Chapter Eight- And So It Begins

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eomer just hunched over with his head in his hands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*          *          *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dear Miss, 

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

Sincerely, Gaviwyr, Captain of the King’s Guard

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

*          *          *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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