, uncertainty being the dominant one. But he thought – hoped – he saw a hint of pleasure too, quickly hidden.

“Then you had better come in and meet my father. There are stables behind the house, hay in the barn, but no stable hands.”

Amroth took his feet out of his stirrups. At least she was letting him in. “Do not worry.  My men will see to everything. And we will put you to no trouble, I have brought tents.”

“No!”  Pride flashed in her eyes as she quickly assessed their numbers. “We have rooms for you and your Captain, the men will have to share. But we might need help to light all the fires.”

He passed his horse over to his esquire, took her arm and went through the outer door into a wide passage. In contrast to outside, the interior of the house shone. Glowing woodwork and big bunches of spring flowers showed the care given it. She took him into a large dining-hall with a window looking down the valley; an old man was sitting there staring out. He turned on hearing the footsteps, smiling at his daughter. Devoran introduced him and Duinhir managed to clasp his arm, but after a few polite words he turned back to the window. Amroth felt sick, he could not believe that this was the same man who had proudly come to the aid of the White City just over two years before.

Devoran didn’t remark on her father’s behaviour, so he said nothing, letting her lead him away.

“I will show you your room, and then I must help Ashild prepare some supper.”

Weren’t there any other servants? Did she have to do it? “You must not worry too much. We have brought plenty of meat, and other things.”

“So I saw.” She smiled. “But the meat will take too long to cook today, and you must be hungry. I have enough for tonight but I will need to go and make some bread. Bregil will show your men where to put the game. There is also a barrel of ale, it needs drinking, if someone will fetch it from the cellar. And there is a stack of firewood outside. Bregil is getting old, so perhaps your men could help him.”                                      

Amroth left his captain, Gidon, to sort out the men and find the ale. After washing away some travel dust, he sought out the kitchen. Large and clean it might be, but it bothered him that Devoran had to work in it.  Even though she looked utterly charming standing at a scrubbed wooden table kneading dough.

 “That dog tried to jump on my bed, and you have flour on your nose.”

Devoran wiped off the flour with the corner of her apron, and grinned at him.  She seemed to have relaxed a bit. “You must keep your door shut tight, you have obviously made an impression.” Her eyes focused behind him and Amroth realised Drummer had followed him into the kitchen.

“Out!”

Meeting Amroth’s uncompromising stare, Drummer slunk back through the door.

 “How do you do that?” Devoran asked, frowning over the top of her dough.

“You just have to be firm. Tomorrow we will bathe him, he is quite disgusting.” He softened his voice seeing her looking a bit affronted “He’s very loyal, where did you get him?”

“He arrived not long before my father went to war, starving and with all his fur singed.  His poor paws were sore from walking. Father let him stay, and now I love him.”

“Lucky dog,” Amroth responded instantly, looking deep into her eyes.

Devoran stared dumbly at him, her colour rising, but was saved from making any comment by the arrival of Ashild with a large basket of vegetables.

“I imagine,” Amroth carried on as if he had just been passing the time of day, “that he came over the mountains from Rohan. Many of their villages were burnt to the ground.”

“Yes, that is what we thought. Now, if you want any supper I must get on.”

“What are we having?”  he asked, enjoying her discomfiture.

Devoran slapped the hunk of dough down on the board. “Rabbit stew!”

But there was more than rabbit stew: a goat’s cheese, tangy and ripe, was put on the side, and Ashild found a few jars of preserved fruit left in the larder. It turned into quite a merry meal, even though the soldiers were inhibited at first, for they normally only all sat together around a campfire. But the ale relaxed them. Gidon kindly spent the whole time talking to Duinhir even though it was a very one-way conversation.

Once they had finished eating, Amroth looked towards the lyre that was propped in a corner of the room. “Devoran do you play and sing like your mother?”

Her lips trembled. “I do. My father likes it, although it usually makes him cry.”

Amroth sat back to keep himself from wrapping his arms around her. Wanting to comfort her, it irked him not being able to even hold her hand. “You know, Devoran, when my sister went missing for a week, I watched my father change from a proud, strong man, to one who was grey and old. If Lothíriel had not come back, things at home would be very different.”

Devoran smiled at him, blinking back a tear. “Thank you.”

“Well, are you going to play?”

She nodded and pushed back her chair, going over to the lyre. Her face changed as she picked it up, coming alive when she fingered the strings.

He knew it would be beautiful. It had been obvious from the first moment he danced with her that she was full of rhythm and music. She sang songs of the sea that she said her mother had brought from the coast and then ballads of the mountains that her grandmother had taught her when she was little. Everyone ignored the tears running down her father’s face.

---

March 25 FA1

Not quite the way Amroth thought he’d be celebrating today; his brothers would laugh their socks off if they could see him. “Keep still, you disreputable animal!” 

“You’ve got soap suds in your hair.” Devoran’s lovely eyes sparkled with laughter, and she reached across the tub and batted them away.

Good job his hands were stuck in the dog’s fur or he would have grabbed her, she looked so delectable. There were compensations for missing the festivities at home.  He let his eyes linger on her face, whilst still rubbing soap into Drummer’s fur. Under his scrutiny the smile gradually left her, but she held his gaze. Now was his chance. “Devoran…”

“My lady, what about the deer?”

Startled, they both swung around: Bregil had come from behind the barn.

“Oh… the deer.”

“Shall we joint it, or roast it outside, my lady? Only we will have to get it going if we want to eat it tonight.”

Devoran looked as though a deer was the last thing on her mind, but recovered herself quickly. “Yes, it’s a special day, Bregil. And the weather looks set fair. Let’s roast it whole outside.”

Bregil nodded. “Then I’ll get some of your men to help, my lord, if that’s all right. They’ve finished the gate.”

“Yes, that’s fine, Bregil.” He’d set the men to do various chores as well as dig a bit of Devoran’s vegetable garden after discovering she had no wish to ask her cousin for help. And the man was unlikely to send someone graciously, anyway.

Bregil went off. Devoran watched him for a moment before turning back with a wistful smile on her face. “We have a large spit, all the village used to come for celebrations. It was great fun. I hope they enjoy themselves today.”

“I left a boar in the village.” Amroth told her.

Her face lit with pleasure. “Did you? That was kind. They will be really pleased. ”

He thought how very different it must have been before the war. Now her people were struggling and she had had to let the servants go and do many of the chores herself.  Amroth sighed, it could have been worse for all of them. “I think he’s clean.  I will rinse the soap out and then take a razor to his fur.”

She looked a bit doubtful, but Drummer surprised her by standing still and letting him get rid of a great weight of hairy coat.

“He does not look like the same animal. You look lovely, Drummer.” She flung her arms around the dog and hugged him.

“The dog gets all the luck!” Amroth murmured under his breath.

Devoran looked up at him bubbling with laugher. If she had heard she was ignoring it, still only interested in the dog. “I hope he will let me bathe him in future.”

With a sigh, Amroth took Drummer by the scruff of the neck and looked him in the eye. “From now on, Drummer, you will do exactly as your mistress tells you. Do you understand?”

Drummer cocked his head on one side, looking the soul of innocence, and wagged his tail.

The bath finished, Amroth started on the wood pile, in spite of Devoran’s protestations. “It’s good for me. Splitting logs is excellent at helping to develop muscles, especially those needed to wield a sword.” She gave up arguing and went off to organise the meal for everybody. They intended to have some kind of celebration.

Throughout the afternoon the smell of roasting venison filled appreciative nostrils. The men gradually finished their tasks, and hearing noise wafting up from the village, Amroth put down the axe. He guessed they had started on the ale down there. Aware that he’d dragged his men up into the mountains on this special day, he offered them the chance to join the villagers where they would likely get a livelier time, but surprisingly all preferred to stay. A table was carried outside and Devoran and Ashild loaded it with baskets of newly baked rolls, cheese and pickled cabbage, plus some dried fruits Amroth had brought from home. The evening had its own quiet charm with Devoran singing and playing her lyre and one of the soldiers producing a flute. Amroth spent most of the time trying to think of a way of getting Devoran on her own, but she gave him no help whatsoever. In fact she made sure he got no opportunity for even a few minutes by taking her father’s arm when bedtime came.  Frustration mounted. Sleeping in a room so near to her was extremely disturbing and he was absolutely sure that the dog slept on her bed.

---

Whack! The log split down the centre. The two pieces flew out to the sides, one narrowly missing Drummer who had crept close once more. “Don’t you even think of making a bed on my shirt again.” Amroth warned him.

Whack! The pile of wood grew. He had spent most of the morning at it, finding it an excellent way of venting his feelings. Amroth knew he was going to have to speak to her soon, even if the answer was one he would not like. Trying to work out what to say, and how to get the opportunity to do so, he became aware of a prickly feeling on his back. Turning around he saw Devoran standing not far away, attention fixed on him.

He was well aware of the effect that he had on a considerable number of women, young and old, and not particularly vain about it. Just a very useful accident of birth. Unfortunately, whatever asset he possessed had so far not helped him with this one.  Until that moment, he thought, as he saw a flash in her eyes. But it vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. Now she just looked shocked.

He burst out laughing at her expression. “Devoran, do not tell me that you never saw your brothers without their shirts!”

“You, Amroth, are not my brother!”

“Well, that is a comment that gives me hope.” Her mouth twitched and he carried on. “Where are you going with that basket, because wherever it is, I am coming with you!”

“I am going to plant these beans, since your men have kindly dug some ground. If you wish to come with me then please put on your shirt.”

Still laughing, he shrugged on his shirt and took the basket from her. It contained seed beans, gloves and a trowel.

The walled garden was warm and he was relieved to see, private. It smelt of herbs and fresh soil. A small gang of Mountain Choughs – yellow beaks probing for worms in the newly turned earth – fluttered in the air before settling again to carry on their search. But they soon took off as Drummer charged, rising hurriedly into the air, their echoing call voicing racketing displeasure. The choughs dispatched, Drummer rushed off seeking rabbits, and Devoran took Amroth over to a corner that had been recently dug.

“I will plant them. You can hold the basket and pass me a few at a time.”

He nodded, and did as he was told. Concentrating on her task she didn’t speak, but every now and again held out her hand for more beans allowing their fingers to touch fleetingly. Each time a shock of awareness pulsed through him and he had to pummel down the urge to grab her hand and pull her up into his arms.  When she bent again to her task he wanted to push the heavy hair away from the nape of her neck and kiss the creamy skin underneath. Damn it… he wanted to taste her lips again. But what would she do if he tried any of it? Dig him with the towel probably.

Suddenly he felt very angry that the Lord’s daughter, such a feminine, graceful girl, should be planting beans. Why on earth didn’t that useless cousin arrange something? He had talked to Bregil about him and found out that the old man all but hated him, as not only had he not gone to war himself but did not allow any of his household to go either. If everyone had taken that attitude none of them would be here. Now of course he was thriving and the rest of the valley suffering. Amroth hoped he did not turn up, as it would be extremely temping to shaft him right through his fat gut.  Then he realised that Devoran was waiting for the last few beans and that they were almost finished. The last few were going to be planted right in the corner.

She stood up, and as she turned around he took a step forward, putting one arm on each wall. He had been planning it for ages, knowing he had to make some move.

“Caught you!” He laughed as she looked wildly for escape; the only way was to duck under his arm. He rather hoped she would, as he could catch her around the waist. But she did not; she just gave a resigned sigh as if accepting the inevitable. What was she afraid of?

 “Devoran, I just want to talk to you.”

Her mouth quirked in a half smile. “Well then, Amroth, what do you wish to say?”

He took the plunge, it might be the only chance he had. “Devoran, since we met I can think of nothing else but you. I’ve fallen in love with you. Please, will you marry me?”

She did not even look surprised; she just shook her head, her eyes empty of emotion. “No. I am sorry, but I cannot.”

“Cannot? Or do not wish to? There is a big difference and I need to know.”

“I cannot leave my father.”

He had already thought of that. “There is plenty of room in the Palace, he can come as well.”

She shook her head again. “He would not leave here, you do not understand.”

“Then tell me, Devoran, make me understand.”

She looked up to the mountain that rose behind the house. “The escarpment up there, it is where we found my mother. She never went there, she hated heights. It was no accident, Amroth.” Honey eyes filled with hurt. “My father and me, we were not enough for her. She wanted her sons. I am all he has, I cannot leave him as well.”

Love, compassion, all welled up together and Amroth did what he had been desperate to do ever since meeting her: he wrapped his arms around her and held her close against him. She clung to him, burying her head in his chest whilst he held her tight.  Then, after a while, she looked up, eyes brimming with unshed tears and said quietly, “Amroth, please go. Please just go.”

To be continued.

Déor-  R                 Friend of Éomer’s.  Captain of the Queen of Rohan’s Guard.

Durthor-  G             One of Lothíriel’s Dol Amroth guardsmen.             

Sergion-  R               Captain of Lothiriel’s Dol Amroth. Guard.

                                  Father of Oríon.

Ephrem- G               Imrahil’s Steward.  

Gidon – G                Amroth’s captain              

Devoran- G              Lord Duinhir’s Daughter.

Thathar- G           A Bowman from the Morthond Vale. Wounded badly on the Pelennor.              

Éldes-G              Thathar’s wife.

Ashild - G                   Housekeeper to Lord Duinhir.

Bregil-  G                    General Servant, Ashild’s husband.

Alhael- G                  Devoran’s cousin. Son of Duinhir’s elder sister.

Dol Amroth March 3021

Leaving had been the hardest thing that he had ever done. Even leading out a company of his father’s troops to face the hordes of Mordor, knowing that he could not show a moment’s fear or hesitation, had not prepared him for this awful wretchedness. He had only had the strength to come away at all because staying any longer made the agony worse, for her and him. They had sat on the seat in the garden and talked for what seemed like hours, but he knew that it was no good. Whatever she felt in her heart; in her mind she was just not free.

Amroth dragged his eyes away from the sea and turned back to his father. “She is wasting her life away.”

“My son, you cannot build happiness on another’s pain and grief.”

Why was his father always so damn right! “I told Devoran that I would wait for her.”

A sympathetic hand landed on his shoulder. “Amroth, it could be a very long time.”

Throwing off his father’s well meant concern, and needing to be alone, Amroth strode to the door, grabbed the handle and wrenched the heavy wood towards him. Just about to dive out into the passageway, he stopped, and turned back to his father, voice breaking with emotion. “I want no other!”

The door slammed shut. Imrahil stared at it for a moment before moving over to the place in front of the window so recently vacated by his son. Rarely had he seen Amroth show such passion and had no doubt the lad meant what he said. His two youngest shared many traits, and as Lothíriel had given her heart completely and forever, Amroth would have done the same.

But the old man could live for years. Imrahil rubbed his chin; there must be some way of sorting a solution. He would think on it.

Morthond Vale March FA1                                                                

Devoran stared down the valley. She felt numb. So numb that not a tear had flowed the past three days.  Loneliness and despair had brought her to the viewpoint by the walled garden at every opportunity. Looking south and imagining where he would be on the road brought her some comfort. But she knew that by now he’d be home.  Perhaps looking up at the mountains wondering what she was doing.

As if in sympathy, a heavy body leant against her legs. Devoran put her hand down to Drummer, fondling him gratefully; he always knew when she was upset. “I haven’t talked to you about it, have I, Drummer? I want to, but I know I will cry.”

When she felt Drummer’s wet tongue on trembling fingers, any resolve to be strong crumbled. Devoran sank onto the grass and leant back against the boulder. She put her arms around his neck laying her head against his soft fur, the tears already starting to trickle down her cheeks. Within moments sobs shook her in great wracking waves. Drummer whined anxiously, swivelling his head to try and lick her face. Devoran cuddled him tighter pouring her grief into his warm body until finally, exhausted by the outpouring of misery, she took deep gulping breaths.

Quivering and weak, she wiped her face with the back of her hand. A good job there was no one around to see her. Or Drummer, because she’d made a large wet patch on his fur. Sniffing, she smoothed her hand over it. “I am sorry, Drummer, I have spoiled your nice coat. Will you let me brush it? My Prince told you that you must.”

Even thinking about the fun they’d had threatened to start her off again, but determinedly she took a steadying breath. If she spoke about it, perhaps the pain would ease. “You don’t mind listening do you, Drummer? There is no one else.”

Drummer answered her with another lick, happier now that she had stopped crying. Devoran sighed. Where should she begin? At the important bit, she supposed.

“I love him, Drummer. Did you guess?” Drummer cocked his head to one side. Ears pricked, waiting for more.

“Yes, of course you did.” She sighed; only now could she admit the truth to herself.  “But did you realise that I loved him from the start? I loved him, Drummer, from the moment he grinned and bowed to that sweet little girl.

“I knew why he had come here, Drummer.” A bleak lump rose in her throat, catching her breath. Never had she expected it, but the moment she’d opened the door she had known. “Some things just feel so right, don’t they? Even though I knew it could never be. That’s why I tried not to be alone with him at first. But of course, that was not fair. I love him, Drummer and I have sent him away.”

Devoran bit her lip hard to stop the tears as a picture of Amroth’s face appeared clearly in her mind. She gulped, determined to remember the pleasurable bits. “It was fun when we bathed you. There were soapsuds everywhere. He did not look much like a prince, did he, Drummer, with soapsuds in his hair?

“I gave in when I saw him chopping wood. I knew I would say no. I had to, but I couldn’t make him wait.”  She supposed she’d been putting it off ever since he had arrived, not wanting to face a desolate future when it could have been so different. But at least she had wonderful memories to fall back on.

“I will always remember him laughing at me. He did not need to chop wood, Drummer, he has muscles aplenty. His skin is smooth and tanned, and you know, Drummer, I did like looking. He has a scar right along his side. And black hair, not too much, just a little, running down the middle of his chest and that lovely flat brown stomach.  It gave me shivers, seeing him without his shirt. Should a maid feel like that? Should she pretend that she does not?” A hand flew to her face, feeling the heat at the mere thought.

“He said he would wait. Do you think he will? He even said he would stay here with me.” Drummer sat back on his haunches and lifted a leg to scratch his ear, looking as sceptical as she had when Amroth had said those things. Her laugh sounded hollow even to her ears. “Good to dream, Drummer, but princes have responsibilities. He has troops to command and horses to train. And I couldn’t let him leave all that he has known to dwell in a far-flung vale with a girl from the mountains. He lives in a palace, Drummer, and he loves the sea. He’d soon get fed up so far away from it.”  Swallowing down her despair, she reached out a hand and scratched Drummer’s ear for him.

“It was silly for him to say that, Drummer. But kind, because he is nice and kind.”

Devoran stared down the valley, whispering into the air, “Which is why I love him.”

Desolation hit her like blow. She was sure now that if he returned, she’d never have the strength to send him away. Not expecting his love at the start, the power of it had shaken the foundations of her ties to her father. “He said he would come back for me, come back one year from today. Do you think he will? It is a very long time.”

Too long! So much could happen. No enchanted ending certain for her.

Devoran shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she struggled to her feet. A sharp wind had got up whilst she had been talking to Drummer, now dark clouds marched up from the coast smothering the sun with their anger. She felt stiff and cold.

“Do you think it would have been better if he had not hugged me? I think it is going to be even harder now, because hugs are wonderful. He wrapped his strong arms around me and I liked it very much.”

Thinking about Amroth’s arms around her only made the lead in her stomach heavier. She needed to put the pain away and remember the good bits. The best thing to do would be to walk back to the house passed the wood pile and imagine she could see him there laughing at her. If she did that every day, and also came here and looked towards Dol Amroth, it would give some joy to her life. 

“Come on, Drummer, a storm is on its way. And I’d better go and make sure Father eats something, he’s gone off his food again since Amroth left.”

Not being able to resist, she took once last look down the valley. Immediately her attention was caught by a smudge of colour against the greying landscape. Two figures on horseback were coming up the track to the house. She stared for a moment and then with a jolt recognised the piebald mare.  …Oh no! Not today! She couldn’t bear it. Devoran rushed back up the path towards the house, hardly having time to glance at the woodpile. She’d have to wash her face and lock Drummer in the stables before her cousin got here. Alhael disliked dogs, and Drummer hated him, taking every opportunity to nip at his fat ankles.

The bolt slammed home on the stable door; Devoran ignored the indignant howling. She shot into the house passed an astonished Ashild, straight to her room. Minutes later, with cold water splashed on her face, a brush run through her hair, and a clean shawl around her shoulders, she pulled open the big outer door. Ashild must have spotted Alhael coming because she had disappeared into the depths of the kitchen.

Alhael had his eyes on her as he rode across the courtyard, but he said nothing. He waited for his servant to dismount before he heaved himself to the ground, shoving the reins into the unfortunate man’s hands without a word. The pig! He treated all those beneath him with rudeness and distain. Her aunt had been a lovely lady, how did Alhael grow up to be so horrible. Perhaps because his father had died when he was young, but that was no real excuse.

Guessing from the scowl on his face that he had heard about Amroth being here, she prepared for the censure. The news would have travelled across the valley like a summer blaze. But she would not let him intimidate her, and took a step towards him, intending to be polite.

“Good afternoon, Cousin.”

He launched straight in, not bothering with a greeting. “That depraved prince was here, you need not deny it.”

“I have no intention of denying it.” Devoran snapped, already stung by his tone. “I now have mended fences, newly turned earth and salted meat.”

He chose to ignore this, not surprisingly as he did nothing himself to help her. “Why was he here?”

“Prince Amrothos had been hunting and brought the villagers a boar.”

“There was only one thing he was hunting, Devoran. And we are all aware was that was.”

Anger kindled, but she spoke sweetly. “He came with his men. My father welcomed them and opened his home to them. Do you think he abused that trust?”

 “Did he sleep in the house?” Alhael’s eyes narrowed and she had the distinct feeling he wanted to think she had behaved badly. Devoran willed herself to keep hold of her temper; he always brought out the worst in her.

“He was given the best guestroom. He is a Prince of the Realm, should he have slept in the barn?”

His face turned puce at the veiled reprimand and he caught her arm. “You!” he spat out furiously, “have disgraced our name.”

Devoran pulled her arm away, a scornful laugh on her lips. “Luckily, my name is not your name, and my name has never been disgraced!”

That hit home. The coward! Without another word, he stalked past her into the house.

“Do not upset Father!” She called angrily after him. The man was impossible! If he had given her any help after her father had taken ill, she might have respected him, but now she owed him nothing. And if her great-grandfather had not been so narrow-minded as to entail the house to nearest male heirs regardless of other claims, she would not have to put up with him at all.

Upset, she wanted some solace, and went around to the woodpile. Amroth was there of course, laughing and grinning at her, just as she knew he would be. Whatever her cousin said, she would hang on to that.

Moments later she heard Alhael yelling for his horse. It sounded as though he was not even going to stop for refreshment. Ill mannered toad! With any luck he would get soaked before he reached home. She hurried back to the courtyard.

He swung around at the sound of her footsteps, and glared at her. “Your father is as deluded as you! That prince has only one thing on his mind, Devoran, and don’t you forget it!”

Alhael dragged at his poor horse’s reins struggling to get a foot in the stirrups. He hauled himself into the saddle and kicked the mare viciously and headed her for the gate, leaving his servant to follow as best he might.

Whatever had happened in there? Devoran stared after her cousin for only a moment before hurrying into the house. She met Ashild coming out of the kitchen.

“Is my father all right, Ashild?”

“I don’t know, my lady. I heard him shouting, but I kept out of the way.”

Shouting! Her father hadn’t shouted for months! Devoran ran along the passage, but when she got to the hall she slowed. Thankfully her father was in his usual position, looking out of the window. Hearing her, he turned and she caught her breath. He had a strange look on his face. A triumphant look.

“Are you all right, Father? Can I fetch you something?” She went over and put her hands on his shoulders.

He took her hand and pulled her around so that he could look into her eyes. He looked alive, more alive than she had seen him for months. A slow smile crossed his face. “The Prince, Devoran, he came for you.”

Devoran froze. She had said nothing. “He came for the hunting, Father. Why should he come for me?”

“Because you are beautiful. Beautiful like your mother.  He asked me if he could court you for a wife.”

Heart hammering, Devoran stared at him. Amroth had not told her that. “What did you say to him, Father? What did you tell him?”

But she was already losing him. “Alhael didn’t believe me, but I remember.” His face saddened and his voice dropped so low she could scarcely hear, but he squeezed hard on her fingers. “I am sorry, Devoran, I am in your way.”

“No, you are not. Do not be silly, Father.” She knelt down hugging into him. He felt so thin and fragile, and he had been such a strong man. But the light had gone again, and tears glistened in his eyes. Devoran stayed there until her knees were stiff, but he never said anything else.  Somehow she must try and make him eat. Drummer padded across the flags towards her, Bregil must have let him out. Getting up, she ruffled his ears, but turned back quickly hearing a harsh gurgle.

“Father, what is it?” He’d slumped forward, and Devoran just caught him before he fell out of the chair.  She tried to heave him back into his seat, but he was so heavy in spite of his thinness. Breathing hard, she managed to prop him up.  She was so desperately afraid of what had happened to him that her hands trembled as she pushed aside his hair. One of his eyes twitched the other looked dead. And his face! What had happened to his face!  The left side sagged and drooped. He’d had some kind of seizure.

“Ashild! Bregil!” She called frantically for help. They would have to send for the wise-woman. Her father’s hand clutched at her skirt, he was mumbling incoherently with dribble coming from his lips. “Ashild!” she called again. There was no way she could get him to bed on her own. Whimpering in distress at what was happening, Drummer rubbed against her legs.

“Oh, Drummer,” she whispered through her tears. “I think Father is really gone this time. Gone where I cannot reach him.”A great surge of loneliness and fright overwhelmed her for a moment. “They have all gone now; it really is just you and me, Drummer. Just you and me, in this accursed vale.”

–-

Lower Morthond May FA1

He’d been a fool to come up here, but unable to resist.  Better to have waited for the horses at home, not ridden to meet them. Being this near had started an unrelenting urge to cross the river and take the track that led to the Blackroot. And a night spent tossing and turning in indecision on the hard ground had left him irritable and stiff. The truth was that whatever he tried to do to distract himself, nothing worked. His mind kept straying back to Devoran and what he could do to resolve the situation. He could be there in a few hours, but what would it change?

“I can hear horses, lord.”

Startled out of his reverie, Amroth heard the rumble of many hooves, but still a way off. Too late now to even think about riding up the Vale, and his duties would keep him busy for many weeks. He realised Gidon had his eyes on him speculatively. No hiding his feelings from his Captain, he needed to concentrate on the job in hand.

“They’ll have a scout out in front in case of anyone on the road; send someone to meet him, will you.” Amroth jerked his head back over his shoulder. “We will wait for them in that hollow.”

Gidon nodded and dispatched a soldier. Amroth wheeled Aero and trotted back down the road to a clearing that dug into the hillside: sweet grass, and a stream. They might like to camp here, although it would drive him mad sleeping so close to the way up to the Vale.

The rumble grew, echoing around the surrounding hills. The Rohan scout appeared riding with the Dol Amroth soldier. They joined the party waiting by the stream. Now Amroth looked in anticipation to what would be coming around the bend. All the other horses Éomer had sent had been for the common soldiers, this would be the first consignment since the war specifically for the Swan-knights. But even expecting them, the sight took his breath away – two Lords of Rohan, their braids swinging as they rode, spear tips fired by the westering sun. Matched grey horses, roped in pairs, outriders keeping them in line. All travelling as one, at a very fast trot.

A hand went up when the leading Rider saw them, and gradually the column slowed to a walk. It was Haleth. Amroth recognised him, and the other man, Harken, having met them both in Edoras. Seeing they were slowing, he eased Aero out into the road. Haleth came to a halt in front of him, nodding a respectful greeting, before the bearded lips broke into a grin.

“Couldn’t wait to see what Éomer King has sent you, or are they sending princes out on escort duty now?”

Amroth laughed, running his eyes over the line of magnificent animals. “A bit of both, but I felt like a few days away from the stone. We can camp here, or there’s a place a few leagues down the road.”

Haleth had a quick word with Harken, who nodded. “We’ve done well today, we will stop here. It will give you a chance to have a look at them.”

---

When Amroth woke the next morning only a faint hint of light penetrated the canvas. He lay for a moment aware that he’d only had a short sleep – what with sitting up late around the fire and then restless hours before he’d eventually dropped off. But although his head felt thick, he was unable to lie still any longer and cursing his failings he pulled on a tunic and went outside.

A guard looked up, surprise on his face. The horses were still dozing, only one pulling at the dew-laden grass. Amroth waved his hand and trudged through the wet towards the road. He didn’t feel like even talking, all night unease had been growing on him, a feeling that something was wrong up there. Probably his imagination, but anyway, he crossed over to the other side of the road and stared up the vale. Not that he could see much: wisps of mist curled up the sides like smoke from a thousand fires.  But she would send word, wouldn’t she, if she had problems. He’d told her to. Made her promise to write if she needed help. Surely that cousin would send a message if she asked, he had dealings with merchants in the city.

“Amroth!”

Haleth was holding up a tea kettle and beckoning. With a last look up to the Vale, he crossed back over the road. For the time being his duty was at home. No decisions to make, they had been made for him.

Morthond Vale May FA1

Devoran eased her father back down against the pillows and took a damp cloth to wipe his face. He snatched at a breath, the thick humours invading his body gurgling their displeasure at the effort.  The coughing fit over for a moment, his chest still rasped, but she saw he had fallen into an uneasy sleep. The last dose of tincture must have worked – for a while.

She needed to stretch. She needed to sleep. But not yet! Ashild wouldn’t be ready to relieve her. Although it must be near dawn, and the woman from the village who came to help would be getting up. Devoran put down the cloth and the bowl and picked up her woollen shawl. Wrapping it tightly around her shoulders she went to the window and twitched the heavy curtain aside quietly. A grey landscape. The floor of the vale was dark and hidden. Swirls of mist curled up the valley sides like wisps from many campfires. Somewhere down there people would be waking to start their day, whilst she had been up all night.  She shivered in spite of the shawl: spring came late to the high valleys, and the stone house could be cold. Hurriedly she let the curtain go, keeping the dawn at bay for a while. She’d forgotten the fire during that last bout of coughing.

Only a few logs left in the basket, but they’d keep a flame until Bregil brought some more when he got up. Devoran picked up a chump of wood, but it remained hovering over the glowing embers as a vision of Amroth rocked her. She saw him clearly, holding out his hand to her, a soft smile on his face. But as she reached towards him he faded, getting fainter and fainter until he disappeared.

“No…no don’t go,” she whispered. But too late! She’d been too tired to visit the woodpile these last weeks, and now he had gone.

To be continued.

Devoran- G              Lord Duinhir’s Daughter.

Ashild - G                   Housekeeper to Lord Duinhir.

Bregil-  G                    General Servant, Ashild’s husband.

Alhael- G                  Devoran’s cousin. Son of Duinhir’s elder sister.

Gidon – G               Amroth’s captain

Haleth –                 Rider of the Golden Hall

Harken – R             Rider of the Golden Hall

Chapter 6

Dol Amroth June FA01

Amroth ducked under the low doorway and blinked, his eyes adjusting to the gloom after the bright light outside. He started to methodically search the crowd but could distinguish no one familiar amongst the press of bodies. Every crew that visited Dol Amroth used the tavern and he by no way knew them all.

“Amroth! Over here!”

Swinging around, he caught the glint of a raised tankard and began the risky task of pushing through the drinkers. Some were sitting on the upturned barrels that served as seats, others leant against the thick trunks that supported the roof – a mix of seasoned sailors with leathery skin and braided hair, and fresh-faced boys trying to ape their elders, in dress and drinking capacity. Generally they were good-natured, but Amroth knew from experience that a glut of ale could make them tetchy and quarrelsome. However, he managed to reach the corner with no more than a few ripe curses battering him. Oríon shoved a mug in his hand before he had even sat down. 

With a grateful sigh Amroth took a deep refreshing swig. It had been a long hot day and no other place had ale as good as The Crooked Capstan, well worth the walk down to the port and the risk of a bar-room brawl. Wiping the foam from his lips with the back of his hand, he realised Oríon was not alone. Amroth grinned at his brother. “I wondered where you had disappeared to, the table will be empty tonight.”

“The ale won over supper.” Erchi raised his mug. “And I am sure the cook will find us something later. Anyway, we deserve this after the trials of the last week.”

Trials? Amroth didn’t agree with that, for him matching the horses to the knights had been enjoyable. Without answering he took another swig, giving Erchi the chance to continue.

“What are you going to do with yourself now?”

Seeing the speculative look on his brother’s face, Amroth tried to hide the turmoil within. Erchi no doubt guessed the horses had kept his mind from other matters.  But now Haleth and Harken had returned to Rohan, life would go quiet again, and his indecision would surface. Should he ride back up to the Vale to see Devoran? Disquiet had grown on him since he had come back with the horses.   And promising to return in a year did not mean he couldn’t go back on a visit beforehand. But if he did, would he ever have the strength to leave again? And what implications would that have on his duties here.

“Amroth! More ale!” Oríon picked up the jug. By the look of his red cheeks, and his unusually dishevelled appearance, he must have already had more than a few.  Pushing thoughts of Devoran away knowing he would not be good company otherwise, Amroth downed what was left in his mug and held it out for a refill. Not quite a full measure, and immediately Erchi waved his arm towards the bar, bellowing.

“More Ale! There are thirsty men over here!”

But Moreth, the landlord’s daughter, was already threading her way through the noisy throng. Guffaws of laughter erupted as a brave sailor slid an arm around her waist. Raising the jug out of the way, her elbow connected with his ribs, tipping him off the barrel and sending him sprawling into a tangle of feet. He’d have more than sore ribs by the time he got up. Moreth ignored the uproar and slipped sideways to end up at their table.

“She’s saving herself for me!” Erchi reached out his hand to grab her as she set the jug down.

“Touch me and you’ll get the same treatment, lord. And don’t you forget it!” With a flick of her hips she avoided his grasp, her bright dress disappearing back amongst the crowd before Erchi could answer. More laughter followed her progress as those who were strangers to the tavern thought to nab a cuddle or a kiss. Tall and strong, Moreth stood no nonsense, and it was a brave or a foolish man who tried to lay their hands on her.

“One barmaid who won’t have you,” Amroth ragged his brother.

Erchi winked at him. “It’s just for show. She’ll come around.”

“I doubt it,” Oríon smirked, refilling the mugs. “She’s sweet on the mate of The Flying Dolphin.  I see her waving him off when I pass the Master my letters to Luineth. They go to Pelargir on a regular run.”

“Are you still writing to that girl!” Erchi gasped in astonishment, shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s the matter with the pair of you. Amroth’s barely with us, his head is up a mountain most of the time. And you’re writing love letters. It beggars belief.”

Amroth said nothing, he’d heard it many times these past weeks, but Oríon glared at Erchi over the foamy top of his ale. “We don’t all just want a roll in the hay.”

Unabashed, Erchi grinned at both of them. “Well, there’s ample hay around now Amroth’s loaded us up with all those horses. And plenty of willing girls if you know where to look.” He took a mighty swig of ale and stretched out his legs in contentment.

Amroth started chuckling, Erchi saw life very simply and you couldn’t be morose with him around. Oríon joined in, before returning to his ale, drinking in thoughtful silence for a moment.  But then a smile crossed his face and he slapped Amroth on the arm.

“It’s not only you with your head up a mountain. Devoran made an impression on young Alphros as well.”

“Oh?” Amroth paused, the mug halfway to his mouth. He didn’t really want to discuss her in front of his scornful brother. But Oríon was unlikely to shut up.

 “He was in the library this morning, struggling with his numbers.”

“Poor lad!” Erchi butted in. “Making him have lessons on such a fine day.”

Oríon ignored him. “I gave him some help, and he showed me a drawing he had done. The mountains were in the background, I recognised those.” He laughed. “But he had to explain what the things were that looked like blobs with four sticks poking out. I don’t think he’ll make an artist.”

Amroth had gone stiff, his senses on alert. “And what were they?”

“Lions and bears. Evidently Devoran told him they were dangerous in the winter.”

Slowly, Amroth put his mug down on the table. His stomach churned. “She is so vulnerable anyway, but in the winter the threat is worse.”

“And not only lions and bears, I imagine.” Erchi’s face turned thoughtful. “Do they have any kind of stockade up there, Amroth?”

Amroth stared at him, apprehension growing “Yes, although she tends to leave the gates open. Why are you asking?”

“Elphir said there are reports from Lamedon of a group of brigands on the prowl in the mountains. It has just struck me that it’s possible they might move on into the Vale. Not such rich pickings, but easier, maybe.”

“Brigands!” Amroth echoed. In spite of the sultry heat his insides turned to ice as a wave of fear washed over him. Why had he ever heeded her pragmatism and come away. “I’m going up there,” he announced quietly. “She needs help, and there is no way I am going to let her live through another winter with just two old servants and her father the way he is. She has no protection other than her dog.”  But he knew he couldn’t dwell there for any length of time without talk. “I’ll have to take someone with me to uphold convention, a companion for her, willing to stay for a time.  But …”

“But what, Amroth?” Oríon interrupted. “If you are determined to go back up there, why don’t you marry her? They get married up in the Vale, don’t they?”

“You’d better, Amroth.” Erchi started a deep chuckle. “I can’t see a trio of companions being of use if you are incarcerated up a bleak mountain with that lovely girl through the long winter months.”

Amroth had stopped listening. Marry her! Why not? What a fool he’d been! He could go up to the Vale, marry her, stay a month or two before coming back for a few weeks and then return for the winter. If she was his wife he could make sure she had all she needed, and leave some men for protection. He would have to persuade his father, but something could be sorted out.  He didn’t have to personally command his Company all the time, as long as he was around for part of the year. There was no threat of war at the moment. Yes, his mind was made up.

“You are right, Oríon. The best thing would be for me to marry her. Now I have finished with the horses, there is nothing to stop me. It takes me less than three days to get to the Blackroot. I can share my time between there and here until she’s able to live in Dol Amroth.”

“Well, little brother.” Erchi put his hand up for another jug, his face a mask of wry amusement. “We must drink to your nuptials. I am looking forward to the trip.”

“You’re coming?”

“You don’t think I am letting you get married without me there, do you? And I will speak up to our father.”

That warmed him. Erchi might bluster and tease, but he had a good heart. And they had got on better together since he had come back from Rohan. Which Amroth was glad about. “I’ll talk to Father in the morning.”

Halfway down the next jug, with plans whirling around his head, Amroth jumped as Oríon suddenly slammed his tankard down on the table and leaped to his feet. He swayed for a moment and then fell forward, hands landing on the table and knocking over his tankard. Luckily most of the ale had been drunk.

“Let me tell you,” he proclaimed loud enough for all those around them to hear, “that letters do not warm a man’s bed.”

“Only if you set fire to them,” a rough voice came from the next table, where a group of sailors were playing dice.

“Exactly right!”  Wobbling slightly, but managing to stand up straight he pointed to the man, beaming agreement. “So I am going to do something about it!” By the time the laughter had stopped Oríon had somehow scrambled on top of his seat, holding precariously to a timber. “I’m taking a boat to Pelargir, right now!” he shouted over the hubbub. “I need a crew to pull strong and fast. Who’s with me?”

“I’ll be happy to take your coin, young lord,” the same voice came again. “But if you leave now with the tide on the ebb we’ll as like end up in Langstrand.”

Good-natured laughter erupted, but the reason was lost on Oríon. He swayed, his eyes rolling, it looked as though the ale had finished him. Amroth stood up to catch him, but too late. The barrel tipped, and he toppled backward, right on top of Erchi.

Oomph! “Damn it!” They both went over in a heap, knocking into the table next to them and sending the dice flying.

“Oy! I was winning,” an indignant voice shouted. Amroth shot around, not to pick up his brother but to offer apologies to the sailors and buy them a jug before mayhem ensued. Luckily they went for the ale and not him. Swearing fluently, the wind knocked out of him, Erchi heaved Orion up and propped him on the seat with his back against the pillar. But he slumped forward, eyes closed and muttering incoherencies.

Erchi put out an arm to hold him up. “We’ll have to carry him or find a cart. The sun must have got the pair of you!”

Surprisingly though, as he must have had a massive headache, Oríon left for Pelargir first thing the next morning, as a passenger on The Flying Dolphin. Presumably to deliverer the next letter in person. Later, as Amroth knocked on the door to his father’s study in some trepidation, he hoped both he and his friend would get the response they wanted.

Imrahil listened to Amroth’s request in silence; he had been expecting something, the only surprise being Erchi coming to support his brother. As Amroth came to an end, his mind busied itself with the ramifications of his youngest son spending a greater part of the year away from Dol Amroth. He had given thought to it when Amroth had come back at first, but decided that his fun-loving son would never be happy incarcerated at the top of a mountain, even with a pretty girl. But it was becoming obvious that he would never be happy living apart from her. And from the steely glint in Amroth’s eyes it appeared as if he was going to have to agree to the scheme. He remembered that look from Elphir. A glance across to Calaerdis, whose offer to leave had been waved away by Amroth, gave him no help. Her fine features were expressionless.

“I agree she should not be up there without protection, Amroth. But are you sure that Devoran would be happy with you going backwards and forwards? And what about her father? What would he think about you marrying her?”

“I spoke to him as much as I was able. He definitely understood me and gave me his blessing. But if Devoran decides not to marry me, I will stay for a while anyway and organise some security for her.  She shouldn’t be alone.” His chin went up, unwavering.

Imrahil nodded, glad to see the determination and concern. “I am not against you marrying her, Amroth. I told you that at the start. But a hole in the corner affair is not what I had in mind for you. For any of my children.”

“But there is no other way,” Amroth retorted. “If she came here it would turn into a big wedding, and I doubt she’d leave her father long enough for that.”

No,” Imrahil conceded, his thoughts in disorder. But suddenly they sorted themselves out. “Rohan. You could take her to Edoras and Éomer could marry you. With Erchi and Lothíriel there, that at least would seem less furtive than a hasty marriage in a mountain village.”

Light leapt to Amroth’s eyes. “I would much prefer that. If I can persuade her, that is.”

“Persuade her!” Erchi scoffed from the window seat. “Throw her over your saddle and ignore any protestations.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “But you’ll probably go down on your knees and beg.”

Imrahil laughed. “I admit to being with you there, Erchirion. I don’t like to think of one of my sons on their knees to anyone.”

“A woman does like to be asked,” Calaerdis’s soft voice broke in, “but I would definitely avoid the knees, Amroth.  Very off-putting to have a man grovelling at one’s feet.”

They all laughed. Imrahil caught her eye. Maddening woman! Good job he hadn’t been temped to try that.  Calaerdis was the Lady of Dol Amroth in all but name, one would think she would be keen to regularise her position. But perhaps her attraction was that she behaved a little unconventionally. She must have guessed his thoughts because her lips twitched and she drew her gaze away to look at Amroth. He smiled at her.

“I have asked her once, and had circumstances been different she would have agreed. I know it is what she wants.”

“She might feel happier going to Edoras if she could leave her father with someone other than two old servants.” Calaerdis continued. “Why don’t you consider arranging some help?”

“Yes, a good idea,” Amroth agreed. “Gidon got on well with Duinhir; I could leave him with a couple of men. That would relieve her servants of the heavy jobs.”

Imrahil had come to a few decisions. “That would do for your trip to Rohan, Amroth, but two old servants won’t be enough if you are going to be living there for more than a short time. We need to sort her out a housekeeper. Perhaps one of our wounded soldiers could go up there with his wife…”

“And if Duinhir got used to them, maybe Devoran would come down here for a few weeks every now and again. That’s an excellent idea, Father.”

“Yes. But Amroth, you must go up there and put this to her. You cannot load servants and housekeepers on her without her agreeing.”

“No, of course not. But it will be easier to sort out everything else once we are married. And I shall feel happier knowing she is going to be cared for, even if I am not always there. I can recruit any extra help needed from the village.”

Imrahil sighed. Amroth’s face looked brighter than it had for weeks. He seemed confident the girl would go with him. Not what he had planned for his youngest son, but he knew when to bow to fate. “I hope for your sake it works out as you wish.”

Calaerdis broke in again.  “May I suggest you take a woman with you, Amroth. You cannot drag Lady Devoran though that mountain without a woman to attend to her. She will need a maid.”

Amroth’s brow furrowed. “It would have to be Ana, no other could cope with the riding. But she is newly married.”

“Then we must take her husband as well.” Erchi rubbed his hands gleefully. “I am looking forward to this. Amroth chasing a woman. Who’d have thought it?”

---

Morthond Vale July FA1

The villagers trudged up the track as one mass: best clothes; heads bowed; quiet and subdued. None of the laughing and chatter that was usual when they got together. Even the children walked quietly – hanging onto their mothers’ skirts, or keeping pace with their fathers, trying to look grown up.

With her grief numbed by exhaustion after the weeks of relentless nursing, Devoran felt sorry for them. Not only were they burying a much loved and respected lord, their new master was mistrusted at best and at the worst, despised. But she could do nothing to help them, and only hoped that when Alhael finally got his hands on his inheritance he would realise it would be in his best interest to gain their loyalty. He would be a fool if he didn’t appreciate that he would get more that way. As for herself – she would give thought to that after her father had been put in the ground.

Thathar and Bregil had dug the grave in the small plot behind the walled garden, next to her mother. They had insisted, Bregil puffing from his age, Thathar from his war wounds. But she hadn’t had the heart to stop them. She gripped her skirts tightly when the last piece of turf covered it over, willing herself not to cry. Refusing to break down in front of the villagers, or Alhael. Instead she held her head high and thanked everyone for coming, and brought out the last of the ham from Amroth’s boar with some goat cheese and bread and blackberry wine. However little she had, her father would have wanted that.

Only when they had all gone did she walk with Drummer to their boulder, to stand looking down the valley with the tears streaming down her face. She cried for her brothers, handsome and brave, who had left her with a smile and a promise to return. For her father, once so strong and caring, but whom despair had dried to a wasted husk. And her mother – she wanted to forgive her mother, but found it so hard. Her mother should never have left them. Their family had been torn apart, and the grief that should have bonded the survivors together, had caused her mother to destroy it utterly.  Head in her hands, Devoran wept desperately for her lost life until finally no more tears would flow. Gulping to regain her composure, she stood facing the wind, letting it dry her face, determined not to wallow in misery any longer. There had been enough of that, now was the time to make plans for herself.

“What are we going to do, Drummer? My cousin will come back soon and I am not sure I can live with him. Or Corves. I don’t want to see them in my house. What shall I do?” Heavy steps took her back to the house past the wood-pile; she had been too busy and too tired to come here for weeks. Devoran screwed up her eyes and blinked – but nothing.

“He’s gone, Drummer. I didn’t come and he’s gone. It’s just you and me now.” She turned away, a great emptiness overwhelming her. Drummer whined and rubbed against her legs. “You miss him, don’t you, Drummer?”  She stopped, thinking hard. Amroth had been so sincere. But words had blurred and memories faded during the weeks of unceasing toil. “Perhaps I ought to write to him, Drummer. He told me to if I was in trouble.” Her cousin would never take a letter, but there must be a way. “I could ask one of the villagers to take it to the market, Drummer. I am sure a merchant would pass it to a patrol. It would get to Dol Amroth eventually. But what shall I say?”

Devoran pondered the next day on what to write; she could hardly ask to come to the Palace. The best thing to do would be to tell Amroth what had happened and let him decide if he wanted to do anything about it. Better than pushing herself forward, and she could stand her cousin for the time it took a letter to reach Amroth and a reply to come back. But just as she started to write, she heard Drummer barking. Now who was coming? Surely not Alhael. He would not be so unfeeling as to come back so soon. But by the time she got to the outer door the barking had changed to a furious growling. She heaved it open quickly.

Oh No! Drummer was attacking a pair of polished boots, Alhael’s piebald sidling around in panic.  Getting the mare under control, Alhael raised his whip.

“No, Drummer! Down!” She yelled, rushing forward to grab the angry dog. “Don’t hit him, Alhael! I’ve got him,” she pleaded, seizing hold of Drummer’s scruff.

“Get him out of my sight, Devoran.” Alhael fumed.

“I wasn’t expecting you, or I would have locked him up. He’s only protecting me.”

“What’s going on, my lady? I heard Drummer…Oh…” Bregil stopped with a quick nod to Alhael.

“Take him to the stables, will you, Bregil, until Lord Alhael has gone.” Devoran passed over a still growling Drummer. “Make sure he can’t get out, and come back for the horse.”

“Don’t bother,” Alhael said. “I am not staying. I just came for a quick word.”

“Surely you will come in, Cousin, and take some wine.” Even he couldn’t be that rude as to tell her his plans in the courtyard!

“Oh, very well. But I will tie my horse outside.”

She took him through to the hall. No chair in the window now, she had moved that, not wanting to walk in and think her father still sitting there. Alhael put down his whip and gloves and took a goblet from her, sniffing it before he put it to his lips. Blackberry again, but what did he expect. It had been a long time since a carrier had brought a barrel of best red from the slopes of Lamedon.

He looked around the hall, gloating in the fading splendour of his inheritance, she imagined.  But he didn’t speak until he had taken another sip, then his voice was flat and expressionless. “I shall be moving in very soon, there is no point in wasting time. I have my own servants so will not need Ashild and Bregil. They are too old to be much use.”

Devoran bit her tongue; they had no intention of staying anyway. “Oh, do not worry about them, Cousin. It is nice of you to be concerned, but they will be fine. They are moving in with their daughter.” He looked at her suspiciously, but she smiled sweetly. Did he really think she would not have ensured their future?

“You, Devoran, will have to move out of your room. My daughter will want it. Choose one at the back of the house; you will not need it for long.”

“Not need it for long?” She hoped she wouldn’t, but what did he mean.

“No, I will be making arrangements for you to be married. Fairly soon I should think.”

Devoran glared at him. “You will be making arrangements! I don’t think so, Cousin.”

He bristled, drawing himself up and looking down his nose, fleshy cheeks wobbling. “You forget who has control here. What do you think is going to happen to you otherwise?”

“Prince Amrothos…”

“Prince Amrothos!” His voice rose in a sneer. “Are you still living under that delusion?”

“I was writing to him as you arrived. Father told me the Prince spoke to him.”

“Your father, Devoran, didn’t know what day it was. Are you so naïve as to believe anything that womanising prince said? Men, Devoran, men like him will say anything to get what they want.”

Devoran clenched her fists, wanting to hit him. “He’s not like that!”

Alhael took a step forward and lifted her chin with his finger. “Let’s just assume for a moment that the Prince meant what he said, Devoran. You are a pretty young woman; I agree he could have got carried away.”

Devoran pulled from his grasp, how dare he even touch her!

With a twist of his lips he dropped his voice, sounding as if he were speaking to an ignorant child. “But what do you think that proud father of his would have said to his son wanting to marry a portionless girl from a mountain vale? Princes marry for status and land, Devoran, not for lust, or even love. Be assured that Prince Imrahil will have already sorted out a suitable wife for your handsome lover, and the sooner you realise that, the easier you will accept your fate.”

“My fate?” she whispered, not being able to say anything else. Alhael’s words had shocked her. What if they were true? Amroth had never mentioned his father’s wishes. Would Prince Imrahil have agreed with Amroth’s desires? Her stomach turned to lead when she recognised that it was quite likely the Lord of Dol Amroth had plans of his own for his son’s marriage.

Alhael must have realised he had got through, because he patted her shoulder, a smirk on his face. “Luckily I have friends who will relish an attractive young wife, and they will not worry too much if you are a little…. used, shall we say?” He looked her up and down with a malicious gleam. “It is lucky he left nothing behind.”

Her whole body trembled. Too upset to deny his spiteful accusations, she managed to put some defiance into her voice. “I do not wish to be married to one of your friends.”

“My dear, you have no choice. You are underage and have no way of supporting yourself. I have had this in mind for some time, it is the only way you can be of any use to me.”

“I would have thought I would be more use married to a prince,” she retorted, anger returning.

“No use at all! Even if you did manage to wheedle your way in that haughty family is not likely to have anything to do with the likes of me!” He leant closer and Devoran shivered with apprehension, seeing the avarice glittering in his eyes.  “But you, my dear, can buy me a lot of credit with the right person. And that’s what you will do.”

She instinctively recoiled, which provoked an ironic laugh. “Nothing to say to that, have you?”

Devoran shook her head, unable to find any words. And with a nod Alhael drained his goblet and picked up his gloves. “Good, that is settled. I will move in next week. Make sure everything is ready.” Putting down his goblet he snatched his whip from the table and strode towards the door. But he stopped halfway, looking back at her, scowling. “Oh yes, I nearly forgot. The first thing I will do is string up that flea-bitten cur by his mangy neck.”

Hang Drummer! She’d run her father’s sword through him first! Devoran stared at the door after he had gone, not quite believing he had said those things. Marry to further his interests? Never! She had always thought him a mean, unpleasant man, but she had never expected him to be so vile.

Anger made her pace the room. Force her into marriage! Surely he couldn’t do that! But with his servants doing his bidding, who would stop him? And Drummer!  He could order his men to kill Drummer! She would not risk that. Well, one thing was certain: when Alhael came back, she would not be here.

But where should she go? Not Dol Amroth until she was sure of her reception. Amongst the fury and the hurt Alhael had wormed a seed of doubt. Had Amroth’s love been an unattainable dream? Now she didn’t know what to do.

The rest of the day the letter remained unfinished as she mostly stared out of the window trying to sort her thoughts. Devoran went to bed full of uncertainty, awake until the early hours and then sleeping restlessly, disturbed by dreams of toads and frogs, one of which she was expected to marry. But only the right one would turn into a prince. She woke bleary eyed just as the first flush of dawn filtered into her window. But thankfully her mind was clear. Sometime in the night the King’s words had invaded her dreams – ever in need – a home for her.

She would not give up her freedom to Alhael, risk Drummer, or put Amroth in an embarrassing position with his father. She would go to Minas Tirith and seek the King’s protection. A letter could be sent to Dol Amroth easily from the Court. Amroth could choose with no pressure: either to come for her or to write back some platitude, an excuse why he couldn’t. If he didn’t want her anymore, then she wouldn’t give in to despair. She was young and healthy and had a new life before her.

Now she had to persuade Ashild and Bregil to leave, so she could fly herself, for she did not trust Alhael to wait a week. The swine must have been making plans all the time her father was ill. Hovering over his legacy like an ugly vulture.

To be continued.

A/N - Sorry about the Bold writing at the end - I have tried and tried to get rid of it.

Moreth -  daughter of the landlord of The Crooked Capstan.

Oríon -                      Childhood friend of Amroth’s.

Calaerdis -              Imrahil’s mistress

Gidon -                 Captain in Amroth’s Company

Devoran- G              Lord Duinhir’s Daughter.

Thathar- G           A Bowman from the Morthond Vale. Wounded badly on the Pelennor.              

Ashild - G                   Housekeeper to Lord Duinhir.

Bregil-  G                    General Servant, Ashild’s husband.

Alhael- G                  Devoran’s cousin. Son of Duinhir’s elder sister.

Corves- G               Alhael’s wife.

Chapter 7

The Ered Nimrais June FA 01                                            

As soon as she had waved goodbye to Ashild and Bregil, Devoran hurried around to the stables. Fearful that Alhael might come early, she was desperate to get away.  Her mind had been busy with plans for the last few days, although she had been unable to do anything that would arouse her servants’ suspicions. Having known her since her birth, they would never have let her set off on such a journey alone. But what choice did she have?

The first thing was to harness up Plugh, their carthorse. A nuisance, as she would have to take the heavy tack off again – it was too late to leave today – but she wanted everything packed up so she could set off at first light. Plugh nuzzled into her. His coat might be white with age, but his eyes were still bright and clear. Devoran fixed him between the poles with no trouble; the last two years had taught her many unexpected skills. Glad of something to do, even though it was just moving the cart around to the haystore at the moment, Plugh trotted off at her command. She wanted to take as much hay as the cart would hold, as grass would be scarce until she reached the lowlands, and anyway, if she covered it with a canvas sheet, she and Drummer could sleep warm and cosy. Devoran knew she couldn’t risk the inns, even disguised as a boy, which was how she intended to travel, because often the customers had to share rooms.

She grabbed the pitchfork and dug it in. Dry and dusty, the hay had lost the sweet smell of summer, but was still good. Bregil had kept it well. She stuffed some in bags, the rest she loaded loose.

“There will be plenty of water, Drummer there are lots of streams coming down the mountains.” Her main concern had been how to get out of the Vale without being spotted, but she had studied her father’s map, knowing there was an old track that went up behind the house. It crossed the river higher up and came out at Erech, joining the main way from Rohan to Dol Amroth. The track had been made long ago, cut into the mountainside. Her father had marched his men to war that way, although she had never been very far along it. It was the way to take as long as she could get the cart over the ancient river crossing.  A risk, but one she was ready to take to avoid being seen. She didn’t trust her cousin not to stop her by force.

At Erech there was another turning and the main way went down to Linhir, the map also showed another road, running all along the foothills of the Ered Nimrais, through Lamedon, Lebennin and then Lossarnach.  That should be a good road, too. But it would be slow going until she reached Erech, she thought, and she might have to lead Plugh to avoid the possibility of losing a wheel to a stone. Luckily the weather had been fine for weeks, which would help.

Piling up the hay made her hot and sticky, and the dust got up her nose, causing her to sneeze repeatedly. Little wisps stuck to her bare arms and her dress started to resemble Drummer’s coat before Amroth had cut it. Thinking of him, Devoran let the fork stop in midair, but resolutely dug it in again, shaking away the temptation to saddle Col and ride headlong for Dol Amroth. She had fought down that urge over the last few days and refused to let it surface again. Best to stick to her plan and let Amroth choose what he wished to do.

“Come on, Drummer, we must load up the rest of our things now.” Devoran dragged out the stiff canvas and struggled to pull it over the cart; she could tuck the food under the covering, out of the sun.  Most of her clothes could go in bags behind the seat.

With the hay piled and covered, she took the cart around to the side door to load up her things. It took numerous journeys – in and out of the house with armfuls of stuff and Drummer stalked her every step. She took time to stop and pet him.

“It’s all right, Drummer, I won’t be going without you. But it is taking longer than I thought. I do not know what is mine and what is Alhael’s, or if anything is mine at all. My mother’s dresses, they must be mine. I shall need them when we get to court, they only require a little alteration and they are so pretty.” She’d adjusted a couple to wear at the wedding, but would need more at court. They would need rolling and packing in a bag.

 “Those candlesticks my mother brought and her books, I will take those as well.” Her mother’s lyre, and her own, room had to be found for them.

“My father’s sword and his big tall bow. He’s not having those. Or Col, I don’t care if he does not belong to me. Alhael is not having Col. He didn’t earn him in the battle.” Somehow Col was a visible reminder of her brothers’ and her father’s bravery, and she didn’t want to part with him. Although she knew she would probably have to sell the horse once she reached Minas Tirith, she would need the coin.  But she would make sure he went to someone nice. “And I suppose the cart is his, and Plugh, but I will just have to borrow them.”

“My own bow and my drawings. Can you remember the last time I drew the mountain birds and flowers? I will take my mother’s also. But I am going to have to load some of it onto Col. I hope he won’t mind. He’s a warhorse, Drummer, not a packhorse.” She would have to do that in the morning.

“It is a long journey, Drummer. We are going to the White City, just like King Elessar said. I know you will not like it much, but if Amroth does not come for us, we will not stay. I will ask the King a boon. It sounds very nice, Drummer, in Ithilien. The King said in his speech at the wedding that people are settling there. It would suit you and me, Drummer, better than the City.”

She kept up the endless chatter to Drummer to stop herself from faltering. Easy to say she would leave her home and travel to Minas Tirith, but the map had shown her how far it was. Her father had walked there, she reminded herself, so she could get there in a cart. And thank goodness one of Amroth’s soldiers had overhauled the cart; hopefully it would get to the City in one piece.

With everything ready for an early start, Devoran fell into bed exhausted.

She had slept with the curtains drawn back, so the first glow of the rosy dawn had her up. Hose, a shirt, and a loose tunic already laid out, Devoran dressed quickly, binding her breasts with a strip of linen. But next was the decision she had been dreading, and putting off  – what did she do about her hair?  She ran her hands through it. So thick and soft and wavy it did not look like it belonged to a boy. Perhaps if she tied it back? Drummer watched her from the end of the bed; he obviously thought it too early to be up and about. “I cannot cut it off, Drummer. I will be laughed at if I turn up at court with no hair.”  And if Amroth came for her he would be so disappointed, he liked her hair. No, that settled it – she would have to wear a hood that covered head and neck, even though it would be hot if the weather kept up. But at least it would keep the flies from biting.  A straw hat could go on top to shade her face from the sun. Having made her decision, she finished dressing and hurried outside to get the horses ready. Best to get out of sight as quickly as possible and then stop to eat something.

The road rose steeply behind the house, and then levelled out along the side of the mountain, disappearing around its shoulder. Drummer whined a protest every few moments, very indignant at her treatment of him.

“I am sorry that you have to be tied to the seat, Drummer. I do not wish to lose you. If you went chasing something you might get lost and never come back and then I would be all alone. Col is tied on behind, he’s not making a fuss.”

Plugh plodded along. She didn’t like to push him, and anyway the road was stony and it was all too easy to damage a wheel. If that happened she had no idea what she would do. But in spite of the slow pace, she very soon reached the bend and pulled Plugh to a halt, swivelling around in her seat –

“You must look, Drummer, it is the last we will ever see of it. We are not coming back.” Tears ran down her cheeks when she picked out the place where her mother and father were buried. All her family under the earth, and she didn’t even know where they had buried her brothers. Her father had never said. “But they would have wanted me to be brave, Drummer. They wouldn’t have wanted me to stay and do Alhael’s bidding.” He wanted to sell her to some rich old man! Her brothers would have killed him for even thinking of it.  A memory of Amroth’s words rocked her. “He said they would have been friends, Drummer. I am sure they would have liked me to marry him.” She let her eyes linger on the walled garden, the stone outlined against the pasture. “It is where we sat and talked. What do you think he is doing now, Drummer? It is hot. Do you think that he is swimming in the sea?”  How she would have liked to be paddling in the cool water right now. Determinedly banishing mawkish thoughts, Devoran flicked the reins to get Plugh moving again. She had put herself in the hands of fate and now had to see what would happen.

The road became stonier and she was forced to walk leading the horse – hot and tired as noon approached. She stopped for a meal where a fast stream gushed down the mountainside, taking off her hood and splashing her face with water.  The horses had a good drink, and so did Drummer, wading in a small pool, but she kept hold of his rope. The thought of being completely alone in the mountains terrified her.

 “There, you are nice and cool now, Drummer. And we had better go, it is a very long way.”

They travelled for another hour or so and then her heart went to her mouth, for the road ahead was blocked by a rock fall.

“You stay here, Drummer. I will look.”

She walked up to the fallen stones; most were quite small, but there was one big one that she knew without a doubt would be too heavy for her. The fall did not quite cover the entire road and then there was a stony verge before a steep drop to the valley below. Now what did she do? She thought for a moment before taking a rope to measure the width of the cart, then the distance between the large rock and the edge of the cliff.

“There is just a little to spare, Drummer, if I can manage to move all the small stones. It is a good job that I brought my leather gloves, as I am sure that the ladies at court have very soft hands.”

The sun had sunk behind the peaks by the time she had finished and the air had cooled with a breeze getting up. It dried the sweat and made her shiver. Already tired she would have liked to eat and sleep, but she wanted to get further away from the house. They were nowhere near the river yet.  With the road cleared, she went back to the cart and a bored Drummer.

“Now, Drummer, I am going to take Col first and then you. There is a stumpy tree; I will tie you to that. You wait here, Drummer, and please do not bark.”

Devoran led Col past the fall and tied him to the tree on the other side. He made no fuss whatsoever, wisps of hay protruding from his mouth. She had given the horses a feedbag each to keep them occupied. With Col safe she took Drummer, tied him up and went back for the cart. Plugh moved a few paces and then stopped. Nothing she did would budge him. He wanted his stable.

“Well,” she said to him, “you will have to come someway, there is no going back and we cannot stay up here all night.” Devoran thought hard, hoping she had not cleared all those rocks for nothing. Drummer whined, not liking being tied up away from her.  “Now what would my Prince do, Drummer? He is very good with horses. He shouts at dogs, but not at horses I am sure.”

Instead of trying to pull, Devoran went around the side of the old horse and put herself between him and the drop. Whispering softly in his ear, she told him what a brave horse he was and how she needed him, and with a shudder that rattled his old bones, slowly he walked forward.

“It is going to get dark soon, Drummer, we will have to find somewhere to stop. There is something we have to decide, you and me. Do we light a fire? I have brought wood, there was plenty left in the pile, but should I light it? A fire could attract brigands, but it protects against wolves. The mountain lions and the bears, I know they sleep at night. Let me think, we have not heard wolves for a long time and I have my bow. You and I, Drummer, I think we would be better against wolves than brigands.” Drummer cocked his head to one side listening intently to all this, making no other response. Devoran laughed at herself discussing her predicament with a dog, but she had to have someone to talk to or she would go mad. She nodded. “You are right; we will not light the fire.”

No sign of wolves or anything much else except a few birds winging back to their roosts, a flight of black arrows against the darkening sky. Munching on some cherries – she had brought a big bag – Devoran snuggled into her warm cloak.  The rocky cliffs fell away in great steps until they hit the floor of the Vale way below. But all the landmarks had disappeared, merging into a formless blend of greys. In the morning she would be able to see the shapes of the villages and perhaps the sheep grazing the high pastures, but now she was alone in a dark empty land, with only a new moon and the stars to give her light. An unsettling feeling that even Drummer’s comforting presence could not ease.

Her supper finished, they curled up amongst the hay and Devoran was so tired even fright could not keep her from sleeping. She knew nothing until she was woken by the dawn. Jumping up quickly, her heart pounding, she looked around in panic, but the horses were still there, quietly munching.

The track became easier as it gradually descended, skirting the outthrust of the mountain, enabling her to make good progress. By early afternoon she was looking down on the Morthond River again. Devoran shaded her eyes, gazing across to the ridge on the other side of the valley, sure she could see the line of the road.

“We will go down and camp by the river tonight, Drummer, and at first light make for the road. I shall be glad to be on it, for it will be easier to travel.”

The river crossing was still good, great slabs of granite laid on stone piers in ages past. Not that high above the water, but narrow. Meant more for men than carts. Or perhaps the carts were smaller years ago. Could she get hers across the river another way? Devoran wandered along the bank. The water ran fast, but the fine weather meant it was low, in fact quite shallow. However the bed was rough and stony. She got out her rope again and went back to the bridge to measure – just enough room for the wheels. But she couldn’t face it now, not tonight. It would be better attempted in the morning.

Still not wanting to risk a fire, Devoran contented herself with stale bread and cheese. Drummer got a bit of dried meat. No view of the lowlands tonight. Although she had more company, sharing her supper with a pair of rock thrushes, the male’s blue rump flashing brightly as he darted in for crumbs.  She watched the river for a while whilst the horses grazed a few clumps of coarse grass, preferring that to the dry hay. More birds came down to drink, a pair of ring-ouzels eyed her suspiciously and a black wheatear sat on a rock singing its rich warbling song.

Up at the first flush of dawn again, Devoran ate a few mouthfuls of soaked oats, her eyes on the bridge.  But it had to be faced and there was nothing to be gained by putting off tackling it.  Drummer hung about her legs as she hitched up Plugh. She would have to tie the dog up again, not wanting him on the cart when she made the crossing.  “You stay here, Drummer with Col. I am going to take the cart across first.” Best to get the difficult bit over with and hope Plugh would cooperate.  

Holding his head and walking backwards she guided him on to the first of the slabs. There were only inches each side of the wheels. But the horse couldn’t see that, and perhaps realising he had no other choice, let her lead him step by slow step.  The slabs were slightly wider in the middle and she started to relax a bit when suddenly two birds shot out from under the bridge, their harsh tac-tac-tac of alarm rising over the sound of the water.  Startled, Devoran let go her grip. Plugh pulled away from her and skewed around. The cart swung sideways, one wheel sliding over the edge of the stone. Drummer started barking madly from the bank, adding to the mayhem. “Plugh! Plugh! Stand!” she begged.  The old horse blew disgust down his nostrils as the angry ring-ouzels wheeled and dived at the intruders threatening their nest, but he didn’t move any more.

Devoran’s heart thumped in her chest; she wiped her clammy hands down the side of her tunic. The wheel had lodged on one of the supporting piers, safe from falling for the moment, as long as she didn’t upset the balance. But could she get it back on?  Her brothers would have cut a stave and heaved: it only needed to be lifted a few inches. But that was beyond her strength. It looked hopeless, but maybe if Plugh pulled, the wheel would slide back up over the lip of stone.

She encouraged him forward. “Come on, boy. You can do it.” The cart jerked, but settled back in the same place. “Come on, Plugh!”  As the horse pulled, there was a loud scraping noise, followed by the unmistakeable sound of splintering wood. The cart lurched and tipped drunkenly onto the bridge, the wheel splaying sideways. 

No! Now what did she do? Devoran stared at it, her stomach churning as her worst fears were realised. How could she carry on without a cart? Wiping a hand across her eyes, she sniffed, determined not to cry. She still had two horses. Swallowing, she reached for one of the straps. First things first – unhitch poor Plugh and get him to the bank.

With trembling fingers it took her ages to undo the stiff buckles, but at least the birds had shut up.  Once Plugh was free, she led him over to the bank. He’d be happy grazing the few clumps of grass whilst she sorted everything out. Retrieve her stuff next, and decide what to do about the hay. Hopefully there would be better grazing in the following days. Could she manage to ride Col and lead Plugh? It would be difficult. And what about Drummer?

Devoran climbed up onto the cart, and started to undo the ties. She would take all her belongings to the bank and then bring Col across and load up both horses. She pulled the lyres from under the canvas, and the bag of drawings, they weren’t going to travel so easily on horseback, but she needed to take the map. Loading her arms with as much as she could carry, Devoran grabbed the bag with her mother’s dresses with her free hand as she got down. There was not a lot of room, and as she squeezed herself under the pole she lost her balance. Clutching for a handhold, she loosened her grip on the bag of dresses and it fell with a soft plop into the water.

No, not the dresses! Devoran dumped everything else on the granite and got down on her knees to look under the bridge. The bag would surely be caught in the stones. But it had already gone. Letting out a long low wail of misery, she scrambled up and rushed to the other side, only to see it floating serenely away on the current.

Her eyes followed the bag; if it got swept into the bank she might be able to get it. Then she noticed Plugh, trotting purposefully away from her, heading down the valley. “Plugh! Plugh!” she yelled. No chance against the call of the summer grass. How could she have been such a fool! A farmer would probably find him, even recognise him, so he’d be safe. But what about her? How much could she load on Col? He already had her father’s sword and the candlesticks. If she put her food in the saddle bags she could tie on the hay bags, taking enough for emergencies. She would reach the lowlands much quicker riding Col than with the cart, and there should be enough grazing.

Drummer jumped up and down, demented with joy, when she went back to him. He must have thought he was being left behind. “I am afraid you are going to have to walk, Drummer.” Was that fair, his paws might get sore on the long road. And should she still go? What would she look like arriving with a few summer dresses, which was all she had left? All the good ones were floating down to the sea. Devoran sank down, put her arms around Drummer’s neck and sobbed into his fur. She was cold and shivery, and wanted to go home.

“But there is no home, is there Drummer? Not anymore.”  That decided her. Whatever lay ahead, there was no going back.

But now she had to get the three of them across the river. Drummer could have used the bridge, but seeing they were off, he bounded into the water. Not much point in keeping him on the end of a rope anymore, she’d never be able to ride and lead him in the days ahead.  She and Col would have to ford the river; the big horse wouldn’t get past the broken cart. Devoran thought of riding Col across, but, lacking confidence in her skills, led him. Not much depth of water to hinder them, but the riverbed was stony and uneven, so she would have to keep her boots on and put up with them being wet for the rest of the day.

The water was over her knees in places. She hung onto Col’s strong body as the icy current sucked the strength from her legs. No wonder the Rohirrim loved their horses if they were all like Col. Drummer didn’t mind, he waded the shallow bits and jumped from rock to rock when it got deeper.

Once across, it took ages to retrieve and sort out all her belongings. Devoran sobbed quietly to herself as she wrapped her up mother’s books and the candlesticks in the big piece of canvas. She would have to leave them, no way could she load everything on Col. And her father’s bow, she couldn’t carry that either, hers was much more use to her. But she would not part with his sword, snug in a scabbard it hung from the saddle. Her mother’s lyre had to be tied on somehow; she’d rather take that than her own. Devoran wrapped up all she had to discard and covered in with some rocks, although it seemed stupid to think she would ever get to retrieve it.

Still squelching and shivering, the heat of the day purged by despair and exhaustion, Devoran led the horse to a boulder so she could get on his back. The track zigzagged from the river up the valley side. With Col making little of the climb, sooner than she thought, she was on the road.

Drummer trotted a few feet ahead; far from home now, he bristled responsibility, reassuring her that he would stick close. As there was nothing to be seen on the road, Devoran studied the map. To her left the high Dwimorberg rose into a cloudless sky. Somewhere under its rocky crags, the road disappeared into a tunnel that ended in Rohan. But a little way along, perhaps around the other side of the rocky outcrop she could see, would be the turning for Erech and Tarlang’s Neck. The road to Minas Tirith.

She looked to her right. Clouds were piling up on the horizon, threatening a change in the weather. The road descended through a landscape of sparse trees and stunted bushes until it dropped away out of sight to gather up the villages and farms of the rich land between the mountains and the sea. It was the way to Dol Amroth.  Devoran stared down it; she could be there in a few days. But what then? What reception would she receive from Amroth’s family? A portionless girl, as Alhael had reminded her.  And one with only two summer dresses and a spare shirt and hose, riding what might very well be a stolen horse.

She turned left.

To be continued.

A/N – If anyone is interested in what type of Bridge Devoran had to cross, type – Clapper Bridges – into Google Images. LBJ

Original Characters mentioned in this chapter.

Devoran- G              Lord Duinhir’s Daughter.

Ashild - G                   Housekeeper to Lord Duinhir.

Bregil-  G                    General Servant, Ashild’s husband.

Alhael- G                  Devoran’s cousin. Son of Duinhir’s elder sister.

Chapter 8

July FA 01   - The Morthond Vale.  

“How much further? My backside’s getting stiff.” Erchi lifted himself in his stirrups and stretched.

“The village is just around the bend, you can see the roof of the house against that escarpment.” Amroth made no apology for waking everyone before dawn. He’d wanted to make sure of getting here today.  And Erchi might not be keen on long rides, but Ana looked happy enough, having no trouble keeping up with the men on the eager gelding he had provided for her. They had made good progress, very soon now he would see Devoran, and a new life would begin. At least he hoped it would begin, but the nearer he got to the moment of meeting, the more uncertain he felt. Would she happily agree with his plans, would a part-time husband suit her? During the journey he had come to realise that he wanted her so much he would put himself to any inconvenience to marry her, but she might not feel quite the same. What a position to find himself in; no wonder the whole situation afforded his brothers so much amusement. Amroth sighed deeply; very soon he would know and more thought would not change anything. Instead he looked around at the rich landscape, a lot different from when he had ridden through at the tail-end of winter – crops tall in the fields and the roadside edges billowing with herbs and flowers. The folk they had passed had looked up and stared, but that was not surprising considering the soldiers and the pennants. Hopefully, with the good summer, he would find a few smiling faces in the village this time.

No, not smiling: a number of villagers stood in the middle of the road, looking to be discussing something serious. They turned immediately as the dogs gave tongue to warn of the presence of strangers, and Amroth saw Thathar in the centre of the group.

Right away Thathar left the others and took a few paces towards the line of riders, waiting for them to get close enough to speak. Worry lines creased his face, and sensing some upset Amroth kicked Aero on, Erchi following him.

Thathar nodded a bow. “Lord, a good time for you turn up, if I might say so.”

Alerted further by the words, Amroth had to push down his unease to acknowledge Thathar with a smile. “I am visiting Lord Duinhir again, Thathar.”

“Say you’re visiting who you like, lord, but it won’t be Lord Duinhir. We put him in the ground a week or more ago.”

Dead! Duinhir had died! Then all his plans were for nothing. Why hadn’t she written? Amroth realised Thathar was waiting for a reaction, he schooled his features to show none of the tumult he was feeling. “In that case we will go up and offer our condolences to Lady Devoran.”

“You’ll not be doing that either, lord. Lady Devoran ain’t there.”

“Then where is she, man!” Erchi interrupted, impatient as always.

Thathar glanced at him and back to Amroth. “Don’t rightly know, that’s what was worrying us. Ashild and Bregil came through a few days ago on their way to their daughter’s, and said Lady Devoran had hurried them away before Lord Alhael arrived. Well, he hadn’t turned up by yesterday evening and some of us got worried – her being alone –so I went up there. And she’s gone!”

“Gone! Are you sure?”

“The stables were empty, lord. Both horses missing, and the cart. The animals had all been locked up with food and water, so I’d say wherever she’s taken off for, she planned it.”

Gone off somewhere! Why would she do that? The poor darling must be distraught. Or she had some plan in which he played no part. Amroth forced himself to speak calmly. “Does anyone have an idea where she is gone and why?”

Éldes moved up to stand beside her husband, she folded her arms defiantly. “Probably wanted to get away from that cousin of hers. Understandable, he’s nothing but a bully. But she shouldn’t have took off alone.”

“Alhael! Where is he?” Amroth snapped out. If that lazy good-for-nothing had anything to do with this…

Thathar pointed to the house. “Up there, lord. Came with his wagons this morning.” He spat into the dust in disgust. “But he looked more angry than worried when I told him Lady Devoran was missing. Quite mad in fact, said she’d stolen the horse!”

Amroth gagged down an oath. Devoran had disappeared and Alhael bothered about losing a horse! “You say she’s gone, and she planned it Thathar, but we never passed her on the road.”

“That’s just what we were discussing, lord. She couldn’t have come down through the village, that dog of hers sets ours going something awful. We’d have known, night or day.”

“Then which way did she go? There must be another road,” Erchi barked.

“She must have gone over the mountain, lord. Taken the track to Erech. I have just come down from talking to Lord Alhael, thinking he would have sent someone after her. But he said he’d had no one to spare. So Cúnir and Thinben have volunteered to try and catch her, make sure she at least gets to the road safely. But they’re on foot, although they can use the paths and run all day.”  He shrugged. “They have a chance because she’ll have to keep to the track, and that old horse will be slow.”

Amroth glanced to where two young men stood slightly apart from the rest, tall and dressed in grey, bows tied across their back. How many like these had been flattened into the Pelennor. He nodded to them. “Thank you. Lord Duinhir would be proud. But I think we will take over from here.”

“Doesn’t look as if I am likely to get off this horse yet awhile,” Erchi grumbled. “She must have known you were coming, Amroth, and couldn’t face marrying you!”

“Marrying you, lord.” Éldes exclaimed. With a great smile on her face, she moved close to him. Resting her hand on his thigh, she looked up into his eyes. “You get after her, lord. Lady Devoran deserves a good life and a handsome husband. Fair wore herself out looking after her father, that she did. And Lord Alhael did nothing! We all tried to help of course, but the burden fell on her. Lord Duinhir didn’t really settle with anyone else. Especially at night.”

Amroth felt sick: she must have had an awful time. And it sounded as if that sod Alhael had not lifted a finger! Why ever had she not sent word? “Don’t you worry, I’ll find her,” he assured Éldes. And he would, because for whatever reason she had left, even if she had no intention of marrying him, he couldn’t let her travel through the mountains on her own. If she didn’t want him, he would escort her to wherever she wished to go. A bleak thought, but one he might have to face. “Thathar, where does the mountain road start from?”

Thathar looked a lot happier than moments ago. “It starts behind the house, lord. The back of the stables.”

“Good!” Anger coursed through him as he thought of her taking one of the high lonely tracks on her own. There must have been a reason for her to have fled that way. His mouth twisted. “Going up there will give me a chance to have a word with fat cousin Alhael.”

Wasting no more time, Amroth waved the column into life again. Most of them had heard the conversation and those who hadn’t would soon find out. His mind was already busy deciding what to do. It looked like a chase over the mountains would be the next thing; it would be quicker with just a few of them, although taking all his men gave him more options if problems arose. But first he needed to glean all the information he could.

When he reached the house the gate stood open; two wagons pulled up in the courtyard were being unloaded, some chairs and a table piled beside them. Alhael stood just by the door shouting orders to a couple of men, his podgy face red, probably from the rich looking tunic he had on in the heat of a July day rather than exertion. He looked up at the sound of the horses, blanching white when he saw Amroth. With a glance towards the two princes and the soldiers, Alhael’s servants picked up a chair each and quickly disappeared inside.

Alhael wiped his hands down his tunic, a forced smile on his face.

“Looks pleased to see you,” Erchi murmured.

“He’ll be looking worse in a moment,” Amroth spat.

“Don’t kill him, Amroth, not until we find out why she left and where she might have gone.”

About to jump down, Amroth hesitated. Every moment meant Devoran was getting farther away, and he didn’t know how long ago she had left. “Send Caedor to see if he can confirm she took the mountain road, would you, Erchi. The villagers could have been mistaken.” Although he doubted it. But if there were any signs Caedor would find them. Having been interested in tracking since a boy, the months in Rohan had honed his skills. Amroth dismounted and handed his squire the reins. Alhael had already taken a step backwards, but as Amroth approached, he pulled himself straight and bowed a greeting. When the man looked up, Amroth saw beads of sweat on his upper lip, and guilt on his face.

“Ah, my lord. We weren’t expecting you. I am afraid Lady Devoran is not here. She decided to take a little trip.”

The man was slimier than a slug! Amroth grabbed the collar of his tunic. “If she wanted to go somewhere, why didn’t you provide her with an escort?”

Held up on tiptoe, Alhael spluttered out an answer. “I would have done so, of course I would have. But she never told me her intentions.”

Amroth fixed him with a cold stare.  “Didn’t she! So what made her go off without telling you?”

 “I don’t know,” Alhael blathered, eyes opening wide in fright. “She was supposed to be here when I arrived. But she is ever headstrong.”

Amroth shook him irritably, convinced Devoran was desperate to get away before Alhael arrived. But that did not excuse him for neglecting to search for her. “Then why haven’t you sent someone after her!”

“I….” Alhael was trembling so much he could hardly get the words out. “I was waiting to see if she came back.”

“Came back!  You thought she would come back when she took two horses and a cart?” Amroth challenged him.

Indignation pushed fright away for a moment; Alhael’s lips thinned. “She had no right to take that Rohirric horse.”

“Why you miserly cur. You’re worried about a horse!” Amroth could barely believe this. Anger flamed, but he needed information. “Tell me why she felt so desperate that she ran away without telling you where she was going.”

Alhael visibly quailed. “I have no idea, my lord.” Not believing him Amroth shook him viciously, and he stuttered out.  “I am telling you the truth.”  But he couldn’t hide the lie in his eyes. Furious, Amroth whipped out a knife, and pressed the point into the man’s throat. A speck of blood appeared.

“No…oh!” Alhael tried to pull away but Amroth gripped tighter, not letting go when he heard a woman shriek. But he swivelled his eyes around and saw Alhael’s wife in the doorway, white and shocked.

“Do you know why Lady Devoran left?” he bellowed.

Her mouth open, Corves shook her head, dropping her eyes from his.  Amroth turned back to Alhael, sure Devoran would not have gone on any journey on her own without good reason.  He brought his face close to Alhael’s, his voice controlled and hard. “I am a hair’s breadth from cutting your throat.”

“I tell you, lord,” Alhael stammered, “there was no reason for her to leave. I was prepared to fulfil my obligations and give her a home…”

“Obligations! Give her a home! This is her home you stinking crud!” More blood trickled down as the knife bit deeper. He wanted to kill the bastard!

“Hold, Amroth, killing him will tell us nothing.” In a quick movement Erchi grabbed Alhael’s arm; seizing his fingers he bent them back. Alhael screamed. “You’d better tell my brother what he wants to know, or I will break them.”

Sweat ran down Alhael’s face, he shook uncontrollably. Amroth withdrew his knife and smiled maliciously at him. “I promise you he means it. I would kill you cleanly, but Erchirion is not so fussy. He will break every bone in your body first.”

Alhael moaned and swayed. His eyes closed, as Erchi increased the pressure.

“Tell him, Alhael,” Corves called out, hiding her sobbing face in her hands.

Amroth caught his brother’s eye, cold and pitiless. “I think you had better,” he whispered.

Scared and quivering, Alhael could barely speak. Tears ran down his cheeks. “Let go, please let go. I said it with the best intentions.”

“Said what!” Amroth grabbed his collar again.

“Only that I would find her a husband. That’s quite normal. There was no need for her to run off on her own.”

“Unless you said something more.” Erchi sneered.

“Nothing that should have frightened her into leaving. She might not have liked my plans, but I have a right to gain from her marriage.”

“Why you grasping sod!” In one quick movement Erchi let go Alhael’s hand and chopped down on his forearm. The bone snapped just above the wrist. Corves fell to the floor in a faint as her husband let out a high-pitched scream. “Tell me what else you said to scare her, or I’ll break the other one.”

“The dog, I imagine,” Alhael whimpered, spittle running down his chin “I said I would kill the dog. She worships that flea-ridden mongrel.”

Incensed, Amroth pulled Alhael away from Erchi, and kneed him in the groin. He fell retching to the ground, choking on vomit.  Amroth looked down at the writhing figure; he wouldn’t soil his sword on the man. With a last kick at Alhael’s leg, he clicked his fingers and his squire ran over leading Aero. Amroth jumped on his horse and moved the big grey right up to the pathetic heap, tempted to trample him into the ground. “Don’t make yourself comfortable in this house. King Elessar will not be pleased to hear that the daughter of one of his war heroes was frightened so much she ran away from her home.” 

 Erchi walked away in disgust. Leaving Alhael on the floor, Amroth wheeled Aero round to where the others were waiting.  “We are leaving. There are still a few hours of daylight left and I want to get as far as I can. Ana, I’ll send two soldiers with you. You can wait in the village. I wouldn’t leave you with these dung gatherers.”

“No, Prince Amrothos.” Ana looked him right in the eye. “You’ll not leave me anywhere. I can keep up. When we find Lady Devoran, she’ll need a woman around. And anyway, I don’t want to be parted from Caedor.”

“She’s right, Amroth. Best to have a woman along.” Erchi laughed. “And she’s as good a rider as me.”

Better probably! Amroth nodded. “All right, Ana, and thank you. We will ride as far as we can tonight. Let’s hope Caedor has found something.”

They had gone barely a furlong up the stony track when Amroth saw him coming around the bend towards them. He had his head down scanning the ground but looked up when he heard them coming. A fair-faced young man, who had found his role in life. Erchi spoke well of him, and he was about to prove his worth. 

“Find anything, Caedor?” Amroth called as the scout neared him.

Caedor nodded, a smile on his face.  “Horse droppings, lord. Two different horses, couple of days old. Dog as well. Which makes me think Lady Devoran left in the morning, dogs tend to go first thing.”

“Never studied their habits, myself,” Erchi muttered, screwing up his nose.  

But Amroth agreed with Caedor, most animals opened their bowels as soon they got moving after sleep. So, no mistake – his fears confirmed: she had come this way. But why ever had Devoran fled to the mountains, and not taken the quickest and safest way – down the valley to Dol Amroth.

“Right!” Amroth turned to speak to those behind him. “Ride in pairs. Caedor will go a hundred yards ahead. As good a pace as we can manage until we lose the light. We will eat then.”

Caedor wheeled his horse around and set off at an easy trot. Devoran had a couple of days’ start on them!  Amroth forestalled the urge to push on fast. He might miss something, and anyway he couldn’t risk the horses, the loose stones were treacherous. He knew that Devoran’s pace with a horse and cart was about half of theirs. Hopefully less with an old horse.

Thoughts whirled around his head. Not as to why she had left, he knew that now – she would do anything if Drummer was in danger – but where she was going? Thathar said the track went to Erech, from there she could go three ways. Rohan he dismissed straightaway, no reason for her to go there even if she decided to brave the tunnel on her own. So it was either the road to Tarlang’s Neck, where she had another choice, south to Linhir or east along the mountain road through Lamedon. Both roads ended at Minas Tirith. A long way for a girl on her own. Or at Erech she could turn south and take the road to Dol Amroth. The sensible thing to do, and the choice he hoped she’d make, but if that was her intention then why hadn’t she taken the easy road down the vale?

Thinking through it brought him clarity; he called his Captain forward. “Gidon, Lady Devoran knows you. I want you to take four men and go back. Ride down the vale and cross the river, then head back to Erech up the main way.  If she turned south at Erech you will meet her, she can’t be travelling fast. But get as far as you can tonight and break camp before dawn in the morning.”

Gidon nodded. “If we find her before you, shall we wait?”

“Yes, hopefully Caedor should be able to work out which way she went, and we will meet you.”

“And if we don’t find her, lord?”

“Ride back up to Erech, we will leave signs at the cross roads.” Gidon nodded. Glad of his quick understanding, Amroth smiled. “Take what you need and get going.”

“You think she’s going to Dol Amroth?” Erchi asked.

“Truthfully, Erchi, I have no idea. I am beginning to realise that she is not likely to do the expected thing.”

“Reminds me of someone else I know – running off into the wilds.”

Amroth raised his brows. “You mean Lothíriel. Yes, I hadn’t thought of that. There are similarities, but in every other way they are completely different. I just hope she meets someone who looks after her as well as Mithrandir looked after our sister. But I fear there are much more dangerous people around.” He didn’t want to voice his fears – a girl on her own. Not all men were honourable.

“She should be safe enough in the mountains,” Erchi muttered. “I can’t see why anyone else would want to be up here.” 

Erchi was probably right: there was not even enough vegetation to graze a goat. But it didn’t stop his stomach churning with anxiety. Why in the Valar’s name hadn’t she sent him a message?

With Gidon gone, Amroth sped on, but the track deteriorated, becoming even stonier and broken, and the pace was slower than he wished. The sun had started to sink behind the peaks when Caedor called him forward. He pointed out where Devoran’s horses had drunk from a mountain stream – stones disturbed around the edge of a pool. And one dog’s paw-print in the mud. A little further on they stopped again where a rock fall covered half the road.

“She had to move the stones,” Caedor told him. “That pile there is not natural.”

“Would have slowed her down, doing all that,” Erchi mused.

Then it was no bad thing, but Amroth hated the thought of her being confronted by such obstacles and hoped she met nothing worse. The next time they stopped, Caedor’s words gave him a little heart. He had found where she had spent her first night, wisps of hay and horse dung giving away the spot. The light had almost gone and the horses were tired, so Amroth gave the order to make camp themselves. In only a few hours they had covered the same distance Devoran had travelled in a day. If they could make good progress on the morrow he had a real chance of catching her around Erech. 

The men dismounted, stretching the stiffness out of limbs and buttocks before they started their chores. Amroth knew he was pushing them, but had heard not one word of complaint. Caedor went up to Ana and lifted her down, dropping a kiss on her head as he did so. She looked tired, but was smiling, certainly looking happy enough in her marriage. Amroth was glad everything had worked out well for her. Better than for himself so far.

One of the other men took her horse away, and she sank against her husband. “Give me a moment and I will help with supper.”

“Ana!” Amroth called over. “Go and rest. Leave it to the men.” She looked about to disagree, but Caedor led her over to a rock. “Sit there and do as you are told.”

“All right,” she gave in. “But I’ll not sit, I’d rather walk around for a bit to get my legs going.”

With only enough fuel carried for one fire, the meal needed to be simple, a stew made from dried meat and beans. But it smelt good, and Amroth ordered the wineskin to be passed around. They were all on short rations that night, no grass for the horses. But he blessed his decision to bring a few bags of grain mix.  Fit and well nourished, the small meal wouldn’t hurt them tonight, and there should be grazing ahead.

After he had finished eating, Amroth wandered along to where Lady was tethered – on a rope wedged into a crevice by a rock. He rubbed his hand down her velvety nose. “I want her to be riding you, my pretty one, by my side.” Not out on her own in the dark and the wilds, exposed to countless dangers.  He should be riding on, using every moment to catch up with her, but the night had darkened. Clouds gathered to hide the stars and the waxing moon was only a few days old. He looked out into the black emptiness below him – too easy for Aero to stumble on the stones and miss his footing on such a treacherous track.  But he would be away at the first touch of light to the sky.

---

Amroth stared, his heart drum-beating in his chest. They had come around the outthrust of the mountain and stopped to look down on the Morthond River. “Is that what I think it is, Erchi?”

“Yes, afraid so.”

Amroth gathered up the reins, preparing to race down there, but Caedor spoke sharply. “No lord! Let me go down first, keep the others away. You will want to know what happened.”

Reluctantly Amroth nodded, knowing the wisdom of letting Caedor go first. He followed the scout down the track, his eyes locked on the awful sight of the wrecked cart. Sweet Elbereth, don’t let her be injured. But then sense kicked in and he realised that there was no sign of any horses, so she must have been able to release the carthorse. Unless the worst had happened and she had been attacked. But surely there would be no footpads in this desolate region, for there were no pickings worth hanging around for.  The thoughts went back and forth, hammering his head.

“She camped here,” Caedor said. “More hay around, and you can see where the horses cropped the clumps.”

 Yes, they would of course, Aero was doing just that. Amroth and Erchi followed Caedor across the bridge, but it was obvious what had happened and that Devoran, or someone, had undone the straps.

Caedor’s eyes searched the bank. Seeing something he ran across the bridge and knelt at the water’s edge.  “She led one horse across, there are some prints in the mud. And the dog’s still with her.”

“What’s that?” Erchi called out. He had been looking to where the track started its climb to the road, and pointed to a pile of rocks. Amroth could see some scraps of canvas poking out of it. He ran over and started pulling at the stones, throwing them to one side impatiently – books, a pair of candlesticks and a bow, possibly her father’s from the length of it. And a lyre, but not her mother’s: this one was made of wood.  Everything had been wrapped up carefully. He swallowed in relief; she had done this herself to protect the things she could not take with her. But now it meant she was likely to be riding, and be making greater speed. He had to get on!

“Load this lot on the packhorses,” he ordered. “We leave as soon as the horses have had a drink.”

---

To be continued.

List of Original Characters in this Chapter.

Devoran- G              Lord Duinhir’s Daughter.

Thathar- G           A Bowman from the Morthond Vale. Wounded badly on the Pelennor.              

Éldes- G                Thathar’s wife.

Cúnir & Thinben – G  Bowmen of the Morthond Vale.

Ashild - G                   Housekeeper to Lord Duinhir.

Bregil-  G                    General Servant, Ashild’s husband.

Alhael- G                  Devoran’s cousin. Son of Duinhir’s elder sister.

Corves- G                Alhael’s wife.

Caedor – G       Soldier inErchirion Company. Trained as scout in Rohan. Married to Ana

Ana -   G                   Junior maid in Dol Amroth. Went to Rohan with Lothíriel.            

Gidon -  G               Captain in Amroth’s Company

Chapter 9

Ered Nimrais

Devoran shivered, getting another soaking as a black cloud let go when it hit the mountain. She eased herself away from the leather for a moment. Ugh! Everything was wet. Her hose stuck to the saddle and water dripped off her hat. After spending an altogether miserable night at Erech, she felt ghastly. Even though she and Drummer had tucked themselves under a rocky overhang, the wind-blown drizzle had reached them.  The horror of the place hadn’t helped either. In spite of telling herself that the ghosts had gone, she had spent most of the night listening to every sound and longing for her own warm bed. How many more nights before she slept peacefully between clean sheets! Probably not until she got to Minas Tirith.

The enormity of her venture hit her again, and she swallowed down her anxiety. The further into the journey, the more she realised how difficult it was all going to be.  Not that she doubted King Elessar would keep his word and welcome her, but she had never thought to arrive with barely any clothes to her name and looking like a waif. Would he let her hide herself until she had sorted it all out? She didn’t know. In fact she knew nothing about the workings of the Court at all. Except that the Queen’s ladies she had seen in Dol Amroth were all extremely elegant. She could hardly appearmore different! Devoran took off her hat and shook off the worst of the water, before ramming it on her head again. At last! It had stopped raining!  She opened her cloak and pushed it back. Perhaps it would dry a bit… and perhaps she should stop worrying about something she couldn’t change.

Her most pressing problem at the moment was to replenish her food stocks, as she had nothing but oats, hard biscuits and cheese left.  How she longed for some fresh bread and fruit. Drummer couldn’t complain, as he had feasted off the rabbits she had killed for him. Maybe she should have cooked one for herself but, even had she overcome her squeamishness to skin it, caution would have stopped her making a fire. It had been the odd glances she had got from the few travellers they had met that made her wary. Why had she not realised that such a well bred horse would attract attention, especially when ridden by a peasant lad.

Luckily most had been local farmers, and Drummer had been so defensive they had kept away. But if she was going to be the subject of curiosity, she definitely ought to take the high road, and not drop to the lowlands through Linhir. The towns would surely be more dangerous for her. A growl from Drummer brought her out of her reverie. He had become more and more protective as the journey progressed, keeping a few feet in front of Col for most of the way.

Devoran pushed her hat out of her eyes and stared ahead. The sky was clearing, a watery sun making an effort to elbow between the clouds. She could see no one on the road, but from somewhere heard the clip of hooves and the rumble of wheels. She pulled Col to a halt, wondering where the sound was coming from. Moments later a small cart emerged from some trees onto the road a little way in front of her. It was loaded with vegetables with a goat tethered behind. A man and woman sat on the seat, the woman wearing a bonnet and the man, who was flicking a stick to make the mule get a move on, a hood and hat much like her own. A farmer and his wife going to market, she guessed. She could just see the fork in the road from here. Which way would they go? They went to the left – the high road – and she knew from the map that the first real village was not far along there. All she had seen so far were isolated farmhouses and a ruined castle. If it were market day she could restock. That thought made her keen to get there and she gathered up the reins again.

“Come on Col, you had some lovely grass last night, but I am very hungry.” She urged him on. There had been no point pushing the pace, and making Drummer run all the way. Although so far he had showed no distress, except that he had chosen to pad along the grass on the edge of the road whenever he could.

The land had softened since Erech, and once through the gorge at Tarlang’s Neck only scattered rocky outcrops pushed down into the high pastures. The pinnacles of the Ered Nimrais were way above her now. To her right the land sloped down towards the distant coastal plains, and as the sun won through, she saw the silver glint of a river way below. The road followed the undulations of the hills and she guessed the village was hidden by a small rise. Cirlion, if she remembered the name correctly.

She had been right about the market. Reaching the first dwelling, Devoran saw a woman coming towards her with a live chicken in one hand and pail of milk in the other. The woman stared, but ducked into the doorway of a low stone cottage without saying anything. The road widened, many houses clustering along its edges, interspersed with plots of cultivated land that supported pecking hens, goats and the odd cow. Gradually the beaten way opened into a sizable square, thronging with carts, stalls and people. Devoran stopped; she couldn’t let Drummer loose amongst that lot – Cirlion must be the trading centre for all the farms around. Many folk had brought their carts and were selling anything from vegetables to piglets off the back of them, but there were also some stalls and she saw one piled with pies and pasties and another where the stallholder had hung sides of bacon. Quickly she slipped off Col and got out a piece of rope; she’d have to tie him up somewhere. There wouldn’t be room between the stalls for such a big horse. 

A spreading tree solved her problem. Old and knurled it grew at the side of a pond, shading a corner of the square. On one side a group of lads were playing knucklebones, and under the canopy of its branches on the other there was a queue of people. Devoran saw that they were waiting for the attention of a young woman who had a wooden table set up alongside her, on which were laid the accoutrements of a healer. The woman, who had her hair neatly braided around her head and wore a grey tabard over her dress, poured something from a stone bottle into a cup. She handed it to a little girl, who after a moment’s hesitation drank it down, screwing up her nose in disgust. Not wanting to interfere in the work of the local healer, Devoran led Col and Drummer as far away as possible and tied them both to a low branch. The boys had stopped their game, watching her every movement.

“Don’t go near the dog,” she warned, in what she hoped was a convincingly gruff voice.  “He’s dangerous.”

Drummer gave truth to her words by raising his lip threateningly to a small brown and white mongrel that got nosey.

The boys stepped back. But when Drummer did nothing more, one, braver than the rest, sidled up to Col.

“That’s a big horse you got there, can I have a ride?”

“Sorry! He’s a warhorse. Come any closer and he’s liable to kick you!”

That made them go back to their game. Poor Col, he had such a nice nature Devoran couldn’t imagine him kicking anybody. She smoothed her hand down his nose. “I couldn’t do this without you.” She hated the thought of selling him, but what choice did she have? Once she reached Minas Tirith he would have to go.

The boys had lost interest, and confident that Drummer would keep anyone away from her things and Col, she wandered into the market. A few curious looks were thrown her way, plus a lot of questions as to where she was going, but she answered with no more than a grunt and a nod of her head. She hated to be so ill-mannered, but was not convinced her disguise would hold at such close quarters, and being discovered as a woman would raise more problems. Luckily they must be used to travellers here, because only a few shrugs and scowls countered her rudeness, and the stallholders sold her what she wanted and left her alone. Bread, a couple of meat pasties, a piece of salted pork and some early apples were loaded into an empty hay bag. There were raspberries being sold from the back of a cart, but with no basket to put them in, she bought a handful and enjoyed them there and then.

Back under the tree Devoran stowed her purchases in the saddlebags, keeping out a pasty. The boys had gone, so she sat down with her back against the trunk to eat it, sharing with Drummer.  Tired, she closed her eyes for a moment and, the pasty finished, Drummer curled up against her. They should get on, but her limbs felt heavy, and it was nice to be amongst other people, even if she daren’t speak to them.

The next thing she knew, her face felt hot. The sun had moved, long rays peeking under the branches.  Devoran saw that the stallholders were packing up, and the lady healer had gone. Two young lads were taking the table away somewhere. Devoran got up quickly, brushing bits of leaf and crumbs from her tunic. She must have dozed; at this rate she’d never get to Minas Tirith. Devoran took hold of Col’s reins, deciding to find somewhere to mount easily. All the bags and her mother’s lyre made it more difficult than usual to get on his back. She skirted around the edge of the square, and passed by a woman selling milk straight from her cow. With just water to drink for days, Devoran would have liked some, but now she had reins in one hand and Drummer’s rope in the other, and did not dare to let the dog go with so many temptations for trouble around.

She was still tired in spite of the sleep, and her legs were suffering from the unaccustomed riding. Also she could do with drying off her clothes and perhaps washing a few things. With any luck there would be somewhere to camp just outside the village.

“That’s a nice bit of horse-flesh you got there, lad!”

Deep in thought, Devoran started, and looked around to see who was talking to her. Her eyes levelled on three men with mugs in their hands. Without quite knowing why, she shuddered – a scruffy ill-favoured trio she would rather avoid. Her eyes flicked upwards and she realised they were sitting outside an attractive inn – The Tickled Trout. The man in the middle got up, put his mug down on a table and took a step towards her.  He had a coarse pock-marked face and sly slit eyes. Drummer growled, pulling on the end of the rope.

“No need for the dog to take on.” His lips twisted into the semblance of a smile. “I’m just interested in how come a lad like you has charge of such a fine horse.”

She bit down a cutting remark that would tell him it was none of his business, and tried to respond as to the part she was playing. “I’m delivering him to my master,” she answered, mumbling into her hood. Mean eyes swept over Col.

“And I suppose that’s your master’s sword, is it?”

“It’s his spare,” Devoran snapped.  “And I can’t hang about. I’ll be in trouble if I don’t meet him in time.” She pulled on Col’s reins, but the man whipped around to block her path. His two friends quickly put down their mugs and jumped up. Immediately Drummer launched at the nearest leg, teeth barred. Col’s ears went back, he didn’t like them either.

The man leapt out of the dog’s reach, drawing thin lips back in a snarl. “Keep the cur off me!”

“Then get out of my way!” Devoran hauled Drummer back, the rope biting into her hand. The man leered evilly at her, and her stomach churned in fear. She’d drop the rope if he didn’t let her pass. Drummers’ hackles were right up, and he was growling viciously.

“Oy! What’s going on here?”

Devoran swung her eyes around. A large, florid-faced man, wearing a brown apron, stood in the doorway of the inn. He strode towards them, a determined expression on his face. “Leave the lad alone!”

“No harm meant,” the slit-eyed fellow said. “Just passing the time of day.”

“Then get out of his way, and drink up and be gone. I am fed up with you hanging around here upsetting folks going about their lawful business.”

The men slunk back to their ale. The Landlord scowled at their backs before he addressed Devoran.

“And you, lad, if you are travelling the road, you’d be better staying here tonight. There’s no other inn for leagues.”

Devoran shook her head. The exchange had shocked her and she had to take a few breaths before she could answer. “No, thank you, I will get on.”

“You’d be safer here. I’ll not charge you much if you share.”

 “No. Thank you,” she muttered, pulling at Col. With another nod she hurried the horse and dog away, only then realising she was trembling.  Out of sight she struggled into the saddle, wanting to get far away from such awful men as quickly as possible.  How many more like that would she come across? She shouldn’t be doing this, and if Alhael hadn’t turned out to be so wicked, she could have written her letter to Amroth and all might have been different. Devoran sniffed, blinking back a tear: or it might not. There was no promise that things would have turned out the way she wished. But if Amroth still wanted to marry her, he would come to Minas Tirith. She just had to hold on to hope.

---

The light had nearly gone, and as Amroth followed Caedor past a wooded area, the road darkened even more. The Blackroot to the slopes of Lamedon in just one day! Everyone was weary, but he’d go on alone if necessary. At least they had dried out in the fresh breeze that had sprung up a few hours ago. The only good thing about the rain that morning was that it had made it much easier to pick up Devoran’s tracks in the soft earth.  Amroth sighed, an empty hole in the pit of his stomach: at first he had not really believed she had not gone down to Dol Amroth. But Caedor had been sure, pointing out Col’s unmistakeable hoof prints – he favoured his right fore, probably due to his battle injury.

And then at Erech they had found her camp – a bracken bed made under an overhang, and nearby the remains of a rabbit with signs of dog all around. Now he had to accept that some madness had driven her along the lonely road through Tarlang’s Neck, and her first thought had not been to run to him.  That dismayed him, but it didn’t stop him. Whatever her reasons, he had no intention of letting her go unescorted. She couldn’t know the dangers she faced: not every corner of Gondor had been swept clean.

Amroth put his hand up as Caedor stopped where the road forked. The others piled up behind, and Erchi came alongside him. They waited patiently, watching Caedor scour the road that dropped to the right. Shaking his head, he retraced his steps and started down the left hand fork.

“It’s no good, lord. It’s too dark to see,” he called as he walked back to them. “I can make out nothing.” He came up to Aero’s side. “I am sorry, lord. I have no idea which way she went. It will have to wait until first light.”

“We will light some torches.” Amroth couldn’t bear to stop now. He didn’t want her spending another night alone in the wilds. “If we go in twos we will find something.” 

“Amroth,” Erchi said, his voice weary. “I understand your worries, but the horses and the men are tired out. And you cannot expect Caedor to do any more tonight. Let us start at first light.”

Amroth moved his eyes from his brother to the scout. Fatigue showed in both their faces. Reluctantly he nodded. “You are right, we shouldn’t push the horses any more. But I want to press on at dawn. If you will come with Caedor and just a few others, we can go at a good speed. The rest can bring the packhorses and follow us on. I know we will catch her tomorrow.”

Erchi yawned, nodding agreement. To be fair he had said nothing about the fact that Devoran had chosen Minas Tirith over Dol Amroth, for once forbearing to scoff and tease. Grateful for that, Amroth smiled at him.

“I really am sure it will be tomorrow.”

“Well, I hope so, little brother. I didn’t think the novelty of you chasing a woman would tire me out quite so much.”

Amroth found a laugh from somewhere, and slapped Erchi on the back. “Let’s get some supper.”

The men quickly set up the camp and got a blaze going. They needed something hot. Ana sat on a blanket, her head resting on her knees, thoroughly exhausted. Amroth felt a pang of guilt. “Ana, I don’t want you riding with us tomorrow. Come with the packhorses and Lady.”

She looked up, her face thoughtful. “If you are sure you will catch Lady Devoran tomorrow, then I will, lord. My legs feel like jelly. But I’ve been thinking, about when you asked that farmer today if he had seen a woman rider with a dog.  If it were me travelling through these wild lands all alone, I’d dress up as a man.”

Amroth stared at Ana; she was wearing hose and a woollen tunic. Cover her hair and it would be difficult to tell unless you were very close.  If Devoran had done that, then hopefully the disguise would help keep her safe. “You are right; I am not sure why I didn’t think of it.” Not that it would have made much difference, a horse and rider would be strange enough in these parts anyway. But he wouldn’t ask about a woman again.

---

Up before dawn, Amroth had Caedor out at the first hint of a glow in the sky, choosing to search the high road first – she was a mountain girl after all.

“You’re sure, Caedor?”

With barely enough light to see, the scout pointed to one hoof print on the side of the road. “No mistake, lord. All the rest belong to ponies or mules. Fresh tracks too, it appears the road was well travelled yesterday.”

That fitted in with his instincts, and his fears: she had taken the road that hugged the lower slopes of the Ered Nimrais, shunning the safer way that ran down to Calembel and Ethring. “Well travelled? I wonder why.” Amroth mused. “A village nearby do you think?”

“Could be, lord.” Caedor replied. “One would expect it.”

Amroth hadn’t brought a map, knowing the way he had been expecting to take, and was now relying on memory. But they would soon find out what lay ahead. “Right, let’s get going!” He looked back to the junction and waved to Erchi and the other soldiers waiting there.

The road was good enough to keep up a fair canter, and Amroth’s hopes of catching Devoran soon increased. They topped a rise and saw the spread of dwellings before them, a sizable community stretched out along the road between two hills. Amroth swept down on the village, praying that after the wet night she would have had at Erech, she might have stayed under a roof.

Not many people were about, with the sky still pink from the dawn. The first woman he asked had seen nothing; she threw her hens a handful of grain and shook her head. “No, lord. But then it was market day yesterday, and the village was full to bursting.”

Amroth thanked her. But surely someone would have noticed the horse and the dog. No luck with the old man who crossed the square in front of them, who was more interested in his three sheep. Only by constant attention from his stick, and by his dognipping at their ankles, did he have any chance of keeping them together.

“There’s an inn down there,” Erchi pointed along the road. “She might have stopped the night.”

If only she had! Amroth saw a pleasant inn, with some wooden tables outside. A large man was sweeping the dust from around the doorway. He raised his head at the sound of hooves, leant on his broom and watched them approach with interest.

Not keen on looking down on people when he wanted help, Amroth dismounted, and led Aero forward. “Good day to you. I am Amrothos of Dol Amroth.” He indicated Erchi. “My brother Prince Erchirion.”

The man opened his eyes wide in surprise, and bobbed his head. “Handor, lord. Landlord of The Tickled Trout, the best inn in Lamedon. Do you wish a room? And we have some good stables around the back.”

“Not at the moment, Handor. I am after information. We are tracking a… young man riding a bay gelding, should have a dog with him.”

Handor nodded knowingly and scratched his chin. “In trouble, is he, lord? I did wonder when I saw the fine horse.”

He’d seen her! Amroth’s heart thumped. “No, sh …he’s not in trouble. We just need to make sure he gets where he’s going safely. Is he here?”

“No, but he went through yesterday afternoon.”

Amroth’s heart sank. Damn! Why hadn’t she taken a room at the inn where she would have been protected!

“I tried to get him to stay the night,” Handor carried on. “The roads aren’t too safe. And he’d already attracted undesirable attention with that horse he was riding.”

“What do you mean?” Amroth demanded. But she was bound to cause interest, wasn’t she? Not many Rohirric warhorses here.

“There were three objectionable characters around. Said they were looking for work.” Handor’s eyes narrowed. “But I have my suspicions. We have had a bit of trouble with thievery from the isolated farms, and one traveller lost his horse overnight. Nothing to link it to those three, mind, I am not saying that.  But they gave your friend a hard time until I stepped in.”

Already hollow inside, this was everything he feared. “Where are they now?” Amroth waited anxiously, wanting to hear they were still in the village.

“Drank up and disappeared, I didn’t see them after that. Strikes me they could had had their eyes on that horse, and the fancy sword.”

“But they were on foot?”

“Aye,” Handor answered. “But the road goes the long way around the hill. There are many shorter paths for those that know.”

With cold dread stealing through him, Amroth swung around to Erchi.

His brother jerked his head in the direction of the road. “I think we had better get going. I don’t like the sound of this.”

With a quick nod, Amroth grabbed Aero’s reins and swung into the saddle. He shouted to Handor. “The rest of my party will be here soon. Send the men on after me, stable the spare horses and give the woman a room, will you?”

“Aye, lord. I’ll do that,” Handor said, a bit bemused.

Not even waiting to explain more, Amroth dug in his heels. Aero took off, the others in pursuit.

---

Devoran finished tying on the last bag, and leant her head against Col’s warm neck. She had no energy or inclination to continue her journey, which was why the sun now shouldered over the hill. She should be making use of every hour of daylight, but all sense of urgency had left her. What did it matter how long the journey took or even if she got there at all? The future was going to be so difficult that, right now, she didn’t want to face it. A tear trickled down her cheek. It had seemed such a good idea to go to court, but she had totally underestimated the problems her flight would give her. She was stiff from sleeping on the hard ground, sore from riding, covered in bumps where the insects had made a meal of her, and fed up with the hood that made her head itch when she got hot, even though she had plaited her hair for coolness. Not only that, the linen around her breasts had started to chafe. Devoran sniffed as Drummer rubbed against her legs.

 “You are right, Drummer, I am feeling sorry for myself. That won’t do, will it? I have to go on; I can’t let my brothers down. They would have wanted me to be strong.” Suddenly some of Amroth’s words sent light through the grey in her mind – he had talked to her brothers; they would have been friends.  Fool! What had she done! She should have gone to Dol Amroth, even if his father had not let him marry her, he would have made sure she was safe. But it was too late to change her mind now, stupid to go back through that village with those horrible men around. She had to go on.

Still sniffing, Devoran led Col to a rock. She had left the road the evening before and gone into a small dell, making her and Drummer a den under the bracken. Water, grazing and a rabbit for Drummer, it had made a good campsite. Except for the biters.  Her arms were itching like mad, but she had to resist the urge to scratch, that would make them worse

“We must go, Drummer, I can’t put it off any longer.” Devoran clambered up on Col’s back and settled herself. “Let’s be off, Col, back to the road.”

She followed the stream down the dell. The water bubbled and tinkled over the stones, reminding her that she had heard that sound every time she had woken in the night. A dipper bobbed up and down on a boulder in the middle, but as she approached it took off downstream, skimming the water until it disappeared amongst the rocks. The stream hit the road in a rush but was forced under stone slabs, until free again, it plunged down the hillside bouncing over smooth rocks and swirling eddies under the overhanging ferns. The stream was travelling south, making for one of the rivers that cut down to the coast.  Devoran pulled her eyes away and started east again; wishing for the unattainable would do her no good at all. 

The road sloped gradually upward, winding around the side of the hill, while to her right the land fell steeply away where a scree slope had slid down from higher up. At some time, great boulders had fallen from the mountain; they dotted the hillside like marbles thrown by the hand of a giant. One huge one lay right next to the road, and as they neared it Drummer stopped. He let out a low growl, the fur on his back spiked in warning.

“What is, Drummer?” Devoran whispered. A lion maybe? She had been lucky so far, but would have expected one higher up in the mountains, not here. With Drummer still growling, slowly her shaking hand reached for her bow.

To be continued.

List of Original Characters in this Chapter.

Devoran- G              Lord Duinhir’s Daughter.

Caedor – G       Soldier in Erchirion’s Company. Trained as scout in Rohan. Married to Ana

Ana -   G                   Junior maid in Dol Amroth. Went to Rohan with Lothíriel.            

Handor – G             Landlord of The Tickled Trout – an Inn in Cirlion, Lamedon

Chapter 10

Lamedon. Gondor.

Her fingers closed over the end of the bow, but before Devoran could pull it free from its strap, a man stepped out from behind the rock. His hand held a long knife; it pointed it towards her.

“You stop there if you know what’s good for you,” he snarled.

Devoran gasped, shock and fright freezing her for a moment. But with an angry growl, Drummer rushed to attack, hackles stiffening along his back.

“No, Drummer!” Devoran yelled, terrified he’d get hurt.

Unheeding, Drummer launched himself. Obeying some instinct he went straight for the arm holding the knife. In his surprise, the man slashed too late, dropping the knife as the dog’s teeth dug into his arm. Drummer’s weight pushed him over backwards and he tried to get his hands around the dog’s neck.  But Drummer held on, ripping through the wool.

Forgetting the bow, Devoran shouted again. If Drummer came away, she could turn Col and gallop back to the village; Drummer could outrun a man. But as Drummer tore at the attacker’s arm, another thug appeared. He picked up the dropped knife and tried to plunge it into Drummer’s neck. But the twisting dog did not make a steady target and the knife sank into his shoulder. Drummer shrieked, and let go. His assailant booted him hard in his ribs and Drummer crumpled onto the road. He lay quivering.

As the first attacker struggled to his feet, Devoran kicked Col forward. Scared they would use the knife again she could only hope to mow them down. But as the horse moved, a hand grabbed at the reins. Intent on Drummer she hadn’t seen the third ruffian come out the other side of the rock behind her.

 Sweet Elbereth, save her! She recognised his cratered face. Desperately she tried to kick him, but neighing furiously Col reared up, pulling the reins from restraining hands. The thug stepped back quickly out of the way of flaying hooves. Her balance upset, Devoran could do nothing as the horse reared again. He snorted angrily, trying to trample his enemy. Warhorse he might be, but she had not been expecting this reaction and, not skilled enough to manage him, she couldn’t hang on. She fell, landing hard on the ground, the wind knocked out of her.

Col galloped away, kicking his heels. She lay on the road gulping air, too shaken to move. But as her breathing eased she became conscious of whimpers coming from Drummer. Thank the Valar! He was still alive! Then she heard that hateful voice – the pock-marked man – it sent shudders through her.

“Get rid of the dog, and I’ll get the boy to call the horse. They’re trained not to leave their riders.”

“No!” she pleaded. “I’ll get the horse, if you don’t hurt my dog anymore.” Her only thought was for Drummer.  Would Col come back if she called? But when she lifted her head, she realised that the horse was standing a little way along the road. As he saw her he whinnied, tossing his head and looking ready to attack at her command, but she had no idea of the words to make him.

Painfully, every bit of her hurt, she tried to get to her feet. Before she could do so the ruffian snatched at her collar, yanking her upright.  Devoran muffled a cry of pain as her tormentor twisted his grip, pulling the collar tight on her neck.

 “Please don’t kill my dog. You can have the horse and the sword,” she choked out, her eyes meeting a yellow- toothed grin.

“Listen to him whine; he doesn’t want his dog killed.” His sneering lips came close to her ear. “So since we are kind folk we’ll just send him on a little journey.” The man, he must be the threesomes’ leader, jerked his head towards the edge of the road. Unable to move, she watched helplessly as the two others picked up Drummer by the fur on his back. He struggled and snapped, but they threw him over the edge of the scree slope. He rolled down the loose stones, wailing pitifully. Col snorted, stamping his hooves in fury. One of the men lunged for him but he snaked sideways, out of reach.

Momentarily diverted, the hateful brute holding her loosened his grip. With tears streaming down her cheeks, Devoran kicked and punched to try and get away. Rage gave her strength, and she clawed at his ugly face, not caring what happened to her.  But the next moment she was flung backwards, pain exploding in her head. Distraught for Drummer, she hadn’t seen the blow coming. She lay panting, the side of her face on fire. The man stood over her, his eyes glittering malice. But as he stared, a change came over his expression.  His lips twisted into an evil grin.

“Why, look at this, lads. What a prize!  It well makes up for that climb over the hill!”

She had lost her hat falling off Col, now her hood had got pushed back in the scuffle. Revealed as a woman, Devoran trembled uncontrollably, the lust in her attacker’s eyes all too apparent.

The other two crowded round, leering hungrily down at her.

She said the first thing that came into her head. “No, don’t touch me! I am under the King’s protection. He will reward you if you let me go!”

“Oh!” The leader laughed cruelly, already tugging at this belt. “I think we will take our reward now.”

Devoran screamed. Using her heels she desperately pushed herself away from him. The cliff was behind her. She’d rather fling herself over and join Drummer than endure what was coming. Before she got to the edge, the lout grabbed at her ankles and pulled her back towards him. She tried to lash at his face but she couldn’t reach. Frantically she kicked her legs trying to get free. His grip tightened.

“Get her arms, you two,” he bawled to his friends as he got her to the middle of the road. “Keep her nails away from me.”

---

The scream echoed back from the mountainside. Amroth froze. Devoran! He dug his heels in and Aero thundered down the road. From behind, he heard Erchi yelling for him to wait, but paid no heed.

Another scream. The terror in her voice made the blood in his veins run cold.

He rounded a bend – two men were legging it up the hillside, but there were three of the bastards…

“Up there!” Erchi shouted from behind him. “Get them!”  He bellowed out an order, and Caedor and the two soldiers peeled off, charging up the slope after the fugitives.

Sword already in his hand, Amroth hauled Aero to a halt. Erchi slid to a stop alongside him, his horse foaming.

 “Let her go!” Amroth spat. He had made a mistake; her scream had banished any rational thought. They should have circled around and crept up, instead the noise of the horses had given warning. Now Devoran had a knife at her throat. A red weal blazed down one side of her face and her plait had worked loose, but it was the sight of her frightened eyes that angered him more than anything he had ever known.

“Let her go, I said.” But the crud holding her only sneered. A big ugly sod with slit eyes and a cruel mouth. 

“Come any closer and I’ll slice her from ear to ear.”

“And your guts will be spilling on the road!”

“Is that so! Then I have nothing to lose. I might as well have a last bit of fun.”

“Go careful, Amroth,” Erchi whispered. “He knows he’s a dead man.”

Devoran tried to pull away. But the arm around her waist tightened, and she gasped for breath. The knife pressed against her throat, a thin line of blood trailed down her creamy skin.

“Wait!” Amroth shouted, petrified. “I am only interested in the woman. Let her go unharmed, and you can make your escape.”

“Want her yourself, do you!” he jeered. “And what’s she worth to a fancy lord like you?”

Everything! She was worth everything he had. But what did the bastard want! The horse? Col stood a little way down the road. Ears pricked. Watching.

“Bribe him, Amroth,” Erchi murmured. “Promise anything.”

 “You can take the horse. That’s what you were after, I imagine. I’ll call him, and you let her go. Make your escape.”

“How far would I get! You’d run me down before the next bend.” A scornful laugh turned his pock-marked face into a hideous mask.

He would tear the swine limb from limb for putting his hands on Devoran! Revolted, Amroth spoke abruptly. “I told you, I only want the woman. You can go free. My word on it.”

“Your word!” Another sneer played on his lips. “You’d not waste it on the likes of me. I’ve a better idea. Get the horse, and I’ll take the lady, too. I’ll drop her off when I am sure you can’t catch me…” His mouth twisted. “My word on it.”

“No…, Amroth,” Devoran moaned. “Don’t let him take me.”

Amroth tried to smile reassuringly. But in truth he felt far from confident. The brute held all the aces – any aggression on their part would put Devoran in real danger. He had no doubt that her captor wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. No chance of the others sneaking up on him either – the swine had his back to a steep drop and would see any attempt to get behind him. But Amroth might get Col to cause a diversion. That was if he, and the horse, could remember the Rohirric commands.

“I can’t let you take her, but I’ll dismount and move a distance from my horse. So will my brother. That will give you time to get away.”  He didn’t think the swine would go for it, but wanted to keep him talking whilst he thought.

The slit eyes narrowed further. “I’m not such a fool, you’d catch me in minutes on that great charger!”

“Then take this one yourself! He’s worth twice as much as the other.” That would end it; Aero would have him off with one whistle.

“You really do believe I am a dumbhead, thinking I’d get up on that beast. I’ve said what I want and I’m not budging. In case you haven’t noticed.” He leered down at Devoran. “She’s going nowhere without me.” 

Amroth gritted his teeth, rage choking him. He had to keep calm. His eyes swept around looking for some inspiration, when he saw a movement down the hill, just below the road. Drummer! It was Drummer!  The dog was crawling slowly up the slope, keeping to the edge of the scree. Had Erchi seen him? Amroth dared not draw his attention in case it was noticed. But his brother’s horse fidgeted, chewing down on his bit, and Amroth realised that he had. The tension had made him tighten the reins.

Drummer had a fair way to go; Amroth saw that the dog was moving awkwardly. He looked in pain.  That made sense – Drummer would never have left Devoran otherwise. But now the dog might distract the bastard for a moment, giving Erchi an opportunity to act. The other option was to wait until Devoran was seated on Col and get him to rear as the sod tried to get on.

He had to let Devoran know he was working on a plan: she might have to move fast. “Devoran,” Amroth wanted her full attention. “Devoran,” he repeated. “I promise that there is no way I will let you get hurt.”

Devoran’s eyes fixed on him. She tried to smile but her lips only quivered.

 “We will have to trust this gentleman to keep his word.”

Panic flashed on her face. “No…,” she mouthed. But Amroth kept his gaze on her, sending all his thought that everything would be well. Slowly she relaxed a bit and nodded.

He lifted his eyes from Devoran to the brute holding her. “All right,” he said, deliberately sounding defeated. “I will call the horse. You let her off an hour down the road. I won’t follow, that way we have to trust each other.”

“That’s better. I knew you’d see sense. Get down off your horses and put your swords on the ground. I don’t want no tricks. I hear you coming after me, and she’s for it.”

Amroth looked towards Erchi, who nodded. They both dismounted and laid their swords on the road.

“And those knives.”

Amroth didn’t argue, he pulled his knife from his belt. So did Erchi.

“Right! Call the horse. But don’t come any closer; remember my knife will be right there.”

Amroth risked a glance towards Drummer. He was nearing the top, moving slowly, exhausted by the effort. Amroth prayed he wouldn’t announce his presence with the knife still at Devoran’s throat.  Not sure what the dog would do, he put his fingers to his lips and whistled. Col pricked his ears, and Amroth whistled again. “Néalǽcan!” He shouted the Rohirric command for the horse to come.

Blowing down his nostrils in answer, Col started to trot towards them. But he stopped a little way away, the unusual situation unnerving him. Good, Col had done what he had hoped. Amroth kept his face impassive.

“You’ll have to let Devoran get him.”

Amroth let his breath out – he didn’t realise he’d been holding it – when the swine dropped the knife from Devoran’s throat. 

He roughly pulled her arm up behind her back and pushed her forward. “Go on. I am right behind you.”

Unbalanced, Devoran stumbled. And as her captor heaved her up, Amroth saw Drummer. The dog had reached the road, just to the right of them. He stood there panting for a moment, but then he saw his mistress in the grip of a man he detested. His lip curled, and he growled a vicious warning. Knife in one hand, the other hanging on to Devoran, the man swung around just as Drummer launched at his legs.

 “Devoran, get down!” Amroth yelled.

Devoran pulled from the hand holding her with such force that she fell on the ground again, scrambling to get away as the attention moved from her to Drummer. Roaring in pain and anger, the lout kicked out at the attacking dog, and lifted his knife to finish him. But before he could strike, he fell forward, Erchi’s dagger, plucked from his boot in a well-practised movement, sticking out of his back. 

Amroth snatched up his sword. Hurling himself the few yards he rammed it through the bastard’s neck, pinning him to the ground and leaching his stinking blood into the dust.

 With a cry of relief he scooped Devoran into his arms.  She was shaking so much she could hardly get her words out.

“Amroth…, what are you doing here?”

“What do you think, Devoran!” His breath came in gasps, relief that she was safe being replaced by anger that she had put herself in danger. “I came to talk to you. I came to marry you!” His voice rose as frustration mounted.  “But instead I have been chasing you through the mountains for two days. Whatever possessed you to do such a fool thing!”

Her eyes opened wide in surprise, and her lips trembled. Then the tears came and she started to sob, taking great gulps of air. His anger disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced; only guilt remained for yelling and upsetting her more.   Amroth hugged her against him, murmuring words against her wet cheek. “Shhh… It’s over now. You’re safe. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”

Gradually the sobs subsided until they became little sniffs of distress. “I’m sorry, Amroth.”

Sorry for what? Sorry she had done something so stupid? Sorry she didn’t want to marry him? His heart went cold, but he had to know. “What are you sorry for?”

But a whimper came from Drummer, and instead of replying Devoran tried to shake herself free of his arms.

“Drummer! Amroth, is Drummer all right? Did he get stabbed again?”

 He had no option but to set her on her feet. Drummer lay on his side, panting heavily. Amroth could now see blood seeping from a wound on his shoulder. “No, he didn’t…”

“He saved me, Amroth,” she interrupted. “We’ve got to do something.” Devoran flung herself down on her knees beside Drummer. “The wound needs to be washed. It’s got dirt in it.”

Drummer saved her! Amroth caught Erchi’s eye. His brother grinned.

“See to the dog, keep her attention.” Erchi whispered. “I will get rid of this piece of shit.” He jerked his head to the corpse on the road.

Nodding his understanding, Amroth grabbed a waterbottle from his saddlebag and took it over to Devoran. Silent tears were running down her cheeks.  She took the bottle, managing a wan smile of thanks, and poured some water slowly over Drummer’s wound, and then into his mouth. The dog twitched, but nothing more. She sniffed. “He’s badly hurt. He got stabbed, kicked and thrown down the scree slope. He could have awful injuries inside.”

“If he had, I doubt he would have managed the climb back up, or attacked with such force,” Amroth tried to reassure her, although Drummer looked awful. “But I think it best we get him back to the village. His wound will need stitching.”

“Yes, we must.” She went back to tending Drummer, concentrating all her attention on him. Amroth watched her for a moment: she was filthy, her lovely hair matted and dull, she wore peasant clothes, and a livid bruise had started to appear on her cheek.  And whilst she was not concerned with him at the moment, she was obviously expecting him to somehow transport Drummer back to the village. But he loved her and would do anything, whatever she felt about him.  How to achieve it was the problem. Pondering for a moment, he heard horses a way off, the rest of their men must be coming to join them. But Drummer could hardly be put on a saddle. Then another sound: the clip of hooves and the rattle of wheels coming from the other direction. He saw a small cart being driven slowly along the road. That might solve one of his difficulties.

But Erchi interrupted his thoughts. “Amroth.”

He looked over to his brother. Erchi had dragged the body over to the rock, leaving a big stain on the road. He was staring up the hill. Amroth followed his gaze. Three horses were coming down. Caedor was leading one, a body draped over the saddle. The other two were being ridden, a man stumbling on a rope between them.

“Two dead, one alive. We need to know what to do,” Erchi said, glancing at Devoran.

Amroth nodded, and went back to Devoran. “Leave Drummer for a moment, I need to talk to you.” She looked ready to argue, but he pointed down the road. “There’s a cart coming, we can get him to the village. This is important.” He took her hand and helped her up. She was stiff, obviously in some pain herself, but he doubted she would admit to it until Drummer was out of danger.

 “What is important?” But then she saw the men coming down the hill. She shuddered. “Oh, I see.”

“Devoran,” he said as gently as he could. “I need to know if all three attacked you. Can you tell me what happened?”

She shuddered again, but then nodded and spoke quickly, as if not really wanting to remember. “One jumped out at me, but Drummer knocked the knife from his hand. The other picked it up and stabbed him. But that one”, she pointed at the body, “came behind and grabbed Col. I fell off and … it was horrible, they threw Drummer down the hill and that’s when my hood came off and they saw I was a woman.” She dropped her eyes, red stealing up from her neck. “You came just in time.”

Bile rose in his throat. Thank the Valar he had. Amroth put his arms around her shaking shoulders, knowing talking about it would not be easy. “Were they all of the same mind?” he asked her. “None tried to defend you?”

She shook her head, still not looking at him. “The two holding my arms ran away when they heard your horses, the other one wasn’t so quick because he was…” She couldn’t say it, but he had the information he wanted.

“Don’t worry, that’s all I need to know.” Justice had to be fast and fair. Lord Angbor lived a day’s ride away, so it was up to them to dispense it. Amroth gave Devoran a squeeze and pulled her head down on his chest so she couldn’t see. She relaxed into him, and slipped her arms around his waist.  He would have relished it more if he knew her embrace was from more than a wish to be comforted. Holding her close against him, he looked across to Erchi over the top of her head and made a slice across his throat with his finger.

Erchi answered with a cold smile. “The rest of our lot are coming. I suggest you get Devoran and the dog out of here and leave me to clear up.”

Amroth nodded. Thank goodness Ana would be at the inn, at least he knew Devoran would get some proper care.

To be continued.

List of Original Characters in this Chapter.

Devoran- G              Lord Duinhir’s Daughter.

Caedor – G       Soldier in Erchirion’s Company. Trained as scout in Rohan. Married to Ana

Ana -   G                   Junior maid in Dol Amroth. Went to Rohan with Lothíriel.            

  bmit.

Chapter 11

July FA 1

Cirlion – Ered Nimrais. 

The cart travelled slowly.  The farmer, a big taciturn man with a bulbous nose, was on his way to collect a sow he had bought in the village the day before. Although glad the man had arrived at an opportune moment, Amroth rued that he had not been a bit earlier and thus spared Devoran a distressing ordeal.  On the seat next to the farmer was a large wooden club; he looked well capable of using it.

 ‘Can’t say I’m not glad you be cleaning up the roads’ had been his only remark on seeing the two bodies and the one cowed prisoner. But in spite of the lack of words, he waited patiently when they loaded up Drummer, not making much comment on his transport being commandeered to carry a dog.  And Devoran! Any thought Amroth had of an intimate conversation with her disappeared when she insisted on travelling in the cart. She spent the whole journey cradling Drummer’s head.

He had sent two soldiers back to the village to make preparations for their arrival, so it didn’t surprise him that a chattering group clustered outside the inn. Amongst them, Amroth saw Ana and the landlord waiting.  The cart drew up in front of the door and Ana immediately hurried forward, a large blanket in her hands.

“Oh, my lady, your poor face. You come with me, there is someone waiting to tend to you.” Ana reached up and took Devoran’s hand, helping her down. Devoran moved stiffly, obviously in pain, and Ana wrapped the blanket right around her, hiding her from prying eyes.

“I can’t leave Drummer,” Devoran protested, resisting Ana’s efforts to lead her inside. “He needs stitching and…”

“You go with your maid, my lady,” Handor intervened. “Mistress Guleth will put you right, and then see to your dog. It is lucky she was still here.”

“Take him around to the stables,” Handor told the farmer. “And then come and drink a mug of ale until you can have your cart back.”

“Amroth…” Devoran still did not want to leave, her eyes held mute appeal.

He knew what she wanted. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure he is comfortable.”

She flashed him a grateful smile before Ana hastened her through the door.

“That’s right, lord.” Handor said, enjoying organising everything.   “Get him around the back. Mistress Guleth will come out as soon as she’s fixed up the lady. She’s good with animals as well as people.”

Amroth followed the cart round to the rear of the inn. He found a sizable yard running along the length of the building with many stables and outhouses, perhaps a throwback to Gondor’s glorious past when travelling was commonplace. Amroth slid down from his horse gratefully. Still not noon, but already the day felt old.

The farmer pulled the cart into the yard and ambled off for his ale. Amroth handed Aero over to his squire, and the soldiers buzzed around, trying to find space for all the horses, leaving him alone with Drummer. Mistress Guleth? That name tugged at his memory. He hoped the healer could take some of Devoran’s pain away, at least the physical side of it. The other, only time would lessen. He couldn’t imagine how bereft she must be feeling: all her family gone and chased out of her home. Which was why Drummer had to recover, she needed to keep something precious from her old life.

Amroth leant over the side of the cart looking down at Drummer. The dog was quiet and still, but didn’t seem in any distress, breathing evenly. If animals were ill they usually lay silently in a corner until they got better, or else…. gave up.  “You’d better make it, Drummer, or I’ll have no chance with her.” The end of Drummer’s tail thumped on the wood at the sound of Amroth’s voice. A good sign, surely?

The yard cleared as the horses were settled in their stables, but Amroth noticed that there were two left tied up at the far end. Well packed, looking ready to make a journey. One was a big sturdy cob, piebald, with heavily feathered legs, as many bred in the country areas of Gondor. It was the other that grabbed his attention –  a clean-limbed grey mare. Not big, but obviously hailing from Rohan. Now what was a horse like that doing here?

“Mistress Guleth will be out soon, lord.” Handor crossed the yard towards him, a reassuring smile on his face.  “Sounds as if Lady Devoran is not actually injured, except for the nasty bruise on her face, but she is sore and aching. The wife’s filling the tub, and with all the herbs going in it, she’s likely to be feeling a lot better soon. Funny goings on, but no doubt the lady had her reasons.”

Handor paused, waiting for Amroth to elaborate, but as he said nothing, carried on. “One good thing has come out of all this – hopefully folks will be able to travel safely now. Everyone will be real glad you…”

 “Handor, who is Mistress Guleth?” Amroth had something else on his mind.

“Oh,” Handor stopped mid-sentence and happily followed Amroth’s rude change of subject. “She’s our healer. Lives a few valleys along, past the river, but comes here on market days. That’s once a month,” he clarified, “and she usually stays overnight, as it’s a fair distance.”

“Skilled, is she?”

“None better around here, except for her mother. But she doesn’t do much now, leaves it to the young one. Trained in the big City, Mistress Guleth did. Worked throughout the war, and treated all the nobles. Which is how she got that horse.”

“Ah…” Amroth nodded. As he had suspected! “I thought I recognised the breeding.”

Handor dropped his voice, a bit awestruck. “Saw to the King of Rohan himself, and he was so pleased he gave her the horse to help in her work. He must be a generous man, but then you’ll probably know him.”

“I do, and he is,” Amroth agreed. “Mistress Guleth appears to be well thought of everywhere.”

 “A nicer lady you couldn’t wish to meet,” the landlord confirmed.  “It’s sad she lost her husband, but still, she’s got a fine son. That makes up a bit.”

“A son?” Amroth echoed, surprised.

“Never saw his father, of course.” Handor’s face saddened. “Faeldor was killed in that terrible battle. Lots were lost from around here. And, like him, there are many who died without knowing their offspring.”

The sound of a door opening and closing stopped their conversation. Handor swivelled around. “Ah, here is Mistress Guleth now.”

Amroth followed his gaze, full of expectation. He was not disappointed. Walking towards them was the woman who had shared Éomer’s bed in Cormallen.  She looked as pretty as when he had first set eyes on her in the royal tent. Her light-brown hair was plaited around her head, and her skin glowed with health. She wore a grey tabard over a plain blue riding skirt, and soft leather boots. All good quality, but serviceable. In her hand was a large, colourful bag.

Amroth stood up straight and nodded to her. “Mistress Guleth, we meet again.”

Her brow furrowed as she tried to place him. With a glance at Drummer, she put the bag down on the end of the cart.

 “Amrothos of Dol Amroth,” he introduced himself. “We met in Cormallen, when you treated my friend’s shoulder injury.”

“Oh, yes. I remember, lord.” Only a slight staining of her cheeks revealed her embarrassment. Her voice was cool and controlled. “It is good to meet you again.”

“Didn’t I say she treated all the high-ups,” Handor beamed. “Since you’ve met, I’ll be getting back inside. The wife might want a hand.”

“How is Lady Devoran,” Amroth asked, wanting to put her at her ease.

“Worried about her dog, though I promised to treat him without delay.” Then she smiled. “I also promised to tell you, lord, that she would like to talk to you very soon. But that won’t be yet, because I gave her something to help her sleep.”

Amroth frowned. “Is she in much pain?”

 “A little.” Guleth replied.  “She is not badly injured, but is bruised from where she fell from the horse. On top of that she is naturally shocked and exhausted by her ordeal. A few hours’ sleep and the medicine I have given her will make her feel a lot better. And if when she wakes you can tell her the dog is out of danger, she will recover more quickly.” She smiled again. “So I had better take a look at my next patient.”

“Yes, we must waste no further time.” Amroth quickly undid the catches that secured the side of the cart and let the wooden planks down slowly so not to disturb Drummer too much.

Guleth first ran her eyes over Drummer, and then spoke softly to him. He opened an eye and stared balefully at her. “Animals are difficult to treat because they do not know you are trying to help them. He will not like it if I hurt him anymore.”

“Drummer is quite intelligent. I will tell him.”

Guleth showed her scepticism with a flash of her eyes, but Amroth spoke reassuringly to Drummer.  “The lady is going to help you Drummer, let her check your wound.”

Drummer’s tail thumped again and he only started slightly when Guleth gently parted the fur over the puncture wound. She tenderly felt the flesh around it. “I think it was a thin knife and it hit the shoulder blade, so it is not deep.   Some powdered herbs packed in to dry it and stop infection, and a stitch to hold it together, if he will let me, are all that is needed. I will put something on to deaden the skin for a few minutes. I don’t want to get bitten.”

“I will hold his head, but I don’t think he will attempt to bite you.”

Guleth worked quickly and efficiently, relaxing when Drummer showed no signs of objecting, maybe too exhausted and hurt to care.

“Handor said you have a son,” Amroth said conversationally, “are you happy leaving him?”

Guleth looked straight into his eyes, needle in one hand, thread in the other. “It is only when I come to Cirlion that I stay the night. Otherwise I go out for just a couple of days a week. And he is with my brother’s family, so is quite happy.”

“You live with you brother?”

“I have no wish to marry again, my work and my son are enough.”

“And the healing earns you a good living,” Amroth suggested

Guleth shook her head. “I only take a little, and only from those who can afford it. A healing gift cannot be counted in coin. Luckily I have no need. My family own a large vineyard, and our wine is very popular at the new court. The Queen and her ladies prefer it to some of the heavy reds that are made in other parts of Gondor. My brother has put more land into cultivation.”

“Your brother is happy with you travelling the roads on your own?”

“Not on my own.” She smiled, looking down towards the horses. “You have made them safer, but not many would challenge Hirt.”

She was right there – a thickset, powerful looking man, with enormous arms and shoulders, was leaning against the wall waiting for her to finish. “You have a nice horse; I imagine Éomer gave her to you.”

“Yes, he did.” She didn’t look up, but tied the thread and patted Drummer gently on the head. When she put the needle down and started to run her hands over Drummer’s chest, the dog twitched, obviously feeling pain. Guleth stopped, her hand going back to Drummer’s head. “I guess the lady he married was your sister.”

“Lothíriel, yes.”

“Are they happy?” She still didn’t look at him.

“Very.”

A small smile appeared. “I’m glad.”

Amroth deduced that was all she was going to say, because she stood up straight and spoke briskly. “I think the wound will not give him much trouble. The inside of his mouth is still a reasonable colour, so he has not lost much blood, but he has a couple of broken ribs. They are the source of his pain and will take time to heal. I will give you something to put on his food, but if he has to travel he will need to go in a wagon.”

She went to her bag and brought out an oilskin packet, and a little jar. “There is honey and marigold for his wound. And some herbs, valerian mostly, but also mountain flowers I have found to be potent. Put a pinch on his food for the next week. It will help with the pain, and keep him quiet.”

 Amroth took them and tucked them inside his tunic. “Thank you. Lady Devoran will be grateful. I must pay you.”

Guleth shook her head. “There is no need. I have been glad to assist, and will feel happier travelling the roads.”

“Are you sure?”

“If you wish, leave something with the landlord, there are often those that need aid. He is a good man.”

“I will do that,” Amroth confirmed.

Guleth picked up her bag. “Now I must go. I wish to get home by supper time.”

Amroth inclined his head. “It has been a pleasure meeting you again, Mistress Guleth.”

She nodded and turned to go.

“Shall I remember you to Éomer, when I see him?” Amroth asked as she moved away.

Guleth stopped and looked back, her eyes unfathomable. “Some memories, lord, are best left undisturbed.” Then she walked quickly towards her horse. The man, Hirt, took the bag from her and tied it behind the saddle. He helped her mount and then took hold of the cob’s reins. Amroth saw a large club hanging from his pommel. He hoped the roads were now clear and it wouldn’t be needed.

They moved off just as Erchi and the rest of the soldiers arrived, meeting in the entrance to the yard. There was a bit of a commotion for a moment, but the soldiers moved aside and Guleth and Hirt disappeared from view. Erchi rode right up to the cart and slid wearily down from his horse, handing the reins over to a waiting soldier.

“Who was that?” He jerked his head in the direction of the gate.

“The local healer. She has made Devoran more comfortable and stitched Drummer’s wound.” Amroth felt disinclined to say any more. It was obvious Guleth was respected around here, and one thoughtless word from Erchi could destroy her reputation. She didn’t deserve that.

But Erchi just nodded, he clearly hadn’t recognised her. “I need to get cleaned up.”

“What did you do?”

“Strung them up.  All three. Not right by the road, didn’t want to upset the travellers, but near enough to give warning to others who might try the same thing.”

“Good thinking. I don’t see we had any alternative but to dispose of them.” Amroth examined his grimy hands, a product of days of travelling. “I need to wash up, too, but I have to get Drummer settled somewhere so the farmer can have his cart back.”

Erchi slapped him on the back. “Well, I leave you to it. I’ve done my bit.”

---

Amroth stretched, feeling better after a meal, a scrub and a change of clothes. The soldiers were still partaking of the landlord’s good ale in the bar. They deserved it, and any other time he would have joined them, but the quiet of the snug suited his mood. Erchi had gone off to lie down, no doubt already snoring. Amroth wished he could do the same – it had been an arduous few days – but he had too much on his mind. Devoran evidently wanted to talk to him, but what did she want to say?

He hoped she would not mind him leaving Drummer with his squire keeping watch. Justified, he thought, after the dog had managed a small meal – some mutton filched from Handor – and settled down to sleep in the tack room. Whatever Guleth had prescribed to put on the dog’s food had worked, and Drummer appeared much more comfortable. Perhaps she had given Devoran the same stuff, as Ana said she was still sleeping deeply.

He wanted her to get some rest, but conversely begrudged every moment she stayed asleep while he paced about waiting to talk to her. With a resigned sigh, Amroth sat down again, thinking that maybe he should doze himself when he had the opportunity, and it would pass the time. No chance! Thoughts charged around his head and after a few minutes he stood up, too tense to rest in spite of the sultry afternoon. Maybe he should check on Drummer? But at that moment there was a knock on the door.

“Oh, there you are, lord. Lady Devoran would like to talk to you.”

At last! Amroth tried not to show his eagerness. After all, he might be disappointed.

“But don’t keep her long, she needs rest.”

Ana had got all officious suddenly, her new role perhaps. “Where is she, Ana?”

 “Waiting in the private parlour, lord.”

“So she’s up and dressed?” That must mean she was feeling better.

Ana frowned. “I tried to make her stay in bed, but she insists she’s fine. Although she’s covered in bruises and still in a bit of pain. But Mistress Guleth left some medicine, and some salve for her sores.”

Amroth was already stepping past Ana and heading out of the door. “I’ll talk to her and try and persuade her to lie down again,” he flung over his shoulder. But not before he had found out a few things! Whatever she had to say, he couldn’t wait another moment to hear it. A few steps later he slowed his pace. It would be stupid to overwhelm her, after all she had been through. He must go careful. Amroth tapped softly on the door of the small parlour Handor kept for ladies, but hearing no response, pushed it open.

A table stood between them, which stopped him doing anything other than stare at her. Devoran stood by the window, gazing out onto the village square. The sun gleamed on her hair, turning it a wonderful fiery red. She turned slowly as he entered, greeting him with a hesitant smile. But those lovely honey eyes were troubled and guarded.

“Drummer is recovering. He has eaten some food and his tail is wagging.” Better get that in right away.

Her smile widened slightly. “Thank you. I am sorry to have put you to all this trouble.”

It sounded as though she were speaking to a stranger, was that what she thought of him now? He let out a breath, still staring at her, for once in his life unsure what to say.

Devoran bit her lip, dropping her eyes from the intenseness of his scrutiny. “I suppose you are going to tell me what a fool I have been.”

The bruise was livid on her cheek, and the flesh he could see on her arms covered in splodges of some brown ointment. Wearing a simple green linen dress with a shawl around her shoulders, presumably to try and cover the mess on her arms as the room was warm, she looked vulnerable and defenceless. Amroth wanted to wrap his arms around her and take all the hurt away – nothing had changed in that from the first moment he had met her. Sensitive to her distress, he let his words come out quietly.

“I understand why you ran from Alhael, Devoran. But why did you not come to Dol Amroth? Why attempt to get to Minas Tirith on your own? Did you not trust me to help you?”

Her chin slid down to her chest, and she swallowed, hands playing nervously with the folds of her skirt. “I am sorry.”

 “Sorry?” Lead pooled in his stomach.   “You don’t want to marry me?”

Her head flew up, eyes wide with denial. “No! I never said that. But Alhael told me that your father would not allow it. He said I wouldn’t be welcome because I had nothing to bring.”

“I should have killed him,” Amroth spat through his teeth. He flashed his eyes closed, deliberately calming himself. Damn! He couldn’t talk to her with a table between them. Amroth pushed around the table past a heavy chair, knocking his thigh painfully. Rooted to her spot, she waited for him to reach her, following every movement with her eyes.  By the time he got there, her bosom was rising and falling rapidly, her face flushed with colour. He put one hand on her shoulder, the other he used to lift her chin, wanting to see her thoughts clearly, wanting to be sure. “Devoran, when I came and visited you before, I asked you to marry me. Did you really think I did that without my father’s blessing?”

“You never said, and Alhael...”

“Damn Alhael! What do you think I am doing here now?”

“I know what,” she flung back, turning her head away. “Ana told me.”

Of course. She would be fully informed of his plans to take her to Rohan.  But what did she think?  He waited.

“I am trying to explain why I was unsure,” she carried on, still looking away from him. “I didn’t feel I could arrive in Dol Amroth unannounced, especially after the things Alhael said. He made me doubt.”

Amroth ground his teeth, but said nothing, feeling it better to let her have her say.

“If Alhael hadn’t threatened Drummer I would have written to you and stayed at home. But I had to leave, so decided to go to Minas Tirith and write to you from there.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Then you could choose whether to come for me or not.” Devoran turned, looking out of the window, a hand wiped across her eyes.

He rubbed one hand over her back, trying to reassure. “Devoran, look at me.” Amroth put his hands on her shoulders and turned her round.

 “Do you doubt me now?”  He wanted to search her face for the answer.

But she couldn’t meet his gaze, only shaking her head silently and sniffing, her eyes wet with tears. “If I had been sure I wouldn’t have had to make that awful journey, Drummer wouldn’t be hurt and…”

Amroth shut her off by pulling her into his arms, only to curse himself when she winced as he crushed her against him. But she held on when he tried to pull back, burying her head in his chest. Her small sobs cut right to his heart. He should have written, should have returned earlier and saved her from a nightmarish time.

He smoothed his hand over her soft hair, and put his lips close to her ear. “Don’t cry. I am asking you now, with my father’s full permission.” The sobs slowed, and her body tensed. He waited until he knew he had her complete attention and she had stopped crying. “Please Devoran, will you marry me? I have been mad with worry these last few days, I love you so much.”

          Devoran sniffed, and used a corner of the shawl to wipe her eyes. She looked up at him, lips trembling.  “I have nothing, I bring nothing.”

         “Devoran, listen to me – I want nothing but you. All that concerns me is whether you wish to marry me as much as I wish to marry you.”

          “I want to marry you, Amroth, of course I do.” She finally lifted her lashes, looking him straight in the eye. “I have loved you from the very beginning…”

         His heart started beating again. “That is all that matters.” Amroth held her gaze and slid one of his hands up her back under her glorious hair right to the nape of her neck. Her skin felt so soft and smooth. The other he moved to her cheek, his fingertips gently skimming over the ugly bruise until it reached her chin. He trailed his thumb along her lower lip tilting her face up towards him so that he could brush his lips across hers. Only gently, like an initial foray into the unknown. Deliciously, his venture induced a tremor through her whole body. A hot rush rocked him as she sagged against him, her soft curves pressing against his chest.  Amroth groaned, and covered her mouth with his. But determined to master himself, he kissed her slowly, merely teasing at her lips, desperate to savour every sweet moment…

         Suddenly she pulled herself away, looking up at him wide eyed and horrified. What had he done?

          “Amroth, the tunnel! I do want to marry you, but please don’t make me ride through that fearsome tunnel.” A shudder ran through her.  “It will be full of spiders.”

Amroth pulled her back against him and started laughing, trying to hold in his mirth and his happiness. He laughed silently, lips buried in her hair, before he controlled himself and got the words out. “We don’t have to go Rohan now. All that is past. We will get married in the Great Hall at Dol Amroth. It will be decked with flowers and you will be the most beautiful…”

“Amroth…I can’t. I lost all my good dresses and …”

“Devoran…shush. None of that matters. We will sort it all.”

---

To be continued.

A/N  Well, they are together. I suppose I could leave it there, but I imagine many of you would like to know how Devoran gets on in Dol Amroth, and what she and Lothíriel have to talk about when they meet at the wedding.

The final few chapters will be along in a few weeks time – my beta decided to go on holiday.

Have a lovely time, Lia.

Original Characters in this chapter.

Guleth -    A young woman form Lamedon. Assisted in the healing houses during the war. Treated Éomer and ended up in his bed. For more of her story read Tide of Destiny – Chapters 21/22/23

Faeldor -     Guleth’s husband. Died on the Pelennor.

Handor -      Landlord of The Tickled Trout in Cirlion, Lamedon.

Ana -             A Dol Amroth maid.

Chapter 12

Dol Amroth.

Devoran saw the gulls first. Way above the city they made lazy circles, effortlessly, spiralling higher and higher, until, reaching some unidentified limit, they tipped their wings and tumbled down out of sight.  Next the flag appeared against the afternoon haze, as yet only a dark smudge with its devices hidden.  But if she needed to be reminded of the renowned Swan-ship that graced it, she only had to turn her eyes to the man riding next to her – Amroth had one embroidered on his tunic. 

Blue and silver had fluttered over the imposing ramparts of Dol Amroth for more than a thousand years; she could even remember the names of some of the princes. But the well-meaning history lessons Amroth had regaled her with during the last week, intended to pass the time as well to give her an insight into her future home, had increased rather than eased her fears. During the slow journey, as he had told her all he could about his family and their way of doing things, so she would not feel overwhelmed, the reality of the total change to her life had gradually stolen over her. Her dreams had been of marrying Amroth, the man. The lovely laughing boy she had fallen for outside the city gates all those months ago. But by doing so she would be the wife of a prince, and part of an ancient lineage. Made more terrifying by the fact that she would be arriving travel-worn and in borrowed clothes. Somehow she had to get through her first proper meeting with Prince Imrahil wearing a shirt donated by Haldor’s daughter and a pair of breeches that had belonged to his son. Her own riding clothes, blood splattered and torn, were only fit for the ragbag.

“Don’t be nervous.  Everyone is looking forward to you arriving and you will soon feel at home.” Amroth broke into her reverie. She glanced up and he smiled reassuringly.

Did her nerves show so much? Devoran made an effort to smile back, in spite of the butterflies in her stomach. “Amroth, could we stop somewhere. Perhaps I should get changed into one of my dresses and ride on the wagon.”  Not that the dresses were at all smart, only being her everyday wear, but one was reasonably clean. She looked down at her soiled breeches, horse riding tended to make one grubby. And she would not feel comfortable meeting Prince Imrahil in trousers. “I have been wearing these clothes for days.”

Amroth cocked his head to one side, critically studying her. “And very nice they look too; I have been admiring them for days.” His eyes twinkled wickedly. “Or perhaps I have been admiring the one who’s wearing them.”

The familiar heat flushed her cheeks. Irritated that she had no control over her response to him, and the slightest tease provoked a blush, Devoran wiped a hand across her hot face and made no answer. He looked so elegant and handsome, didn’t he realise how she felt …

“Devoran, stop worrying. Erchi will have explained everything. Besides, when I dispatched a soldier last night with a message to say what time we would be arriving, I also suggested that we enter by the side door and you be allowed to go straight to your chamber to bathe and rest. I will introduce you to the family before the evening meal.”

Oh! He had thought! “Does that include your father?”

Amroth laughed, amused by her worries. “I hope so. Although he would probably prefer to meet you as you are. It would keep with our new tradition.”

“What tradition? Don’t tell me there is another. My head is spinning with them.”

“Sorry, have I plagued you with custom and ritual. But you will like this one, I have just thought of it.”

“Go on then, tell me.” She couldn’t resist him when he grinned at her. She loved the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when something amused him.

“Well, Elphir …” Amroth stopped, his face clouding suddenly.

“What is it?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not appropriate. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Why isn’t it appropriate? You were grinning about it just now.”

“Devoran, I don’t want to cause you upset. You have been so strong over what happened in the mountains, I had forgotten for a moment what a fearful time you had…”

Strong! She wouldn’t call herself strong. Numbed was a better word. Together with the horror of losing all her family, the assault on her had been pushed into a corner of her mind she resisted visiting. And if she did close her eyes and glimpse that hideous pock-marked face looming over her, she had learnt to hurl it aside and replace it with a vision of Amroth’s fine sculpted features. But it was no laughing boy who had ruthlessly nailed her assailant to the ground, or who had pronounced a death sentence. Did it bother her? No, far from it. She felt safe.

“Ana says that you are sleeping well.”

Still with her own thoughts, his remark made her jump. Devoran realised that Amroth was searching her face for any kind of torment. Had they all been expecting her to crumble into a pitiful heap? She wouldn’t. The all-devouring maw of war had taken her family, as it had many others, but she had made herself a vow – she intended to survive. But it came as no surprise to her that Ana had reported back, not being at all fooled by the excuse of crowded rest-houses to explain the maid’s presence in her room every night, whilst her husband shared with the men. Most of the landlords would have pushed their other guests out to the stables to accommodate a Prince of Dol Amroth and his party. So very different from when she had travelled the road with Alhael.

 “I think anyone would sleep well after the long days in the saddle. But you are right:  now Drummer is making such good progress, my dreams are untroubled. You came in time, Amroth. I hang on to that thought. Dwelling on what would have happened otherwise will only cause a canker to grow in my mind. I don’t want that. I will not follow my mother into despair.” Seeing the concern still on his face, Devoran quirked her lips, “Now had I been expected to ride through that tunnel, I might have had trouble sleeping.”

Amroth stared at her for a moment. But she gave him a big smile, which banished his serious look and encouraged a burst of soft laughter.

She laughed with him. “Well, are you going to tell me this new tradition that amused you so?”

He grinned, and edged Aero a little closer to Lady. “I was going to make some sort of joke about the Princes of Dol Amroth arriving in the nick of time, sword in hand.  I think I told you that Elphir rescued Meren from corsair raiders.”

“You did, when we were on the island.” Yes, she could see the similarity.

“Ah, but did I also say that she arrived at the palace looking less than perfectly groomed.  And my father got quite a shock.”

“Because she looked a mess?” Fancy telling her that. She would have to put a dress on.

“More that Elphir announced he was marrying her in front of a gawking crowd.”

“Really! Your father had no idea before?”

“No, none.”

“Was he mad?”

“You should have seen his face. But he covered it well. And of course Meren is perfect for Elphir.” Amroth raised a wry brow. “Although she brought nothing other than herself.”

“I see. So your father will have to rely on Erchi to make a good match.”

Amroth burst out laughing, sucking in air as he tried to control his mirth. “I think he will wait a long time for that. Erchi will probably turn up with a tavern wench on his arm.”

Yes, she had not missed him eying Handor’s daughter. “Your father must be grateful that your sister married so well.”

“Devoran,” the serious look came back. “Put aside any lingering uncertainties that your detestable cousin left behind. My father would prefer his children to be happy. The dark years taught us all to value the joy of life. I am not saying a tavern wench would be welcomed, but Belfalas does very well. Its prosperity does not depend on the scions of its ruling family sacrificing themselves to political or monetary alliances.  And after all, my father’s relationship with Calaerdis is hardly conventional. But if you still doubt, I will tell you that you come from a brave and noble line, and that is more important to my family than all the goods and chattels you could ever bring.”

Devoran said nothing for a moment; she could feel his eyes on her. “In that case,” she said at last, deciding to let her fears go, “I will ride through the gates with my head held high, and ignore the looks we are bound to get from every passing citizen wondering who it is their prince has brought home.”

Amroth chuckled at that. “They won’t be wondering, all will know exactly. Every one of Erchi’s soldiers will have a relative they will have told. Nothing is secret in Dol Amroth.”

Devoran closed her eyes. What was the use of sneaking into the palace by the side door if she had to run the gauntlet of a line of inquisitive onlookers?

“Devoran, are you still hot?”

Hot? Her eyes flew open at the strange change of subject. “No, not really, the wind has freshened. It’s much pleasanter the nearer we get to the sea.”

“There is usually an onshore breeze in the afternoon along the coast,” he agreed. “And since it is getting cooler, I have an idea that will make you much less anxious. We will stop for a moment.” Amroth put up his hand. The soldiers behind him turned their horses and moved out of the way so the wagon could come to a halt gradually. Amroth beckoned to his squire, calling the lad forward to give him some instructions. The change of pace, and the sound of voices, woke Drummer; he immediately got up from where he had been dozing on a blanket in the back of the open wagon, looking around to see what was going on.

“You stay there, Drummer,” Devoran called to him. He had walked quite a way today and she was worried he would overdo it. The first few days his broken ribs had caused him a lot of pain, but he seemed to gain strength hourly. Drummer wagged his tail at the sound of her voice, but made no move to get down. Devoran thought he liked being able to view the surrounding countryside from his high perch. She waited, wondering what Amroth had in mind. His squire had gone off to delve into a bag on one of the pack animals.

Devoran stared at the rich blue velvet cloak Amroth held out to her. “It will cover all of you. And bearable, I think, now the temperature has dropped a bit.”

“Oh, what a good idea. You will feel much better wearing that, my lady, with everyone looking at you.”

Devoran groaned. So Ana thought many eyes would be on her. They should have arrived after dark.

Ana was already dismounting. “Why don’t I brush your hair out, my lady? It will look more attractive than that braid.”

Devoran had to admit she felt better with her hair tied loosely at the nape of her neck.  It was so thick and unruly, it never stayed neatly in a plait anyway, tendrils escaping however tightly it was wound. And Ana took such trouble, arranging the cloak to fall elegantly over Lady’s back, showing off the silver swan-ship.

“Happier?” Amroth asked when Ana had finished.

Devoran nodded, fingering the soft material. “It’s your dress one.”

“I thought we would be getting married in Edoras, which is why I brought it.”

Their wedding! That unleashed another worry: she would need a wedding dress. But no time to think about that now because Amroth called for everyone to get back on their horses. She knew he wanted to get home.

---

The cacophony of barking and growling alerted Imrahil to their arrival. He moved quickly to the window that overlooked the gate, in time to see the tops of two heads. One black, one…. bright chestnut. He must remember not to mention ginger.

Ah, there was the source of the upset – a stranger had entered well defended territory. A large black and brown dog sat on a wagon, his head in the air, lip curling at the few local mongrels still snapping at the wheels. The guards chased them back out of the gate and Imrahil chuckled at the dog’s proud demeanour. I’m going into the palace and you’re not – was written all over him.  And it looked as though the animal had recovered. Good news all round, from what Erchi had told him.

Imrahil turned back from the window. “I am not happy about letting Lady Devoran slip in by the side door unannounced.  I feel I should be there to greet her properly.”

Calaerdis put her book down and got up. She walked over to him, slid her arms around his waist and dropped her head on his chest. Imrahil sighed and inhaled her spicy perfume, enjoying the contact. He murmured into her hair, “Don’t you agree?”

“Normally, yes. And I know you want to show how welcome she is here. But I think it will be better if she has time to compose herself and clean up after the long journey. She will understandably be a little nervous of meeting you.”

Imrahil frowned. “I am not an ogre.”

She looked up, her eyes sparking amusement. “No, but you are the Lord of Dol Amroth, and most would prefer to be looking their best when they meet you.”

“Hmm…perhaps. But she will soon find out I am as normal as everyone else.”

“I am sure she will after living here for a few months.” Calaerdis chuckled, her laugh rich and throaty. “Have you found a date for the wedding, yet? It is one of the first things Amroth will want to know.”

“Do you think so?” Reluctantly, Imrahil eased her away from him and went over to his desk. He started leafing through the papers littered on it. “I had the tidal predictions here somewhere.”

After a few frustrating minutes, a slim arm reached across. “Is this them?” Calaerdis plucked the sheet of calculations from beneath a report on the progress of the new warehouse being built on the quay.

“Yes. Thank you.” Imrahil flashed her a wry smile and ran his eyes down the figures. “Now, I marked a provisional date. Let me see. Ah, yes, the fifteenth of October. It’s not perfect, but they will have time to get to the island.”

“Is that the only suitable date?”

“No, but I don’t want it later in the month because Éomer and Lothíriel will wish to get back before the bad weather. That’s assuming they can come. And not much earlier than that because I feel Lady Devoran will want some time to recover from her grief.”

 “And the attack on her,” Calaerdis added. “We don’t know how it has affected her.”

“True. Although Erchirion thinks she has coped remarkably well.”

“Do you think…” but Calaerdis’ words were cut short as there was a brief knock on the door before it flew open.

Imrahil had only seen that particular mixture of joy and relief on his son’s face once before – when they had found Lothíriel in the wilds after she’d been missing for a week. It warmed his heart to see it again now. “Welcome back, Amroth.  A good journey?”

“Hot and slow, but better than rain, I suppose.” Amroth bowed to his father and smiled a greeting to Calaerdis.

 “And is Lady Devoran well?” Imrahil asked.

“Tired and saddle-sore. But remarkably buoyant. Her main concern seems to be her lack of clothes.”

Calaerdis nodded. “I can understand that. From what we have heard, Amroth, she has lost virtually everything. Her home included. She will be feeling extremely vulnerable, even if she is hiding it.”

“I know,” Amroth agreed. “And she does veil her concerns. I think we ought to get married soon; it will give her a better sense of belonging here.”

“That might be true, Amroth, but you must not rush her.” Imrahil felt he might need to curb Amroth’s enthusiasm. “She will need time to grieve properly. However, I did give the date some thought as messages will need to be sent to Edoras in plenty of time.” He picked up the tidal predictions and determined the date he had chosen. “October the fifteenth if you think that is not too soon for her. Otherwise it will need to be the spring.”

“The spring!”

Amroth’s look of horror got Imrahil chuckling. His son’s unusual, and entirely voluntary, celibacy since meeting his lady had not gone unnoticed, and spending the last week or more in such close proximity would be starting to tell. “I agree it would be better in the autumn, Amroth. But you need to get Lady Devoran’s agreement.”

“It is going to be strange for her until we are married. More than a guest, but not really part of the family. The sooner we wed, the sooner she can settle.”

“Well, if she agrees we will decide on the fifteenth. I will also need to write to Aragorn in good time. With Duinhir not six months dead, it will have to be a family wedding, but I am sure he will want to be here in an informal capacity.”

Amroth wrinkled his nose. “Informal for him just means half of Gondor’s Royal Guard, poor man.”

“True,” Imrahil agreed. “Oh, by the way, I have already sent an initial letter about Lady Devoran’s inheritance.”

“You have, Father? You think he can overturn it?” Amroth grimaced. “I would love to see that crud Alhael thrown out.”

“Except for Belfalas, and now Ithilien, all land is only held by its lords in trust to the crown. Whatever gift ceded long ago can, I imagine, be rescinded. If Aragorn wills it, then I’m sure the clever scribes and archivists in the White City will find a way to dislodge Alhael within the law. But I imagine she will have to petition the king in person at court and recount the cousin’s actions towards her. ”

“That will be better after we are married when I have the right to support her,” Amroth mused.” Do you think there is a good chance?”

“A fair one.”

“Good! He deserves to spend the rest of his life shovelling dung.”

“Tell me, Amroth.” Imrahil looked straight into his eyes. “Erchi gave me a full account, why didn’t you run your sword through the sod?”

Amroth pursed his lips, his brow furrowing. “Killing in a battle is one thing, but,” he shrugged … “a defenceless man grovelling at my feet … I had time to think. I prefer your way. It was different with the felons, they actually attacked her.”

Imrahil nodded. “I am glad you saw it that way. Let us hope he gets his retribution. And I am looking forward to meeting Lady Devoran tonight.”

“Hisael is caring for her. So she is in good hands.” Amroth stretched, and yawned. “I am going to get cleaned up.” He inclined his head. “I will see you later, Father, Calaerdis.” He turned and put his hand on the door handle to go.

“Amroth.” Imrahil called him back. “It concerns me slightly that Lady Devoran had been so staunch up to now. I feel she might have been keeping in her grief, and the anguish of the attack. Plus, she will be feeling nervous about her reception here and girding herself for that. Sometimes it is easier to hold on when things are tough, than when the ordeal is over. You may find, Amroth, that once she has met everybody and feels safe, she will let go. Be prepared for that.”

Amroth nodded. “I will be alert to it.”

---

Devoran swished the water with her toes. Warm and fragrant, it took away all her aches.  The third time she had bathed in this large tub, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined the room would one day be hers. She listened to Hisael going through the wardrobe. Princess Lothiriel’s wardrobe. Could she really wear her clothes?

“I’ve found just the very thing for tonight, Lady Devoran.” Hisael popped her head around the screen. “There are a couple of silks that have never been worn. Princess Lothíriel wasn’t keen on the delicate ones, but they will suit you. One is a lovely deep bronze with long sleeves that will cover the remains of those bites. It could have been made for you, how lucky you are of similar size.”

That would be good; the blemishes were fading, but still showed. “Are you sure I can wear it, Hisael?”

“Of course you can, clothes are always passed down. You won’t be able to wear the blue and silver until you are wed, but …”

“Oh!” Devoran interrupted. “I arrived in Prince Amrothos’ cloak. Should I not have done that?”

Hisael chuckled. “That was a special circumstance, nobody is going to mind.”

But someone would have noticed. Had she made an error? No, Amroth had thought it was appropriate.

“Don’t look so worried, my lady. I was born in the Palace; I know all its ways. I will not let you make a mistake.”

“Thank you, Hisael. You are very kind. And so was Ana, especially as she had only just got married.  It was all such a rush when we got here. I didn’t have time to thank her properly.”

“You will get the chance, I’m sure.” Hisael paused, her breath catching. “I am glad you got on.”

Devoran got up, took the drying cloth Hisael handed her, and stepped out of the bath. Something in the maid’s voice had brought back an odd conversation she’d had with Ana at the wedding.

“Hisael, Ana seems to think that I influenced her decision to marry Caedor in some way. But I know not how. She mentioned it when I was here before, and made a reference on the journey home.”

Hisael handed her a robe, her eyes shielded.

Devoran slipped her arms in; how soft and rich it was. She waited for Hisael to say something, but the maid remained silent. “Whatever it is, Hisael, I would like to know.” Hisael sighed. Devoran kept her eyes on her, and she nodded, looking to have come to a decision.

 “Ana is an orphan. Her father was one of Prince Amrothos’ soldiers. During that great battle he went to the Prince’s aid when he was injured, and then was killed fighting next to him. When Prince Amrothos came home he was very kind to Ana. Please be assured, my lady, he has never been more than kind, but she was young and impressionable. He taught her to ride so that she could accompany Princess Lothíriel to Edoras and also let her borrow a horse to visit her relatives along the coast.” Hisael sighed. “Ana became friendly with Caedor when they went to Rohan, but I do not think that she could get the Prince off her mind. When he met you at the wedding and it was obvious to us all how he felt about you, she realised that she was being silly. Now I am sure she is very happy. Her husband is a good man with prospects.”

That explained it! Poor Ana. But she and Caedor had seemed very happy. Devoran smiled. “Thank you, I am glad that you told me. It is understandable, the Prince is very kind. But Hisael, what do you mean about you all realising what he felt about me at the wedding?”

Hisael chuckled. “Lady Devoran, the Palace is like one big family, not much is private. First of all, one of the footmen told us that he spent the whole evening with you. Then the next day you went out in his boat. My brother was on the gate when you came back, he said that you were both holding on to master Alphros and giving him swings. The three of you were soaking wet and laughing. Then, of course, there was your bath.”

“My bath?” said Devoran, totally confounded.

“Yes, you can imagine how busy we were, with the King and Queen, and all those lords and ladies calling for hot water. But he came and said that you were the most important and if necessary he would carry it himself.”

Devoran did not quite know what to say, so said nothing. Hisael didn’t notice anyway, chattering on as she pulled out a chair.

“When he said you needed a bath the next night as he was introducing you to the King, well, I just had to come and look.”

Devoran sat down where Hisael directed her to have her hair dried. She rather felt that since she had entered through the Palace gates and had been delivered into the maid’s care, everything had been taken out of her hands anyway. In some ways it was quite a relief. Hisael picked up a comb and carried on.

“Nobody was surprised when he took off to visit you. Then we were all so sad, but you did the right thing.”

Devoran started at that, and the comb jagged painfully. “I did the right thing?”

“Yes, my nephew is one of his soldiers, he went with him. He told us about your poor father. It would not have worked, you would always have regretted it if you had left him alone. Prince Amrothos has not been himself all summer, but these things often resolve. I am sorry that you have lost your father, Lady Devoran, and had such an awful time, but I hope you being happy will help to make up for it.”

“Thank you, Hisael, I am sure that I shall be very happy,” Devoran replied, trying not to show the shock of having her life on public view.

“Perhaps you’d like to have a little rest whilst you hair dries, my lady. There is plenty of time before dinner.”

“Yes, I would.” Devoran stood up, looking at the big bed. Such a lovely room, with a wonderful view out to the islands. She smiled to herself. From a day on the island she had ended up here. Then she caught sight of the open wardrobe. All those clothes! “Did Princess Lothíriel take anything with her to Rohan?”

Hisael laughed. “Quite a bit. A lot of these were her mother’s. Ceremonial outfits, mostly. They are too big for Princess Meren, so you will be able to wear them when you are a princess.”

“A princess?” Devoran exclaimed open mouthed.

“Yes. Surely you realised?”

She nodded. She had realised that, but had pushed it aside with all the others things that crowded her mind.

“Now your children, they will not be titled. It is only Prince Elphir’s who will be princes and princesses. Yours will be just lords and ladies.”

“I am sure they will be very happy with that,” Devoran answered, feeling slightly stunned.  She sat down on the bed, hoping that if she closed her eyes, Hisael would stop. Soon she had to be dressed and ready to meet Amroth’s family, and needed to compose herself.

It seemed only moments before Hisael was shaking her awake. Then the dress – so beautiful she could hardly believe it. And her hair – it hadn’t shone like this since Hisael had done it before. The maid had even covered the last vestiges of the bruise on her face. However difficult she might find the evening ahead, she had the comfort she looked her best. Amroth must have thought so to, judging by his reaction when he came to escort her. His mouth opened, and he strode across the room arms outstretched.

“No, my lord! You must not touch.” Hisael shrieked, looking horrified, but then her lips twitched.  “At least not until after supper or you will spoil all my good work.”

Amroth grinned and quickly put his hands behind his back, portraying innocence. “Hisael you should not make her look so lovely.”

As soon as they were outside the door, he tucked her arm in his and put his lips next to her ear, warm breath tingled on her cheek. “Devoran, I know that you are going to find everything very strange and I want you to promise me that if you have any problems, if you are unhappy, then you will tell me.”

She nodded and without warning Amroth pulled her into one of the embrasures that were spaced along the wide passage. It was an alcove with a seat where one could look out to sea. Carefully, he gathered her up in his arms, “I do not wish for you to go galloping off somewhere else.”

Lips lightly brushed across hers, setting her whole body shivering. Devoran sighed, snuggling against him as her worries disappeared. “Amroth, I am not going anywhere. I rather like it just where I am.”

“I hoped you would,” he whispered, nuzzling into her hair. “But unfortunately we must hurry; my father is impatient to meet you.” Amroth released her from his embrace and took hold of her hand, curling his strong fingers around hers. “Come on.”

But Devoran stayed where she was, not following him, her arm outstretched. “Amroth, what has happened to Drummer? Will I see him? Is he allowed in the palace?”

Amroth took a step backwards. Dropping his head, he kissed her right on her nose. “Drummer is fine. I have installed him in the room that houses my armour and weapons, which has given him superior status in the canine hierarchy around here. But,” he warned, “I draw the line at my bed – one paw and he’s out in the stable.” Grinning, he slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a reassuring hug. “He will be fine tonight and you will see him in the morning.”

“Oh, thank you.” Relieved, she let him lead her quickly along the passage and down the stairs. They stopped outside a pair of ornately carved double doors. A guard wearing blue and silver stood outside.

“Do not worry: I am not going to leave your side.” Amroth held her arm firmly. She was grateful: her legs felt like jelly. The guard opened the door and before she could prevaricate Amroth led her through into the ante-room.

Devoran had no time to take in any of the other occupants, because immediately Prince Imrahil advanced towards them and her vista was taken up by his upright figure, swathed in dark blue.  She had of course met him briefly at the wedding – standing in line with a hundred other guests — and had thought him imposing. That impression had accounted for some of her nerves, but now she could only see kindness in his dark eyes.

The rest of the introductions passed by in a whirl, but already her racing heart had slowed. She could not doubt the genuine welcome she received. Alphros especially made no attempt to hide his pleasure at having her back.

He tugged at her arm when she was talking to his mother. “Will you sit next to me at dinner?”

“Alphros,” Meren admonished, “Devoran will not want to listen to your chatter on her first night here.”

He looked so crestfallen that Devoran weakened. “I am happy to listen to your chatter, Alphros, but I won’t have you sitting next to me unless you turn out your pockets first. I am taking no chances with creepy-crawly things.”

Laughter erupted round the room. Elphir ruffled his son’s black hair, reasonably tidy for once. “You behave yourself, young man; we don’t want to frighten Devoran away. I can’t imagine that Amroth would be able to find anyone else to have him.” 

“I don’t doubt you’re right,” Erchi agreed.  “And Devoran led him a fine dance. She kept running away from him. I’ve never seen my little brother in such a state.”

Amroth couldn’t argue with that, laughing he winked at her. Devoran’s cheeks went pink, and Meren touched her on the arm, very much amused. “You know, Devoran, if you are going to marry Amroth, it would be as well to learn not to blush.”

Devoran put her hand to her hot cheeks. But his father intervened, taking her arm and leading her aside for a moment.  In spite of Devoran’s nerves Amroth knew his father would put her at her ease. She was doing so well and it had to be difficult.

“Talking of your wedding, my dear,” Imrahil smiled kindly at her, “I have discussed a date with Amroth, but don’t let him bully you. It will not take place until you are ready.”

Devoran glanced across to him. Amroth moved closer; twining his fingers in hers, he lowered his voice.  “We will talk about it tomorrow. When you have rested properly and feel more at home.”

She nodded, looking a little relieved.

“Right,” Imrahil announced. “I think we will eat. And Alphros, any mischief and you will have me to deal with.”

His grandfather’s threat worked, because Alphros behaved impeccably, only plaguing Devoran with questions, mostly on the possibility of bears coming to the coast for the winter. Amroth watched her visibly relax as she chattered with the little boy, immersing herself in the close family life they shared. As the meal came to an end Alphros was sent off to bed. Amroth knew Devoran would be tired, but he wanted a few minutes alone with her. And he just had to tease; he loved to see her colour rise.

“Devoran, now that you are completely sure of my intentions will you come for a walk with me before you retire, or do I have to call for Hisael, my esquire and a whole Company of men?”

“If I were you, Devoran,” Elphir said in his dry way, “I would not even consider going at all.”

But she did, of course. Amroth led her across the courtyard and up to the top of the wall. The breeze had dropped, the evening was balmy and still. The tang of the sea mixed with the heady scent of the moonflowers, their trumpet blooms glowing bright white in the fading light. With her arm tucked in his, he could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the delicate silk dress, and relished the closeness. He had her home; he had her safe.

Past the lookout tower, they reached an unlit seat.  Amroth guided her into the niche. “It is just out of sight of the guards.” Immediately he felt her tense, but squashing his amusement, he pulled her down by his side. “Devoran, it will be a while until our marriage. I want you to relax, have some fun and recover from the loss of your father. I have no intention of even thinking of forestalling our wedding night, and I want you to trust me.”

She had the grace to smile an apology, and snuggled against him. “I do. I shall always trust you, Amroth. But it has been a long and rather overwhelming day.”

“I know. I just wanted to sit with you for a while.” He laid one arm around her shoulders, twisting a length of her hair through his fingers. “Nothing more, just sit and enjoy the peace together.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, but Amroth had the feeling she was working herself up to saying something. Mindful of his father’s warning, he waited for her to voice any fears. Then sensing some real anxiety he hugged her gently against him. “What is it? You have something on your mind, I can tell.”

Her words came out as a whisper. “Amroth, could you please arrange to sell Col.”

“Sell Col, but why? He will like being here and has already made friends on the journey.” What had brought that on?

She looked surprised. “Do horses make friends?”

“Of course they do, and sometimes enemies. But generally they like living together. Why do you wish to sell him, Devoran?”

“I need a wedding dress. And other clothes. I cannot keep wearing your sister’s.”

“Well, yes indeed, but there is no need to sell Col. We must have storerooms full of silks and satins, but if there is nothing you like a merchant will call. Calaerdis will help you; she has a knack for it.” Her demeanour stiffened, there was something bothering her. “Devoran, what is the matter? Please tell me.”

The troubled gaze dropped, eyes studying her lap. Nervous fingers played with the silk sleeve of her gown. “If my father were alive and in his right mind, he would have wished to pay for my wedding dress.”

Amroth’s heart lurched with both compassion and love as he realised pride stopped her wanting to take too much before she was his wife. He thought quickly. “Yes, he would, without a doubt. Let me think. It would be a shame to sell Col; he is a very nice horse, ideal for nervous riders. I know what we will do. Tomorrow we will go to the scribe. Col can be entered into the Palace ledger, and his value noted, just as we do if we buy a horse. There will be enough credit for your wedding dress and anything else you require.”

Her head shot up. “Are you sure?”

Damn right! He would prime the scribe first thing in the morning. “Yes, of course I am sure, and it is the best for Col. If you sell him, he may not go to a good master and he will be useful to us.”

“Thank you.” The smile returned to her face. “That eases a worry.”

Amroth pulled her head down on his shoulder and kissed deep into the glory of her hair. His father was right, as always. She must be hiding all sorts of things.

To be continued.

Original Characters in this chapter.

Devoran -                  daughter of Duinhir, Lord of Morthond.

Alhael  -                     son of Duinhir’s elder sister. Devoran’s cousin.

Calaerdis -                Imrahil’s mistress

Princess Meren -          Elphir’s wife

Ana- G                     Junior maid in the Palace

Hisael- G                 Senior maid in the Palace. Once maid to Lothíriel

Chapter 13

Dol Amroth

The colour had taken her ages to get right: painstakingly blending the powders with the egg mix. Devoran sat back and stared critically at the hibiscus bloom on the table, and then to her painting. The deep pink was as near as she could get. Difficult to precisely replicate the form, too, as the blooms wilted almost as soon as they were picked, and she had to rely on her sketches drawn in the palace gardens. But overall, she thought the flowers painted on the small wooden panel to be a fair representation, looking vibrant and alive. Having followed the craftsman’s instructions faithfully, she could only trust the colours would not fade, so that Lothíriel could enjoy them for many years. Devoran had Calaerdis to thank for the idea, offered when she had mentioned she would like to somehow say thank you to Lothíriel for all the clothes.  Hopefully, her painting of the showy passion vine twined with hibiscus blooms, Lothiriel’s favourite flowers, would hang in Meduseld and bring back memories of her home. But with the King and Queen of Rohan arriving in a few days, she didn’t have long to finish it.

Devoran picked up her brush and loaded it with colour, but before she could start on the next hibiscus she heard the door open. No need to turn around: the tingle of awareness that pulsed through her was a sure indication of who had come into the library.

“Did you win?”

Amroth chuckled. The door clicked shut. “Elphir spends too long behind his desk, and do not tell my father, but his age is beginning to show. At least when it comes to fast swordplay.”

 “Erchi?” she asked, still not looking at him, aware of his long running struggle to best his brother.

Another chuckle. Footsteps crossed the tiled floor. “One day I will beat him.”

Devoran felt her hair being gently moved aside, and shivered as his lips brushed across the hidden skin beneath.

“I love that soft, creamy bit.”

His hand trailed across her shoulder and down her arm as he moved to her side.  It earned him a severe look, which he answered with a cheeky grin before sitting himself on a clear bit of table. Too close for comfort.

Determined not to react to his nearness, Devoran glanced over her shoulder. “Where’s Drummer?”

“With Alphros. Chasing rabbits around the training field when I last saw them.”

That pleased her. Drummer was having a wonderful time here, and he doted on Alphros as well as Amroth. She wiped her brush on a rag, put it down, and sat back in the chair again.

“No, just carry on. I will sit here and watch.”

His hair was damp, probably from a dousing under the spout, and he was wearing only breeches and boots with a loose white linen shirt. The open neck showed his tanned chest and just a little black hair. Devoran felt something inside her more than flutter. She swallowed; there was no way she could concentrate on painting with his leg right next to her arm. Reeling under the onslaught of his scrutiny, she realised he was totally aware of the effect his nearness had on her senses. The warmth that generally ended up on her face had melted her insides.

“I cannot possibly paint with you sitting so close. And you know it.”

“I would be disappointed if you could.”

Meeting his gaze – hunger and longing, an ardency kept in check over the past weeks –  a great rush of desire rocked her. “And stop looking at me like that!”

Amroth raised a black brow, feigning innocence. “How am I looking at you?”

“As though you wish to eat me.”

He leaned closer, lips twitching, and ran the back of one finger up the length of her arm. “That is because I do. I am just deciding which bit to nibble first.”

Heart thumping, Devoran managed to school her voice. “Well, you still have plenty of time to decide. Until the fifteenth to be precise.”

Amroth sat straight back up, dissolving into laughter. “Devoran, promise me you won’t ever change.”

Getting her wayward emotions under control, she flashed him a sideways look and picked up her brush. No more painting today, she might as well wash it. “I must finish tomorrow.”

“It looks good, the colours are right.”

“It took forever. Evidently the red hue comes from Harad, made from the bodies of insects, I’m told. I had to mix it to get the hibiscus pink, but sometimes the colours change in a way one would not expect them to do.”

Amroth put a finger into her dish of colour, examined it and wiped it off on a cloth. “Will the colour stay true?”

“For quite a time, if I have prepared it correctly. The board had to be primed with a mixture of chalk and rabbit-skin glue.” Devoran shuddered at the thought of the terrible smell boiling rabbit skins made. “Luckily a craftsman does all that.” They had all been so kind, and she knew why. Prince Imrahil had spoken to Master Nemir about her – in between the bouts of riding and sailing, a peaceful activity would keep her occupied and be beneficial to her recovery.

“You are enjoying yourself, I see.”

Devoran nodded. Smiling at him, she put a cover on the dish. “I never thought I would have time in my life to do things like this, but here so much is done for me.”

“You must make the most of your leisure; it may not always be so. Meren is kept very busy, even though she has a lot of help. Babies seem to cause a lot of work.”

“Babies!”

His eyes filled with mischief. “You know, Devoran, it does tend to happen when a man makes love to his wife.” Amroth started chuckling even before he could get the next words out. She had an inkling what was coming and willed herself not to blush; she could manage it if prepared. “And I think that I had better warn you, that making love to my wife is something that I intend to do extremely frequently.”

Devoran glared at him, but she couldn’t keep it up and laughter bubbled out. “A warning, Amroth?”

A slow smile curved on his lips. “Hmm… more a promise.”

Caught by those black eyes, Devoran’s heart jumped to her throat; she had to remember to breathe.  No rejoinder would come, but suddenly he took pity on her confusion and dropped his gaze.

“Devoran, we need to talk about our wedding trip.”

“We are having a wedding trip?” She had thought she would just move into his rooms.

“Yes, if you are agreeable. I have had a letter from Faramir inviting us to spend some time in Ithilien. I didn’t mention it before, whilst you were so upset.”

“I’m better now.”

Amroth took hold of her hand, slowly rubbing his fingers across her knuckles. “I know you are. It was to be expected that there would be a reaction.”

And what a reaction: a chance remark by someone about families and she had cried all over Amroth in the middle of dinner. Strangely, mostly about her mother. Perhaps because it had taken a long time to forgive her for destroying the remnants of their family.  But now she accepted that it was not her mother’s fault that she fell in love with a handsome young man from the mountains, not her fault that those mountains frightened her, overpowered her and closed her in. Devoran sighed; the anguish was still there, but she had it under control. And would she be marrying a prince, if it were not for her mother’s fine manners, her music and dance and her gentle ways?

“I would like to see Ithilien,” she agreed. Her plan had been to go there with Drummer, but now she would be going with Amroth. How wonderful.

“Good, they have a charming guesthouse amongst the trees. Lothíriel and Éomer stayed there.”

She smiled, sharing his enthusiasm. “That sounds lovely. We would go by ship?”

“Yes, you will find that fun. I also wondered if you would like to spend some time in Minas Tirith afterwards. I think you would really enjoy it. Being at Court is entertaining for a short while. You would appreciate the music and the dancing, and the libraries. Also the markets and shops, I should think. The family house is just outside the citadel and has beautiful views. No one else is planning a visit, so we would have it to ourselves. It is a good time to see the City as it will not be stifling hot like it sometimes is in the summer. We can be back for yuletide and Orion’s wedding.”

“Oh, I have never been to Minas Tirith,” she exclaimed. “And you are right; I would really enjoy the music and dancing.” He’d obviously been thinking about this, though he hadn’t mentioned it before.

“I thought you would. We will be able to dance all night and no one will mind.”

“Do wives dance all night with their husbands?” she asked as artlessly as she could.

A mock frown appeared. “Well, you are certainly not going to dance with anyone else. So you will just have to put up with me.”

Devoran laughed. “What a chore that will be.”

Grinning, Amroth carried on. “We will take the horses, as it will be good to be able to escape for some fresh air, and in any case we will need them in Ithilien.” Then he paused, looking a little uncertain. “Devoran, there is something else I wish to tell you, but I am not sure how you will react.”

Protecting her again! “If you do not tell me, Amroth, you will never know.”

“True. Well.., when we travel up the Anduin by ship, we will pass all the burial mounds. I thought you ought to be prepared.” He paused again, watching her face that had stiffened as the realisation of what she would see hit her. “Devoran, I know where your brothers are buried.”

The gaping pit of emptiness she had closed over the past weeks yawned open again. He still had hold of her hand; strong fingers squeezed encouragingly. She stared at him. “How, Amroth?”

“I have told you that I could not ride to the Black Gates because I had been wounded. I stayed in the City representing my father. Sometimes I think it may have been the worse option.” A look of remembered horror passed over his face.  “There were so many dead that at first we did not know what to do. All the foul beings and the orcs we burnt. As best as we could, we buried Easterlings and Haradrim separately, and according to their custom. When it came to our own we took as much care as possible in the circumstances.” He took a heavy breath. “Anyway, what I am trying to say is that I definitely know where the men from the Vale are buried, and I thought you may wish to plant flowers. Or a tree, perhaps.”

Stomach churning, she did not say anything for a moment, letting out a deep sigh. “That is really nice, thank you. It will make a big difference to have a grave to visit.”

“I hoped it might.”

A great surge of love overwhelmed her. He was kind and honourable and brave. She was very, very lucky. Devoran stood up in a rush and pushed back the chair, it toppled over and landed on the floor with a bang. Ignoring it, she walked straight into his open arms, wrapping hers around his neck. “Amroth, I love you.”

No more words! Their lips met in an explosion of passion, too long repressed. Squashed between his thighs, Devoran realised the intimate position she had put herself in. She should pull away, but rational thought seemed to have left her. Not long, not long until they were married…

“Yuck! You are kissing!” Alphros’ disgusted voice broke them apart. Devoran gasped, burying her head in Amroth’s shirt as her heart battered her breast.

“You should not allow her to do it, Amroth. My mother tries to kiss me all the time, but I do not let her.”

Amroth could hardly respond for laughing. “Very wise, Alphros. I keep telling Devoran not to kiss me, but she insists.”

“I don’t think you were trying hard enough to get away,” Alphros accused. “It’s disgusting.”

Devoran jabbed a finger in Amroth’s side. “Don’t you dare say any more,” she muttered.

Amroth chuckled, giving her a squeeze. “Come and talk to me about it in ten years’ time, Alphros. You might feel differently then.”

“I don’t think so!”

Devoran at last felt able to lift her head. The little boy was scowling. He looked daggers at her. She had obviously dropped in his estimation.

“Alphros,” she said, trying for normality, “where is Drummer?”

“He was following me until we went past the kitchens, then he disappeared.”

Devoran groaned: Drummer and the cook were at open war. Amroth chuckled as she sank her head gratefully back on his shoulder. Let him sort it out.

“Go back and get him, there’s a good lad. He will get his tail chopped off if he pinches any more meat.”

“I will, but I was on my way with a message. One of King Éomer’s Riders arrived after you left. Father said to tell you they are due here a couple of days early.”

“Éomer and Lothíriel, you mean?”

“Yes. And I bet Aunt Lothíriel will want to kiss me as well.” Alphros bristled with annoyance, small fists clenching.  “But even if she is a queen, I’m not having it!” He turned and stalked out of the door, leaving Devoran to try and regain her composure.

--

A few days later Devoran found herself waiting a little nervously for Amroth’s sister to arrive. Alphros however, in spite of his worries about being kissed, jumped up and down excitedly as the message came that the column was in sight. “The trumpeters will be lining up. I love the sound they make; it’s all silvery and important. When I’m big, they will blow them for me.”

“They won’t if you carry on misbehaving,” Elphir snapped.

Devoran guessed Elphir still hadn’t forgiven his son for encouraging Drummer to swim in the carp pond. Of course, that wouldn’t have been so bad, had Alphros not filched his father’s cloak to dry him off. And although she had been nowhere near, she felt responsible. But risking a glance towards Elphir, she saw that his lips were compressed hard together, which assured her he wasn’t really mad. He confirmed this by giving her a broad wink.

No time for more, because the family started to move towards the door. They all seemed to be as excited as Alphros, although no one quite jumped up and down. Devoran could not miss Prince Imrahil’s eagerness to greet his daughter after months of not seeing her, contrary to his usual air of equanimity. She knew Amroth was equally impatient to see his sister. They were close, which accounted for her slight worry as to whether she would get on with Lothíriel. But she would soon know.

The welcome party crowded the steps, Sergion and other close friends joining the group.  Very soon the clear notes of trumpets echoed around the stone walls. First through the gates came the standard bearer, followed by the King and Queen of Rohan. King Éomer’s guard piled in behind, but Devoran also saw some ladies amongst them, and at the back girls who must be maids. The standard bearer went to the side, but king and queen headed straight for the steps as the courtyard filled with green and gold. Amroth started to move forward still holding on to her, but Devoran put her hand on his back. “Say hello yourself first, I know you want to. You can introduce me after.”

Amroth let go and flashed her a grateful smile, before bounding down the steps. Devoran followed slowly, waiting on the bottom one. Prince Imrahil, remembering his manners, greeted King Éomer first, but Amroth went straight up to Lothíriel with his brothers behind him. King Éomer jumped down from his horse, but before he could help his wife, Amroth reached up for her. “I got there first for once,” he smirked at the Rohan king.

King Éomer laughed, and shrugged, as Lothíriel was surrounded by a press of family, Alphros pushing under his father’s arm to get to the front. The throng grew around Lothíriel and the rest of courtyard was now a sea of activity with stable boys rushing for the horses, and the palace servants keen to take the baggage.

A little way apart, Devoran stood with Meren, who had Elphin clasped in her arms. King Éomer, perhaps feeling a little neglected, strolled up to them. He was even more striking close to: large and muscular, confidence oozed from him. With no formality at all, he dropped a friendly hand on Meren’s shoulder and tickled Elphin under the chin.

“He’s grown.”

Meren heaved Elphin up a bit. “I am sure he is growing at twice the rate Alphros did. It looks like he will be the brawn of the family.”

Devoran knew he was a weight, and at just over a year old, could as yet only walk with help. She was about to offer to hold him for a while, when the King of Rohan held out his arms. Gratefully, Meren passed him over. “He’s very placid and biddable though. Which is just as well, because Elphir says he couldn’t cope with another like Alphros.”

King Éomer laughed, and moved the baby’s exploring hand from his beard to the embroidery on the collar of his tunic. Immediately Devoran warmed to him; he obviously had a gentle side. With Elphin occupied in trying to unravel a thread, King Éomer fixed his intense gaze on her.

“Lady Devoran,” Meren introduced her.

Lifting her head from her bow, Devoran found deep blue eyes raking up and down her in a blatant male assessment. But strangely she felt none of the confusion that one glance from Amroth caused her. She met his scrutiny boldly, which provoked an engaging royal grin.

“Don’t let him unnerve you, Devoran.” Amroth sounded greatly amused.

King Éomer swung around, still with Elphin pulling at his collar. “She’s too good for you, Amroth. I’d better take her back to The Mark and find her someone worth marrying.”

Laughing, Amroth slapped King Éomer on the arm, and held out his hand to her. “Come and meet Lothíriel, the crowd is dispersing.”

Calaerdis had not lied when she had said that Amroth’s sister was as exotic looking as her favourite flowers. She had looked beautiful at her wedding, but now after the long fine summer, her skin glowed with vitality and colour. A perfect foil for her unusual eyes. But nothing in her demeanour made one think she was hoity, or full of consequence. As Amroth started the formal introduction, Devoran found herself pulled into an enthusiastic hug.

“Oh, I am so glad you found each other. Amroth wrote to me. He’s so happy.”

But that was all the chance they got to assess one another with so many keen to greet Lothíriel. Not until the courtyard started to clear as the horses, with their baggage removed, were led away, was there more time for conversation. Amroth’s gaze followed the disappearing horses. “Where’s Bracken, Lothy? I thought you wanted to keep him for a while. Why are you riding that unremarkable gray?”

Lothiriel’s face took on a mulish look. “We left Bracken at home. Éomer will explain why. He condoned the decision.”

The King of Rohan sighed. “I didn’t condone it, Lothíriel. I merely accepted the council’s recommendation. But it turned out to be ignored, anyway. Your sister, Amroth, can be extremely strong willed.”

Devoran caught sight of Prince Imrahil’s face. Did she detect a satisfied smirk?

“Have you two had an argument?” Amroth asked, spluttering with laughter.

The silence said it all. Which made Amroth laugh more. “Now what would that be about?” He looked from one to the other. Lothiriel’s eyes flitted to her husband, but he said nothing.

She shrugged. “The council decreed that I should make the journey in a wagon. But honestly, bumping around in that thing would most likely make the next Lord of the Mark permanently seasick. I told them a horse is much smoother, but would they listen? You would think Horse-lords would be well aware of that fact, wouldn’t you?”

“So one day out, she tried to commandeer my remount,” King Éomer interrupted. “I did manage to persuade her to take a quieter mare. But we abandoned the wagon, which is why we are earlier than expected.”

By then everyone had grasped the significance of the exchange. More excitement broke out. A possible heir for Rohan was not to be taken lightly. Imrahil’s smile curved from ear to ear.

“But you haven’t been galloping, have you, Lothíriel?” Meren asked, shocked.

Lothiriel’s demeanour softened. She put her hand reassuringly on Meren’s arm. “No, of course not. I would not risk our child. But I promise you, a gentle canter on the verge is far less jolting than a wagon on rutted roads.” She lifted her chin, looking directly at her husband. “I really think that it is one area where a woman can decide for herself what is right. And the women of the Rohirrim generally ride until late pregnancy. Don’t they Éomer?”

The King of Rohan twisted his lips, reluctantly nodding agreement, which caused his wife to flash him a triumphant smile.

Devoran, following the conversation with increasing amazement, could only think they were well suited to each other, even if Meduseld occasionally rang with their arguments. But in the following days, in spite of their quite different temperaments, she found she had one big thing in common with Lothíriel – they both loved Amroth. That got their friendship off to a good start. And by Lothíriel arriving more than a week before the wedding, they had time to get to know one another, especially as Éomer and his guards couldn’t resist the opportunity for a bit of sparring with  their Dol Amroth friends.

With all the men occupied one afternoon, Devoran thought it a good time to try on her finished wedding dress. Calaerdis had been only too happy to help her with the design and instruct the seamstress as to what was wanted, and they were both very happy with the result.

“I don’t think we could have found a better colour combination, Devoran. It looks stunning with your hair.” Calaerdis stood back, a pleased smile on her face.

Devoran smoothed her hand over the rich material, a lavishly patterned gold silk. They had found it right at the back of one of the store cupboards, wrapped carefully in linen. But Lothíriel said she had never seen it before.

“I don’t think my mother wore anything made of that material. Perhaps it was bought for my Aunt Findulais, she would have needed plenty of fine clothes.”

Devoran had never thought she would wear anything so beautiful. Thank goodness Col had proved to be worth so much, or she would have felt guilty using it.  “You don’t think it’s too opulent?”

“Not over the plain undergown, my lady.” Hisael tweaked the skirt where it split to show the bronze silk underneath. “Lady Calaerdis certainly has an eye for knowing what will look right.”

Calaerdis laughed. “Well, we loved the fabric, but there wasn’t enough of it to make a complete gown, so I had to come up with this. But I think it works well.”

Devoran agreed. She liked the way the bodice fitted tightly, but the dress had been cut more like a skimpy surcoate, revealing a wide expanse of the delicate pleated silk of the undergown. A gown made entirely of the gold fabric would have been overpowering anyway.

“And the sleeves are magnificent,” Lothíriel added. “What a clever idea.”

“A good way of using small pieces of material,” Calaerdis agreed.

Devoran loved the sleeves. Full length, they had deep slashes across them, allowing the bronze silk to be pulled through.

“What about jewellery, Devoran. Have you got a circlet to wear?” Lothíriel asked.

“Yes, I have a plain gold one that was my mother’s. I thought about a cap of some kind, but decided that with my hair worn loose, the circlet would look better.” Devoran turned, intending to fetch it from the carved wooden box that stood on top of the oak coffer, but Hisael was already looking.

“Here it is, my lady.” She passed the circlet to Calaerdis, who spun it around in her fingers, examining the small lattice-patterned cut-out at the front.

“This will do very nicely. Simple and tasteful. With the sumptuous fabric and the intricate sleeves, you don’t need any other jewellery. Put it on and let us see.”

That was a good job, because she didn’t have anything else she could possibly wear with this dress. Devoran took the circlet and walked to the big mirror. She still couldn’t believe that the reflection was actually her. She fixed the gold band around her head and turned back to the others for the verdict.

“Oh, that really suits you,” Lothíriel exclaimed. “I think you are right about not wearing a headdress. The gown is enough, and the circlet finishes it off. Don’t you agree, Calaerdis?”

“Yes, I do.  I loved that headdress you wore, but your dress was plainer.”

“Plain things suit me better. Devoran is much more ladylike than me. And I look better in cream or something vibrant, but gold and bronze look fabulous on her.”

Calaerdis cast her eyes to the bed, where Lothíriel lay sprawled on her stomach, her hands propping up her chin. “I hope you have brought a dress to wear at the wedding, Lothíriel. We have barely seen you out of those riding skirts.”

Lothíriel chuckled and turned over, patting her belly. “I am making the most of it. I won’t be able to get into them soon and will have to wear dresses all the time. But I will miss the freedom of movement.”

Whatever Devoran had expected of Amroth’s sister – the Queen of Rohan – she had not expected that she would be so… natural. But she supposed Lothíriel could behave queenlike when the occasion demanded it. However, her preference for wearing riding outfits had meant the palace dressmakers had patterns to hand and had produced a few for her within days of her arriving in her borrowed rags.  Devoran took another look in the mirror. Riding outfits were necessary, but she preferred the femininity of dresses.

“Shall we take it off, my lady? Now we know it fits perfectly.” Hisael undid the belt that clasped the two front pieces together and slipped the overgown back from Devoran’s shoulders.  Calaerdis took the garment from the maid and hung it on a hanger on the wardrobe door.  Relieved of the dress, Hisael pushed Devoran’s hair aside and started to undo the bow at the top of the undergown.

 She ought to try herself. Devoran put her hand around the back, but found she couldn’t reach the lacings, dropping her hand as a laugh came from the bed.

“Amroth will have to do it. No maids allowed.”

Devoran flashed her a grin, resolving to make sure she could loosen her undershift herself. “I am more worried about slipping off his horse, wearing all this silk.”

Lothíriel chuckled more. “Oh, don’t worry, he’ll hold you tight. He won’t want you getting away.”

“I am sure it will all go perfectly, Devoran. But you must tell him to be careful what he says during the ceremony. We don’t want you blushing; pink will not look good with gold.”

Calaerdis had such a wry way with her, you couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not what he says,” Devoran replied, grinning. “It’s the way he looks at me. It started right from the moment I first met him. There is a certain twinkle in his eyes that makes me go all funny.”

“Yes,” Calaerdis raised her brows, “I know that look. It must run in the family.”

Devoran and Lothíriel burst out laughing. “Stand still, my lady,” Hisael said, her lips twitching, “I am going to drop the undergown to the floor and I don’t want you stepping on it.”

Before Devoran could put her day dress back on, Lothíriel leaped up from the bed. “Wait a moment, there something you might like to try on. Hisael, where’s that lovely riding outfit I wore in Minas Tirith? The blue one made from dyed doeskin.”

“At the far end of the rail, my lady.” Hisael didn’t stop what she was doing – carefully pulling the linen covers over the wedding dress.

Lothíriel started searching through, sliding the clothes along the rail impatiently. “There is still so much here, I got fed up with sorting it before I left. Some of this stuff goes back years. Ah…here it is.” She extracted a garment in Dol Amroth blue. It looked much like a man’s tunic, but was cut with a fuller skirt, the hem of which was decorated with silver swan-ships. “It was my best riding outfit, but I only wore it twice.” Lothíriel, chuckling about something, held it out to Devoran. “I remember telling Amroth to find a wife it would fit; he obviously took me at my word.”

“I am sure that weighed heavily with him,” Calaerdis remarked with the ghost of a smile. “But it will be very suitable for you to wear when you arrive in the City, Devoran. As you will be riding from Emyn Arnen.”

“I’d love to be there.” Lothíriel grinned wickedly. “A few elegant noses will be put out of joint when Amroth shows off his new wife.”

“Hmm…” Calaerdis mused. “I remember something similar when a certain princess arrived on the King of Rohan’s horse.”

“I spent the next hour pulling knives out of my back,” Lothíriel agreed, lookingpleased with herself.

The stern look Hisael gave her erstwhile mistress started Lothíriel laughing. She grinned at the maid and went back to her spot on the bed.  But Hisael ignored her and spoke to Devoran. “Do you want to put it on, my lady? If so, I will need to find a blouse.”

The outfit fitted perfectly and Devoran was persuaded to try on a succession of other garments with Dol Amroth insignia that could be made less formal with a little alteration. Eventually, with the choices made, Hisael left with an armful of clothing, and instructions from Calaerdis to be passed on to the seamstress.

Devoran sank into a chair as the door closed behind the maid. “I won’t have time to wear them all.”

“But you will have the rest of your life to wear the blue and silver.” Lothíriel stared at the riding outfit that had been left hung outside the wardrobe rather wistfully. “For years I had no interest in clothes, then within months of enjoying getting dressed up, I met Éomer. Which meant I never got the chance to wear some of the ceremonial stuff more than a couple of times.”

“A small price to pay for gaining such a splendid husband, I imagine.” Calaerdis stood up, glancing out of the window. “I have some correspondence to attend to. Shall I send a steward here with tea, or will you go to the garden?”

Lothíriel stretched. “I am comfortable here. We can sit on the window seat and look at the sea. It is too late to walk down to the beach. That’s if you are happy, Devoran.”

“That’s fine by me,” Devoran said from her chair. “Trying on all those clothes has exhausted me.”

The door shut behind Calaerdis and Lothíriel rolled off the bed and wandered to the window, bare feet pattering on the floor. She sat down with her back against the worn panelling, drawing up her knees and clasping them with long, brown arms. Her eyes swept across the expanse of the bay. “The sea is achingly blue today. It has so many moods, but I especially love it on sunny, cloudless days.”

Devoran heaved herself up from the chair and went over to stand next to Lothíriel. The sea sparkled sapphire blue in the unseasonably hot weather. The chain of islands that ringed the bay stood out in sharp relief, their crescent beaches pale and inviting. “Do you miss it, Lothíriel?”

“Yes, terribly. But not enough to make me wish that I had done other than marry Éomer.” She sighed, her eyes taking on a dreamy look. “Nothing can compare to the joy I have found with him.” Suddenly Lothíriel looked up, grabbing Devoran’s hand. “I hope you will be as happy. You deserve to be.”

Did she? Did anyone merit happiness because they’d had a tough time? Many never had it other than tough. Unable to answer, Devoran smiled and sat down, looking out at the view. If she craned her head, she could just see the tower where she would spend her wedding night.

Lothíriel twisted around to see where she was looking, smiling sympathetically when she realised. “Are you nervous?”

Devoran shook her head. “I don’t think so. I was more nervous of meeting all your family and of remembering the customs. But I needn’t have worried, I found that in spite of the formality in public, behind closed doors everyone behaves perfectly normally.”

“We have always had a close family life,” Lothíriel agreed. “But it is true there are many traditions. Growing up with it all, I did not really notice. Although there are customs everywhere. And, of course, they have different ways of doing things in Rohan.” She shrugged. “I made a few mistakes, but Éomer helped me a lot.”

Devoran could understand that with her own experience of arriving in a strange place. “Amroth has been very supportive also. He has seldom been far from my side.”

Lothíriel raised her black brows, her eyes alight with mischief. Immediately Devoran was struck by her resemblance to Amroth.

“So, you are happy about your wedding night?”

And both of them could make her blush! “Don’t worry, Meren talked to me,” she said, hoping to forestall any further dialogue on that particular subject.

“Did she!” Lothíriel was obviously intrigued. “I would love to know what she told you.”

“Well,” Devoran swallowed, trying to get rid of her embarrassment, “apart from making sure I knew the basics, she mostly said to leave it to Amroth.”

Lothíriel erupted with laughter. “Very good advice. I cannot better it.”  Then Lothiriel’s mouth opened as though she had just remembered something. “Did she tell you about the modesty gown?”

“Yes, another tradition, isn’t it? But a relatively new one.” Devoran was not exactly sure she had followed Meren’s explanation of the origins, too discomfited to listen properly.

Lothíriel laughed. “It was started by Aunt Ivriniel. A fusty relative gave her a book, obviously written by a complete prig. Belecthor, I think his name was. Anyway, he wrote a book on how young ladies should behave…”

“The Gondorian maiden’s guide to proper deportment,” Devoran interrupted.

“That’s it. Well, he, the idiot, declared that brides should cover themselves on their wedding night and designed this abomination of a garment that one could get undressed under, and do everything else required, without actually showing any flesh.” She giggled. “One was ordered for Aunt Ivriniel by her relative, but Aunt is no prude and started the custom by holding it up, pretending to don it, just to see what her new husband would do. I think he tore it into shreds.”

Devoran laughed. “Meren said Elphir threw hers into the air and caught it on his sword. It fell into two pieces on the floor. But I couldn’t understand why he would need his sword honed to such an edge on his wedding night.”

“Habit,” Lothíriel answered immediately. “All warriors are the same. Éomer still sleeps with a knife under his pillow, whatever I say.”

Goodness, she hoped Amroth would not do that. “What did Éomer do with yours? Meren didn’t know…”

“No.” A soft smile crossed her face. “I never got the chance to tell her. It was manic here with all the guests, so Éomer and I tried to keep out of the way.”

Hardly surprising when their betrothal had been so long. A good job she and Amroth did not have to wait a year, especially living as closely as they were now. Devoran’s face warmed at her thoughts. Lothíriel was looking dreamily out of the window so she poked her. “Well, are you going to tell me?”

The dreamy look changed to a grin. “It took him a minute to work out what he was looking at. But then, well, I can only describe his expression as outraged. He didn’t even say anything, just grabbed it off of me and threw it on the fire,” Lothíriel said with some pride.

Devoran shook her head, laughing. She could just see Éomer doing that.

Lothíriel put a hand on her arm. “Has one been made for you?”

“Yes, it’s been organised. And I am told it must be kept a secret, one only passed down to Dol Amroth brides. ”

“Correct.” Lothíriel sat back satisfied. “Now, you must promise you will follow the tradition and hold it up against you, pretending you are going to put it on. I can’t wait to know what Amroth does with it.”

“Oh, I promise.” She would definitely do that. “I can’t wait either.”

---

To be concluded.

A/N  Some of you will be familiar with Belecthor’s book.  A big thank you to Lia for loaning it again.

And thanks are due to Virtuella for pointing me in the direction of information on early paints and painting.

Original Characters in this chapter.

Devoran -                   daughter of Duinhir, Lord of Morthond.

Calaerdis -                 Imrahil’s mistress

Princess Meren -          Elphir’s wife

Hisael-                   Senior maid in the Palace. Once maid to Lothíriel

Sergion -              Previously the Captain of Lothiriel’s Dol Amroth Guard. Friend to Imrahil.

Oríon -               Long time friend of Amroth – Son to Sergion

Chapter 14

Dol Amroth - October 15 FA1

Sunlight flooded through the tall windows, firing the sprays of autumn leaves that crammed the huge silver centrepieces. Oak, beech, birch, chestnut adorned the tables – challenging the oncoming winter with flaming colours, vibrant and intense after the long dry spell.  Amroth didn’t think he had ever seen the Great Hall decorated in such a way before, but the foliage display was not the only thing about this wedding that struck him so forcibly as different. The fact that his own nuptials were about to take place made it astonishing enough, but more than that – this was the only wedding he had ever attended where he knew every guest. Even the members of Aragorn and Éomer’s Guards, who clustered at the far end, were familiar to him. 

Amroth ran his eyes along the lavishly prepared tables and saw Swan-knights in immaculate dress uniforms sitting together, their ladies arrayed in fine silks. There were senior servants looking a little awed at the prospect of being honoured guests, some anxiously glancing around, nervous as to whether their underlings would manage without them. Down one side sat soldiers, with chattering wives resplendent in their best dresses, determined to enjoy the day.  It was a real family occasion. And he knew that after the magnificent spectacle of Lothiriel’s wedding, the intimacy was appreciated. Ephrem had told him so. His father’s steward keen to pass on how pleased the staff were to be able to enjoy the day after they had all worked so hard for the last, very extended, wedding celebration. Not that everyone could sit at ease for the entire afternoon, but all would get a chance to join in at some time.  Amroth brought his eyes back to the head of the hall were Faramir was smoothing out long gold and blue ribbons into ordered ranks, laying them onto a table covered with dark velvet. His cousin must have performed many marriages since becoming Steward, but he would be leaving nothing to chance, all would be perfect. Amroth felt he should be entirely relaxed – Faramir was marrying them, his father and brothers stood behind him, his best friend stood next to him, and a great proportion of the people in the hall he had known all his life. But a niggle of unease wormed its way into his happiness – Devoran had no-one, and that worried him.

However, he could do nothing about it: after her grandparents’ deaths she had lost touch with her mother’s kin, and, understandably, Alhael had not been invited. Trying to dismiss his worry, Amroth ran his finger around his embroidered collar; the day was warm. He moved slightly to get himself out of the direct sunlight.  Although Oríon didn’t appear to be hot. It would be very different at his wedding. Amroth turned to his friend, who was looking particularly splendid in dark red and had buffed up his neglected sword for the occasion. “It’s going to be cold at Yule,” Amroth remarked.

“It usually is, but I imagine the hall will be warm,” Oríon answered, slanting him an amused look.

“I meant in the tower. It might be a bit chilly when the sun goes tonight,” Amroth went on, “but when you go through this and take Luineth there, it will be the depths of winter.” Oríon, being offered the tower like many high ranking members of their household, had jumped at the chance.

He certainly didn’t look bothered by the threat of cold and his eyebrows rose jauntily. “I gave thought to that, but decided getting married at Yule has one great advantage. I am surprised you haven’t thought of it.” He waited for some reaction.

“Well?” Amroth wasn’t up to guessing games.

“If it’s freezing, Luineth won’t be interested in paddling or collecting shells, will she?”  Oríon smirked. “Hopefully the wind will rattle the windows and the spray sweep right over the turret.  And she will be happy to spend the whole twenty-four hours tucked under the covers.” 

Amroth laughed, which released a little of the tension in him, but not all of it. Luineth would have her whole family to support her. “I hope Devoran is going to enjoy this.”

“Why shouldn’t she? Women love weddings, surely. Especially their own.”

“Yes, but normally they have their family around them. She is alone.”

“Elessar is very a very calming man. I am sure he will keep her composed.”

He knew Oríon sought to reassure him.  That was his role today: to support and help deal with the bridegroom’s nerves. Amroth would be reciprocating at Yule, that was if Oríon had any nerves.

“I suppose he will,” Amroth agreed. Aragorn’s offer to take the father’s role had first alarmed Devoran, but she had soon seen the wisdom of it. And, notionally, if she hadn’t recently come of age, she would be a ward of Gondor anyway.  “But although Aragorn might be calm, I am not sure about my sister and Éowyn.”

“Amroth, stop worrying,” Oríon sounded a little exasperated.  “You are as nervous as a kitten. Devoran will be fine. She and Lothíriel seem to get on well, and Éowyn has a certain serenity since producing an heir for our Steward.”

The door opened at that moment and Lothíriel and Éowyn slipped into the hall. Both straight away looked towards him, grinning in the way women did when they conspired together. Lothíriel went to join Éomer, who was talking to Sergion, and Éowyn sat down next to Meren. Faramir bent his head and said something to Alphros, last minute instructions on passing the ribbons, no doubt. Although the lad had performed the task for Éomer and Lothíriel capably.  Happy that Alphros knew what he was doing, Faramir left the ribbons alone, flashed Amroth a reassuring smile, and stood waiting, looking towards the doors. 

Sensing the moment was near, the guests gradually ceased their conversation and heads turned his way. Amroth fixed his eyes on the doors, willing them to open.

“Last chance to run,” Erchi whispered from behind him.

But he didn’t want to run. He wanted Devoran with an intensity that frightened him. But he also wanted to see a smile on her face, and to know that she was happy.

“She’s coming,” Oríon indicated the trumpeters who were lifting the long shining instruments to their lips.

How did they know? He had seen no signal, but as the first note rang out, the doors swung wide. Immediately Amroth realised why the hall glimmered with golden leaves. Devoran glowed with the colours of autumn, from her gleaming hair to the rich dress. She shone like a treasure horde, enticing and tempting. He wanted to dip in and seek for the precious jewels.

“Now I know why you made me chase her through the mountains,” Erchi murmured appreciatively.  His father and Elphir chuckled, Oríon whistled quietly through his teeth.

Amroth made no reply, his mouth had dried, and he could do nothing but stare at her. Devoran faltered slightly, nervously looking around at the daunting spectacle of a hall full of people standing up in her honour with their eyes fixed on her. But Aragorn leaned close to whisper something, and Amroth saw him squeeze her arm. Devoran pulled herself up and her eyes flew straight to where her future husband was waiting, surrounded by his family. Smiling, Amroth took a step forward, holding out his hand. Devoran blazed her way towards him, confidently, the King of Gondor at her side, her head held high.

Her confidence lasted through the ceremony. She had no trouble speaking her vows, looking straight into his eyes, her own soft and trusting. Even Alphros’ disgusted ‘yuck’ when Amroth took her in his arms and kissed her to claim her as his wife, didn’t disturb her poise. Although it amused those around. She sat through the meal with a smile on her face, laughing at the innuendos from his brothers and only blushing lightly during his father’s speech. It was only later, when they took the long path that wound down to the beach, and he gathered her up against him so she wouldn’t slip from Aero’s back, that he felt the first tremor of her nerves.

“Relax,” he whispered, “I won’t let you fall.” Although he didn’t really think falling from his horse was what was bothering her. “We are lucky, it is going to be another beautiful evening.” Colour streaked across the western sky, a few filets of cloud dark against the horizon. The air was still warm, a year when summer seemed reluctant to yield its pleasures and winter hesitant to advance.

Devoran nodded, but she didn’t say anything. Amroth wanted to laugh. He did not even mind that she was now obviously anxious, finding the thought of gently seducing his own wife extremely pleasing. Surely he could push away all memories of the dreadful attack on her. The guard would be turning back shortly, as soon as they reached the causeway. Not before time. He desperately wished to kiss her, somewhere nice, one of those lovely creamy bits. Think of something else.

He could not deny that he was truly looking forward to the rest of the evening, introducing her to pleasures she knew nothing about. However, the good thing was that he just as eagerly anticipated their wedding trip. He knew that she was going to enjoy it, and that pleased him. They would have fun because they made each other laugh and just delighted in being together. He was so looking forward to showing her Ithilien. And he knew that she would also take great pleasure in the delights of Minas Tirith. Whenever he visited the City, he seemed to be the centre of gossip. Well, he would definitely give them something to gossip about this time: the fact that he was so obviously in love with his own wife.

He was also hoping to take her to Rohan next summer; they could make a detour through the Vale. His father thought that by then she would wish to visit her parents’ grave, and he was always right. Amroth trusted that Aragorn would have thrown her brute of a cousin out before they got there. He laughed to himself, the hardest part would probably be persuading her to brave the tunnel and the dreaded spiders. It was the only doubt she had shown about his original plan to get married in Edoras. That was it! He knew exactly how to make her laugh and relax.

“In a moment the guard will leave us, and I am going to kiss you,” he whispered.

“Well, you will have to hold on tight or I will slip right off.” She laughed nervously. “I am not sure all this silk was such a good idea.”

“It looks beautiful and so do you.”

They reached the start of the causeway; it stretched out to the tower, stone piled upon stone to raise it above the water for a few hours each day. Silver fish splashed in the pools left by the receding tide. Their scales, catching the rays of the sinking sun, glinted red. Gulls wheeled and dived, squabbling nosily to snatch a meal from the open larder.  Amroth gave all the activity no more than a glance, his mind on other things tonight. He acknowledged his captain’s salute. Gidon had been with him from the start of his pursuit of Devoran, and the man gave him a hearty wink before he turned his horse.  As the Guard departed, Amroth guided Aero carefully onto the start of the causeway, the horse’s hooves kicking up fine spray as they clipped across the stone. The gulls circled around, screaming obscenities at the intruders spoiling their supper.   Halfway across he eased Aero to a halt, the horse looking around curiously at the expanse of shimmering water. It lapped against the stones gently now, but soon the tide would reclaim the pathway with unstoppable power, locking them together, undisturbed, until the pull of the moon drew the seas away from the land again. Amroth had one arm around Devoran’s waist, holding her close, the reins looped through his fingers.  The other hand he used to push aside her mass of hair. Over the summer the sun had turned her creamy skin to pale gold, but hidden flesh still had the hue of ivory.  He placed his lips on the little bone behind her ear, gently caressing with his tongue.

A tremor ran right through her body, but to his relief, rather than pull away she pressed her body harder against him. “That tickles.”

He chuckled. Such an innocent. “It’s meant to.”

A squeeze of his knees and Aero moved on, soon reaching the rocky steps that led up to the dry land of the island. Not large – a small cove with a sandy beach, some tussocks of grass, and the tower. Looking out across the bay, it was nothing more than a room on top of a stable. But it served as a welcome bastion of privacy and peace for those who rarely managed to escape the ministrations of servants.

Amroth rode Aero right under the arch into the stable. Everything needed had been left ready, and the horse, having been exercised that morning and washed and groomed for the ceremony, only needed his tack removed.

“Stay where you are,” Amroth said as he slid down. As soon as his feet hit the floor he reached up for Devoran. She put her arms around his neck happily enough, but her whole body trembled.

 “Devoran, surely you are not frightened of me?”

She shook her head, “No, I am just a bit nervous.”

Hardly surprising after her experiences.  Amroth pulled her head onto his shoulder and smoothed down her hair. “Devoran, there is no race or competition, there is just you and me, and I love you.” She relaxed against him and he put his lips near to her ear.  “As soon as I have settled Aero, why don’t we go for a paddle.”

“A paddle?” Her head shot up. Probably the last thing she had expected him to want to do.

“Yes. There is a lovely sunset. The beach is very pretty and the water will still be warm. We might not get another chance if the weather breaks.”

Devoran looked down at the rich gold material of her dress. “It sounds nice, but I do not think that I should paddle in this.”

“Well, you must be wearing something under it, and it won’t be for long. A fire will be burning upstairs if we get cold.”

“The undergown will have to come off as well or the pleats will spoil,” she said a bit dubiously.

“Nothing under that?” Well, he could hope!

 “I am wearing an undershift, but it’s not at all decent.”

“Don’t worry, it will not offend me, and I am sure Aero won’t object.” Amroth thought he made a good job of keeping a straight face. She started to laugh; he had been counting on her sense of humour and squeezed her hand. “Let me put Aero in the stable, and I’ll help you with the dress.”

Amroth led Aero into the stall and quickly divested him of saddle and bridle. Immediately the horse buried its head in the feedbag and he left him eating.

Devoran was watching him with a wicked little smile of her face. “You don’t want to get that tunic wet. And before I take my dress off, you must remove your shirt.”

“My shirt?” Not that he had any objections.

She nodded. “Remember the woodpile.”

“Ah yes, my shirt it is then.”  She had told him that during her lonely times she used to go there and think of him.  Quickly he unbuckled his sword, and removed his tunic. Whilst he was doing that, Devoran slipped off her overdress and folded it over the wooden partition. But she watched him intently as he pulled off his shirt, her eyes dark in the dim light.  As soon as the shirt joined the dress, she spun around and lifted her hair so Amroth could undo the laces of the undergown.

“Lothíriel said you would be doing this.”

“I bet she did not think that I would be taking it off in the stable.” Wanting to keep the atmosphere light he made a great effort to refrain from kissing that lovely creamy skin quite every time he exposed another piece of flesh. She was right, she was not wearing much, a silky shift, which ended just below her knees and was laced at the front to her waist. So enticing, his breath came out in a deep sigh, but if he started kissing her now they would never get as far as the beach, and he very much wanted the fun. Keeping his eyes averted from temptation, he took her hand.

“Come on, before the light goes.”

Little wavelets lapped at the edge of the beach and they ran towards them, the wet sand squidgy between their toes.  The water was dark, but it was warm and silky. He led her deeper until the water reached her knees, and then pulled her into his arms,nuzzling into her neck. She was warm and silky, too.  “Does the water feel nice?”

Devoran nodded, shivering slightly as the chill of the air got to her. Goose-bumps appeared on her arms and she snuggled closer into him. They wouldn’t stay out long, but he just had to do this.

“If you feel a little tickle on your feet, do not worry, the octopuses come into the shallows at night and wave their tentacles around. They love to suck your toes.”

Devoran left the water with the speed of an arrow. Her arms went around his neck, her legs wrapping tightly around his hips. Although he had been expecting it, she nearly had him over; he could hardly stand up for laughing.

Still chuckling, Amroth carried her out of the water, trying to catch her lips with his, but she jerked her head away angrily.

“You beast, you absolute beast!” she hissed, trying to squirm out of his arms. But Amroth held on tight and after a moment she started laughing, and he took the opportunity to kiss her. Salty and sweet, a kiss of exploration and promise.

“Amroth,” she murmured when they came up for air, “I have no wish to spend my wedding night rolling on the sand. Please take me to bed.”

“Devoran, it will be my pleasure.” He loved the way she was always so direct, “But I think we had better collect your dress on the way, as I do not quite trust Aero to refrain from eating it.”

The dress was recovered intact, but she bundled it up as Amroth insisted on carrying her up the stairs. He marched into the room and put her down in the middle.  “I will just put a few more logs on the fire.” His eyes roved down the lacing of her shift. “You may wish to know that I have definitely decided which bit to nibble first.”

Devoran grinned at him, and pushed him towards the log basket. “Go on, I don’t want to get cold.” An eyebrow rose at that, but he went dutifully. She suddenly felt very happy, all the nerves had gone and she wondered how many others had had to wash sandy feet in a bucket in the stable. She looked around the room she had heard so much about. Hisael and Ana had taken great care: the huge bed in the alcove was topped with a colourful quilt and her pretty new robe hung on one of the posts. There was a marble topped table with food in earthenware containers, so they wouldn’t go hungry. The room was lit by candles in sconces, the glow from the fire and the last red rays of the sun peeping in through the open shutters. All intended to make their wedding night a time of bliss. But first she had something to do. Devoran flung her wedding dress over the screen, and picked up the modesty gown that had been left there. Giggling to herself, she held up the unbelievable garment. It was made of plain linen, and was like a cloak sewn up the front with slits for her arms, supposed to enable her to get undressed underneath without showing any flesh. Devoran nearly laughed out loud, wondering what Amroth’s reaction would be.

She draped it against her just as Amroth finished with the fire and turned around. His eyebrows drew together in a surprised frown.

“Whatever is that?”

“It is a ‘modesty gown’. I am told it is tradition for Gondorian brides.  I can take my clothes off underneath it and do everything else required,” she declared, trying to suppress her laughter.

Amroth stared at her for a moment, stunned. Then stepped towards her and in one fluid movement, took it from her hands, scrunched it into a loose ball and tossed it straight out of the window.  Without a word he swept her up into his arms and headed for the bed.

“Oh, that is interesting,” she said, schooling her voice to stop the laughter, “Lothíriel said Éomer threw hers on the fire.”

“I should darn well think so.”

Epilogue

Éomer had had a good day. In fact he had probably enjoyed Amroth’s wedding more than his own. He remembered being so impatient to take Lothíriel away, that he had barely eaten anything and had resented the speeches. But today he had taken pleasure in the food, the conversation with his friends, and even the dancing afterwards. Lying on the bed, resting his head on his arm while watching his wife brush her hair, was good too. She had not done up her robe, giving him an excellent view of her breasts. They were already fuller than they had been, and her belly was no longer flat, but nicely rounded.

He stretched; it would be even better when she joined him. “I thought brushing your hair was your maid’s job?”

“It is, but I gave her the night off. And anyway, Hulde has never felt the same about it ever since you came into my dressing room half naked and told her to ‘go away’!”

“I had not been home for three days,” he excused himself with a grin. “And don’t make out that I frighten her, because I don’t. Her brother is bigger than me.”

“But he is not her king,” Lothíriel retaliated. “You don’t realise how intimidating you can be.”

If he wasn’t careful his good day would end in a row. “If I promise to be polite to your maid, will you get into bed?” 

Luckily Lothíriel smiled indulgently. But instead of getting up she leant on the table, propped up her chin with her hands, and sighed. “It must be lovely in the tower; do you remember our wedding night?”

Did he! She’d not fussed with her hair then. “Of course. And I will tell you, my love, that not for one moment did I notice anything reserved about you.”

She laughed, looking at him mischievously. “Ah, then you remember Amroth’s definition of a lady?”

“I do, but I am sure he will cope. After all, he has had plenty of practice.”

That provoked a scowl, but it didn’t last long. “Do you think they will swim naked in the sea?”

“Well, if they do, then I just hope it is a lot warmer than when we did it.”

“You were quite warm afterwards, if I remember!”

“Yes,” he smiled at the memory, “but then we had to go in again. That sand gets absolutely everywhere.”

She flashed him a grin. “What would you have done if Amroth had turned up at Edoras with Devoran, asking you to marry them?”

Éomer laughed, almost wishing they had. “Locked them in separate rooms and made them wait six months. At least that is what I told Amroth, I owe him a few.”

Lothíriel sighed, looking dreamy again. “I am really glad he is so happy, she certainly seems to suit him. I think he adores her.”

“I agree. But I also think that some of the attraction is that she is totally alone, so therefore she now belongs completely and utterly to him.”

“What do you mean by that?” Lothíriel looked surprised.

“He’s used to sharing other people’s wives, but he’s extremely unwilling for anyone to share his.”

“Éomer, I am sure he was not as bad as you make out. Most were widows.”

Éomer shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Well, I suppose there were a few,” Lothíriel conceded the point. “And it is unusually perceptive of you to realise that.”

“It is, and if you do not hurry up and get into this bed, your unusually perceptive husband is going to come and grab you.”

“You must not grab ladies in my condition,” she retorted, nose in the air.

“In that case, your unusually perceptive husband is going to come and grab you gently.”

---

A cool breeze sneaked through the open window, bringing with it the tang of the sea, and the low roar of the returning tide. But the fire kept the room warm and under the covers it was warmer still. Amroth intended that the temperature would soar. But there was no rush, only a desire to prolong the exquisite sweetness of loving a woman and holding her in one’s arms. He gazed down the length of Devoran’s slim body, creamy and inviting, his and his alone, to treasure and protect. 

Amroth smiled into her eyes; there was no anxiety there now, only expectation and need. With a deep sigh of satisfaction he ran a finger across her flat stomach. 

Devoran sat right up, eyes sparking alarm. “What was that!” she exclaimed.

He’d never had that reaction before! But then he heard a pitiful bark. Bark?  No! It couldn’t be!  Not now! The barking became frantic, and he heard scratching at the door below. Amroth groaned in frustration. This could not be happening!

“It’s Drummer!” Devoran cried, starting to climb over him to get out of the bed.

“No,” Amroth pushed her down, “stay in the warm. I will go.” 

“How did he get here? Who let him out?” He’d strangle his brothers! And Éomer, him having something to do with it wouldn’t surprise him!

Amroth couldn’t answer because he didn’t know. Damn the dog! He would kill him!

“He must have followed us,” she went on. “You know he hates not to know where we are. I expect Alphros went to bed and he got lonely.”

“Lonely!” Amroth stalked to the window, shivering slightly in his nakedness, and shoved his head out. Drummer was under the window whining plaintively, tongue lolling out of his mouth. He looked exhausted. Catching sight of salvation, the miscreant thumped his tail on the step. Even in the half light Amroth could see he was soaking wet and shaking with cold. “He looks half drowned. He must have started to cross the causeway, but the tide comes back fast. The last bit would have been under water.”

“Oh, Amroth, he’ll get a chill,” Devoran wailed. “You’ll have to bring him up by the fire.”

Would he hell! “Drummer is not coming up here. I draw the line at that on our wedding night. He’ll have to go in the stable and Aero can sort him out. I’ll tell him to trample him to dust if he makes a noise.” Amroth snatched up his breeches and struggled into them. He looked round at Devoran. Naked and delectable, sitting in the middle of the bed. But instead of looking adoringly at him as she should be on her wedding night, she glared in his direction.

“You won’t let Aero hurt him?”

“No,” he relented, “of course I won’t.” Her face relaxed and a smile quivered. Amroth continued to watch her for a moment. His scrutiny made her snatch up the quilt, but she let it fall again when he quirked a brow in amusement. With sudden inspiration he lifted the cover on the food and grabbed a piece of chicken. That put a smile on her face.

“Don’t go away!”

As he stepped out of the door, Drummer launched himself. With his mind still on Devoran, Amroth had forgotten to forestall the dog’s enthusiasm and order him down. Dripping paws landed on his shoulders and the slobbering tongue raked his face, sand showering everywhere. “Get off, you hairy great monster!” He pushed him down. Drummer made a dive for the half open door and Amroth had to grab his wet scruff to haul him back. “Oh no, you don’t. There is no way I am sharing Devoran with you tonight.”

He held Drummer with one hand, holding out the piece of chicken with the other. “You can have it when you’re in the stable.” Drummer was torn between finding Devoran, and an extra supper. Amroth helped him make up his mind by pulling him around to the stable entrance. “In there!” He’d lost his patience.

He put the chicken on a ledge out of reach and opened the door to the stall, shoving Drummer in. Aero looked up from his meal unconcerned. The horse knew Drummer well and Amroth suspected he would probably be glad of the company. It was tempting to just throw the chicken in and leave, but Drummer was soaking wet. What could he dry him with? His shirt was still in the stable, but he baulked at that. Oh yes, that bloody garment he’d chucked out of the window. With a resigned sigh he went back outside and retrieved it. The thing was hideous! Whatever had Devoran been thinking?

Amroth wrapped it right over Drummer and started to rub him dry, all the while Drummer tried to rub himself against his legs, transferring his wet to him. “Stand still you horrible animal!”  This was his wedding night, and he was fighting with a wet dog! He gave up; Drummer would have to dry in the straw. Amroth fixed the latch and looked back over into the stall; Drummer was mesmerised by the piece of chicken. “You don’t deserve it!”  Liquid brown eyes pleaded starvation. Amroth gave him the chicken.

He wanted nothing more than to get back to Devoran, but he was damp and covered with sand. The shirt would have to be sacrificed. Amroth drew a bucket of water from the barrel and splashed it over his torso. Bloody freezing! Even an energetic rub down with the shirt didn’t warm him much.

When he got back upstairs, cold and a bit irritable, he closed the window, leaving only a small gap.   With a thin moon and a brightness of cold stars, the temperature had dropped drastically. Devoran had retreated under the covers with only her head showing.

“Is he all right?” she muffled from the depths of the quilt.

Amroth struggled to regain his sense of humour; they had all night, and the rest of their lives. “He’s fine, tucked in the straw and munching on chicken. Although I am sure he’s already had supper.”

Devoran chuckled, and Amroth tugged off his breeches. With a sigh of pleasure he slid in besides her, pulling her warm body against his cold one.

“You need to get warm,” she murmured.

Too true, he did.  And with no more interruptions! Amroth pushed her hair back from her face and let his lips gently brush against hers. But as he teased her with his tongue, she pushed him away slightly.

“Amroth, I have been thinking. Drummer had better come on our wedding trip.”

“What!”

“He won’t like being left behind. What if he tries to swim after the ship?”

“I’ll make sure he’s locked up.” Chained in the guardhouse would be good, or even the dungeons!

“But he will miss us,” Devoran pleaded, “and he will love it in Ithilien. Your house in the City does have a garden so …”

Amroth groaned, stopped her appeal with a finger against her mouth, and proceeded to nibble along the edge of her ear. “Yes, Devoran, Drummer can come.” Right at his moment he would promise her anything. Just anything!

The end.

A/N   For those who have not read Tide of Destiny Part 1, this is Amroth’s definition of a lady that comes during a conversation about his horse with Lothíriel.

“I will call her ‘Lady’, for she is just how a Lady should be.”

“Oh, and how should a Lady be?”

“Beautiful, proud, spirited, and just a little reserved.”

---

Heartfelt thanks to my wonderful beta, Lia. As always she has been with me every step of the way.

Part three – ‘Swansong’.  Coming this winter.

At the end of her life Lothíriel remembers the important happenings during her life as Queen of Rohan.

Mithrandir’s prophesies are played out, and we look in on Amroth and Devoran.

Thanks for reading, and a special thank you to all who have reviewed or commented on any of my stories. LBJ

Original Characters in this chapter.

Devoran -                   Daughter of Duinhir, Lord of Morthond.

Princess Meren -          Elphir’s wife

Hisael-                       Senior maid in the Palace. Once maid to Lothíriel

Ana -                          Junior maid.

Sergion -           Previously the Captain of Lothiriel’s Dol Amroth Guard. Friend to Imrahil.

Oríon -                       Long time friend of Amroth – Son to Sergion

Luineth-               Daughter of a shipbuilder from Pelargir. Met Oríon at Lothiriel’s wedding.

Ephrem -                      Prince Imrahil’s steward.