Chapter Twelve- Of Elves and Men 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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