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The Road to Edoras  by Dreamflower

CHAPTER 49

“Your grace?”

Prince Amrothos reined in his horse, and turned his head. “Yes, Captain Meneldor?”

“We can reach Edoras today, if we do not stop. But it will be a long day, and we would not arrive well after sunset.”

There was a brief movement at his other side. The prince turned his head to look at his companion, who was clad in the grey and white livery of Ithilien. “What is it, Captain Beregond?”

Beregond shook his head. “I am anxious to arrive as quickly as we can. But I am afraid my reasons are selfish ones.” He shrugged and smiled ruefully.

Amrothos shook his head. “If we push hard, we will arrive bedraggled and weary. My sister would not thank me for making her enter Edoras in such a state. We will stop today, mid-afternoon. This will give everyone an opportunity to rest. And then we can enter Edoras tomorrow morning, refreshed and in state.” He glanced over at the sturdy small figure approaching on a shaggy pony.

“Master Gloín, I was just telling Captain Meneldor that we shall be stopping early this afternoon, in order to give us the chance to enter the city properly tomorrow morning.”

The Dwarf nodded. “Yes, that would be best. It will also give our host the chance to give us a proper welcome, as well.”

Meneldor looked thoughtful. “Your grace, I have a suggestion--perhaps we could send an outrider ahead, to inform Éomer King of our plan. I am sure that he has scouts watching for us, but I believe it would be a courtesy to let him know.”

Beregond grinned. “That sounds like an excellent plan, Captain Meneldor. Perhaps…”

Amrothos chuckled. “Are you volunteering to be that messenger, Captain?”

He shrugged, and smiled ruefully. “It has been a very long time since I have seen my son.”

The Prince reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know that. But you are representing the Prince of Ithilien, and you owe it to your liege to enter Edoras in state. It is only one more day, Captain Beregond. Besides if we arrived too late tonight, you would probably not see him until the morrow anyway.”

Beregond sighed. “That is true, your Grace.”

Menelcar nodded. “I will choose one of the Guardsmen--Eldil, I think. He is a swift rider when he needs to be.”

_______________________________________

Riding somewhat further back, Lothíriel watched the brief consultation of her brother with the Captains.

“What was that about, do you suppose, my Lady?”

Lothíriel turned to her companion. “I am not sure, Lady Arien, but if it is important, I am sure that my brother will let me know. I am supposing it is something to do with how long we will travel today.”

“Are you not anxious about it, my Lady?”

“Why should I be anxious?” Lothíriel was very grateful to Lady Arien for accompanying her to Rohan. Lady Arien was not a close friend, but having lost her husband on the Pelennor, she had nothing to keep her in Dol Amroth, and Lothíriel needed another companion besides her chambermaid. But Lady Arien persisted in thinking that it was to be taken for granted that Lothí riel would accept the King of Rohan’s suit. And while Lothíriel had to admit to herself that she was seriously considering it, her father had made it clear that she was not to accept just because it would be practical or a good political match. “Do not say ‘yea’, my daughter, unless your heart is truly and fully engaged. For I believed our lives were forfeit and the world ending--yet now we walk beneath a clear sky and the Kingdom is restored. I promised myself that if you had a future I would not have you throw that future away for mere political advantage. I would have you choose love over duty, and happiness over practicality.”

Lothíriel had met Éomer King at the Gondorian wedding of her cousin Faramir to his sister the Lady Éowyn--they had already wed in Rohan. He was comely--very comely--and kind and courteous. He seemed very sad and grave to her, but then it had been a sad and grave year. He had lost his beloved uncle the King, and while he seemed to be glad to see his sister wed, still it would leave him without any close family at hand. His sombre mood amidst the festivity was understandable, She had been incredibly lucky during the War; unlike most, all of her family remained intact--her father and brothers had survived relatively unscathed. Éomer had been less fortunate, and she felt pity for him.

But pity was not love, nor was mere attraction. She hoped to get to know him. And perhaps her feelings would blossom into love.

“My Lady?”

She had been silent too long. “I am sorry, Lady Arien. I was wool-gathering.”

__________________________________

Gloín rode his pony back to the wain where most of his people were travelling. Nuri and Borin, long-time close friends of Gimli’s, were riding ponies alongside the wain.

“Master Gloín, is there a problem?” asked Nuri.

“No, not at all. We were merely discussing our arrival time; we should enter Edoras sometime late tomorrow morning.” Gloí n spoke brusquely. He did not wish to encourage conversation. He was trying to think how he would be greeted by his son on the morrow.

His scowl discouraged Nuri and Borin, and they dropped back, leaving him with his thoughts. Truly they were thoughts he’d been having ever since he had last seen his son, when Gimli and Legolas had returned from the War and the Quest.

Thorin Stonehelm, now King Under the Mountain, had greeted the son of Thranduil with great courtesy, but Gloín had not been pleased to see such a firm friendship between his son and the son of the Elf who had imprisoned him. Gloín--and indeed most of the Dwarves of his generation, and especially those who had survived the quest to overthrow Smaug--were more than a little unhappy to see the Elf within their halls. He would not disgrace his King nor dishonour his son by insulting a guest, but he had been as coldly formal and distantly polite as he could manage.

And he had rebuked Gimli for allowing himself such familiarity with the Elf. Gimli had waxed angry, and made it clear that his friendship with Legolas meant more to him than his father’s good opinion.

Then the Queen Mother had made an unprecedented request, and Legolas had been escorted to the women’s quarters to meet her and also Gimli’s mother and sister. He had created quite a stir there.

Gloín’s temper had not been helped when his wife and daughter took the Elf’s side. Apparently the Elf had made an extremely favourable impression in the women’s quarters.

The next day he had once more argued with his son, and then Gimli and Legolas had taken their leave.

Unfortunately for Gloín, King Thorin had not been pleased. Legolas was to have stayed far longer, and Thorin had been hoping to strengthen ties between the Mountain and the Wood.

And Gerd, his wife had not been pleased. Nor Frigg, his precious daughter, who had actually shouted at him--something she had never done before!

Then one more blow, and quite unexpected: a few weeks later, he had received a letter from his old friend Bilbo. Apparently after leaving the Lonely Mountain, the two companions had passed through Rivendell.

“My dear friend, I am gravely disappointed in you. Your son told me of your cold greeting of his friend Legolas.

How could you be so inhospitable to one who was your son’s companion on that horrible and dangerous journey? Gimli and Legolas were among that Company which set out from here on a desperate mission which no one expected to succeed. They braved dangers along the way, trying to protect my beloved Frodo! And along with Aragorn, they tried to rescue my young cousins Meriadoc and Peregrin from foul captivity among the orcs! They fought in battles together and saved one another’s lives. You are a warrior, you must know what sort of bond that forges between comrades-at-arms!

I do hope that you will seek to make amends, and that you will try to reconcile with your son. I know that he feels this estrangement deeply.

I am sure that once you give the matter some thought, you will realize that it is the right thing to do. You are an honourable Dwarf even though you are nearly as stubborn as a hobbit.”

 The old Dwarf sighed. He had been in the wrong, and he knew it. When King Thorin decided to send a group of Dwarves South, to fulfil the promise of help in rebuilding Minas Tirith, and to assist Gimli in the building of Aglarond, Gloí n realized that he had to accompany them, and try to make things right again.

But he wondered what sort of greeting his son would give him. Would he be welcomed? Or would Gimli remember only his father’s bitter words?

And would he be able to put aside his old prejudices when he was faced once more with his son‘s Elven friend?

_______________________________________

Beregond had not really expected the Prince to accede to his request to be the messenger, but he could not help the little leap of hope that came to his heart when the idea occurred to him.

He had missed his son more than he had ever expected to do. They had, after all, been separated by war or duty many times. But it was quite different when it was Bergil who went away and he who had stayed “home”.

And Ithilien was really beginning to feel like home. He hoped Bergil would come to feel that way as well--though somehow he was certain his son would choose to join the Tower Guard when he was old enough, and not the White Company.

He thought of Prince Faramir, and smiled. His liege could have chosen any of his men to deliver this message to Legolas. But Faramir had known how anxious Beregond had been, and had allowed him to volunteer.

Bergil’s letters had been erratic and curiously uninformative. They were often quite long and rambling, but they were filled with the sights the lad had seen and the people he had been among, and precious little about his son’s own self. Yet he also knew from the letter he had received from Targon that his boy had been ill--it had delayed their travel.

Still, he seemed to be well. And one thing his son had been proud of enough to boast about was learning to play the flute! He chuckled, and imagined the two of them together, as Bergil displayed his new skill.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, he would embrace his child again.

 





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