Chapter Nine- Bold Is Beautiful 

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

~          ~          ~

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

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

~          ~          ~

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

Did he not hear my horse? 

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

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

~          ~          ~

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

*          *          *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You suppose?  Have I anything to fear?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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