Chapter Fifteen- Regret

Olihre left to join Gaviwyr at the river, reluctantly leaving Xanthe and Eomer to themselves.  As he approached, he saw Gaviwyr sitting on the bank with his legs folded in front of him, his hands holding his head, and his shoulders slumped over.

“You act like a jealous lover, you know?” Olihre called as he approached.

Gaviwyr had heard Olihre coming and was ready for his biting sarcasm.  “Better than a jealous brother?” It was more of a question than an answer.

Olihre was surprised to find himself smiling.  “A protective brother.” he started.  “Xanthe is not as strong as she seems; she is too fragile to be tossed around by the King.”

Gaviwyr’s loyalty instantly flared, but died down quickly when he remembered why he was at the river in the first place.  “Yes, well, I would speak to Eomer of this if indeed he would share any information with me in the first place.”

“What happened that has you so upset?”

Gaviwyr hesitated, pondering the response any information might bring from Olihre.  “All I know is I watched Eomer leave his bed not long after we retired last night.  He walked towards the river, and returned quite some time later.”

“So?” Olihre knew where this was going, but wanted all the details he could get out of Gaviwyr.

“So,” Gaviwyr continued emphatically, “he was holding your sisters’ hand as they approached.”

Olihre was not happy to hear this, though he had assumed it to be the case based on the display he had seen earlier at camp.  He thought over his emotions for a moment before turning calmly toward Gaviwyr.  “You want her for yourself, don’t you?”

Gaviwyr shook his head vehemently. “No!” he lied.  “You misunderstand me.  It is not the matter of your sister and Eomer being together that upset’s me, it is the fact that Eomer somehow thinks he has to hide it from me…I just can’t understand that.”

Olihre nodded in understanding as he sat down a few feet from Gaviwyr.  “Do you think anything happened?”

Gaviwyr shook his head, not entirely sure why he was about to defend the man that upset him so at the moment.  “Eomer would never do anything to compromise Xanthe’s virtue.  He was nearly asleep last night when he arose suddenly, as if he remembered something important.  I am sure he went to check on her.  After all, we did leave her to clean up, alone.”

Olihre sighed, not wanting to let the King off so easily.  “Still, something has obviously happened, whether a declaration of love or a mere handshake, they have made some sort of contact.”

Gaviwyr nodded absentmindedly.  He was trying desperately not to picture Xanthe and Eomer together-- for some reason it bothered him.  “Your point?”

Olihre rolled his eyes knowingly.  “I would rather not have my sister with Eomer, whether he is a noble man or not.  Even if we dismiss all that has already happened, I think that the only thing that could come of a relationship between them is sorrow.  That is the last thing Xanthe needs.”

Gaviwyr smiled.  He knew exactly what Olihre was getting at.  Eomer was a busy man-- a King even.  He had so many duties and responsibilities now, and they sometimes seemed to overwhelm him.  Gaviwyr had a hard enough time finding opportunities during the week in which to relax with his best friend and he could imagine Eomer’s wife becoming very lonely.  “She deserves better than that.”

Olihre arched his eyebrows in surprise and Gaviwyr grimaced as he realized that he had said the last sentence aloud.  Trying to cover for himself he quickly added, “I mean…that is…your sister deserves to be with someone who makes her happy.  Whether it is Eomer or someone else, I suppose it is her decision.”

Olihre nodded in resignation.  “Yes, it is her decision, but it is also her penance to pay if things do not work out.  I have tried to intervene, but she will not let me, not anymore.  I suppose she is grown up now.”

Gaviwyr nodded, picturing a very grown-up Xanthe in his mind.  “I suppose she has.”

*          *          *

Xanthe rode away from camp a fast as she could.  She could already feel the frustrating tears on her cheeks.  “Stop it!” she yelled aloud.  “Stop crying!”  Then to herself, You knew this was going to happen!  You set yourself up!

Xanthe could feel her horse tensing under her.  Her yelling had made the horse nervous.  She reached her hand down as they galloped and stroked her neck.  “Easy girl, just take me away from here.” 

Xanthe rode across the rolling plains for quite some time, before finally stopping at a small stream to allow her horse to drink.  She slid off of the mares back and collapsed into the grass, allowing her eyes to close as the sun warmed her face.  She listened to her own raspy breath as she struggled to control it.  Her eyes burned with the salty remnants of tears.  She heard her stomach growl and smiled to herself.  It was not a happy smile, but rather one of a person who has accepted their bleak fate.  She would have to go back soon.  She knew that leaving the camp for long would not only be dangerous and stupid, but it would be a burden to the others.  And above all else comes duty, she thought sarcastically.     

Xanthe opened her eyes when she felt cold drops of water splashing on her face.  Her gray mare stood above her, its wet muzzle dripping.  She stood and wiped her face with her cloak.  “I’ll need all of your insistence to get me back to camp,” she said to the horse.  As if in reply, the horse shook its head and took a step towards Xanthe, who gently mounted and urged her forward again.  “Onward to regret,” she said with a shaky voice.

*          *          *

Eomer had tried to keep busy as he waited for Olihre and Gaviwyr to return from the river.  He knew they would be expecting an explanation and he really wasn’t quite sure what to say.  “Xanthe and I kissed last night.”  As he said the words aloud he was surprised to find that they were not the ones he feared to say.  “I have hurt her,” he said aloud.  Yes, those were the words that haunted him.  Not only would he have to explain this to Olihre, her protective older brother, but to Gaviwyr, his trusted friend, whom he knew also cared for Xanthe.  “I have hurt her, though I am not sure how it happened.”

“What did you say to her?”

Eomer turned to see Gaviwyr walking towards camp, with Olihre not far behind.  He faltered for only a moment before replying, “Nothing, that is the problem.  I should have reassured her, but I didn’t.” Eomer looked pleadingly into his friends eyes.  “I was confused.  I didn’t know what I was allowed to say, so I said nothing.”

Olihre furrowed his brow.  “What do you mean?  What couldn’t you say?” 

Eomer’s first reaction was to be on the offense, but as he looked at the boy he could see that he was not angry, merely concerned.  “Xanthe asked that we keep everything…I mean…” Eomer wasn’t sure how to phrase the next part, so he blurted out, “We kissed, at the river last night.  Actually, she kissed me…I think.  Anyway, afterwards, she asked that we keep it a secret.  She didn’t want you to be angry.” Eomer raised his eyebrows expectantly at Olihre who had his eyes narrowed into menacing slits.

“Why would I be angry!” Olihre said, laughing.  “Oh, that’s right, I love my sister and don’t want her to be hurt!”  Eomer started to interject but Olihre held up his hand.  “No My King, please, let me finish!  I don’t think you understand me.  You suppose that I am an immature boy who has seen fit to hate you no matter what happens, all due to an unfortunate event in the past.  That is not the case, no matter how much you would love to use it as a scapegoat.  I do not hold against you anything that has happened in the past.  It is what has happened since then that I cannot abide!”

“What have I done that is so horrible?  I have been nothing but a gentleman!”

Olihre turned in a wide circle, dramatically letting his arms fly freely around his body.  “Where is my sister now?”

Eomer knew he was beat.  “I do not know.”

Olihre could not stop now, he wanted to drive his point home.  “And why did she leave?”

“I hurt her.”

“Through any fault of her own?” Olihre pressed.

Eomer grimaced and turned to face the plains.  “No!  Of course not!  What do you want from me?”

Olihre walked towards the King, lowering his voice and dropping his shoulders.  “I want you to think carefully before you involve my sister in your personal life.”  Olihre’s voice was calm and thoughtful.  “She already has enough to deal with without being thrust into your unsettled life.”

“I cannot help my life being unsettled!” Eomer exclaimed, turning to facing Olihre.  “I was made King without knowing anything about the responsibilities!  Theodred was supposed to be King!  I never paid attention; I didn’t want to be King!  I don’t want this ‘unsettled’ life, but it is what I have been given.  Does that mean I should never be happy?  Never be able to find love?”

Olihre shook his head slowly.  “No, of course not.  I only mean to say that you should figure things out in your life before you throw my sister into the midst of it.”

Eomer nodded.  How had this all happened?  One moment he was happily thinking of a beautiful woman and the next he is facing her angry brother.  “I will certainly consider all that you have said.  May I just say one thing more?”

Olihre nodded. 

“Xanthe is upset right now because I told her that our encounter at the river was a mistake.  She is not upset because I am the King or because I have more responsibility than I know what to do with-- only because I am bad with words, and even worse with emotions.”

Olihre nodded, placing a hand on Eomer’s shoulder.  “Which is precisely why now would be a good time to re-evaluate everything, before you become more involved.”

Eomer turned to Gaviwyr, who was looking at his own feet, a confused look on his face. 

“I understand,” he said simply.

*          *          *

Gaviwyr felt horrible.  He knew that he was supposed to be a friend to Eomer-- a support and a trusted advisor, but instead of helping him he had stayed quiet, hoping that Eomer would yield to Olihre.

What I am thinking?  Even if Eomer does stop pursuing her, I can’t just waltz in and take over.  Xanthe wants Eomer, not me.  I am sure Olihre would rather she be with an overwhelmed King than an unrefined Army Captain.  Gaviwyr knew that he could never betray Eomer; he would never forgive himself.

Gaviwyr continued in his thought as they three men cleaned up camp, waiting for Xanthe to come back.  He was folding her bedroll back up when he found a small leather-bound book, shoved between the blankets.  Curiously but with much discretion he opened the cover.  ‘My Thoughts’ it said on the first page.  Gaviwyr knew that he should put it back at once, but like Eomer at the river that night, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by a desire to continue. 

The first few pages were filled with descriptions of the lands she and her family had traveled through on their way to Edoras.  A few pages later she began to comment on Olihre’s sullen attitude.  Still a few pages more and she began to write about the mysterious man who Olihre had told her about.  Gaviwyr chuckled as he read Xanthe’s guilty confession. 

‘I must admit, though I know Mum and Olihre would flog me, I am rather intrigued by this man from the river.  Why did he watch me?  Why didn’t he come forward?’

Gaviwyr read ahead to a later entry.

“A King!  I know I should be upset, furious even.  I certainly shouldn’t be working with him.  Yet I can’t help but be excited about this opportunity.  It is such a wonderful experience for me, but even if it wasn’t, there is something about them…they are so different.  The King is so noble and thoughtful, and Gaviwyr is so funny.  I feel as if I could sit and talk with him for years on end and he would never run out of things to say that entertain me. 

Gaviwyr felt his heart beating a bit faster than normal.  She barely mentioned me, he chided himself, upset that he was letting such a small thing excite him.  And yet, she did say she that I entertain her; that is something to be considered.  Gaviwyr flipped to the next page, hoping to find another mention of himself.  Instead he found a poem, scrawled hastily, as if the writer was afraid that the words would disappear if she did not write them down.

The evergreen is strong

She bends to no will

The winds cannot claim her

Her roots hold her still

Through flood and through drought

She stalwartly stands

Then one day she falls

To ruinous hands

These hands mean to maim her

To tear her apart

These hands are so selfish

Caring not for her heart

The evergreen has reigned

For centuries past

But where is she now?

Does life end so fast?

I tell you it does

In the blink of an eye

All I view now

Someday will die

Will anyone know me?

Remember my face?

Or am I forgotten?

Lost in the race

As the evergreen stood

In sureties hold

I too have wandered

Lost in the cold

And just as the evergreen will see her demise

I’ll falter also

Lone death as my prize

Gaviwyr felt as though someone were kneeling on his chest; he could barely get a breath out.  How can one so beautiful feel so much pain?  He was even more upset when he realized that this poem was written only two days earlier.  Are we not enough?  Do we not comfort her?  Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him and he quickly closed the book and shoved it back between the blankets.

Olihre stood behind Gaviwyr, wondering what it was that had kept him so still for the past few minutes.  “What are you doing?” he questioned.

Gaviwyr quickly began rolling the blankets into a tight bundle.  “Just wondering…do you think she’ll come back soon?”

Before Olihre could answer, Eomer shouted, “Here she comes!”  All three men stood to meet Xanthe as she rode quickly into camp, noting that she stared fixatedly at the ground and had no expression on her face. 

Looking around, Xanthe saw that all three men were staring at her sheepishly.  She felt like such a fool, but all she could do was express annoyance.  “Are we going to stand here or ride to Minas Tirith?  We have only another two days ride.”

Gaviwyr realized how difficult this must be for Xanthe, and he quickly turned and began preparing his horse.  “Yes, we are nearly there.  Soft beds and good food await us my friends, let’s not dawdle.  Xanthe, will you set our pace today?”

Xanthe couldn’t help but smile.  Gaviwyr had a way of making awkward situations seem only half as bad.  “I would be happy to,” she nodded.  Setting the pace meant that she could ride in the front, alone.  No condescending advice from her brother; no meaningless apology from the King.  “Let’s go then.”

As the party rode off, at a rather quick pace, not a word was spoken.  All three men watched the woman who led them.  One watched her with worry in his eyes, knowing that she would have many important decisions ahead of her.  Another watched her with regret, knowing that he had wilted a beautiful flower.  And still another watched her with hope.  She smiled at me, he thought.  Maybe I am not such a lost cause to her.