Chapter Sixteen- Minas Tirith

After two more days of very uncomfortable, silent riding, the party of four finally reached the outskirts of Minas Tirith.  As they rode closer and closer to the brilliant walls, the atmosphere within the group changed.  Eomer couldn’t hide the look of longing that shadowed his face as he came ever nearer to seeing his sister again.  Gaviwyr on the other hand looked like a child who was going to the spring festival for the first time.  His sharp brown eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of his comrades.  Olihre had a look of tired relief on his face.  The tension that had filled the group for the past two days was almost more than he could stand.  He could hardly wait to leave his horse for a few weeks and enjoy some time alone in the beautiful city.

Xanthe was the only one whose demeanor did not seem to lighten as they neared their destination.  She was very relieved that they had arrived safely, but she knew that arriving at the city did not mean that the awkwardness between herself and the King would lighten.  Olihre and Gaviwyr had somehow managed to make sure that Xanthe and Eomer were never left alone together for the last two days of the trip.  Xanthe was glad of this in a way, but she also knew that eventually she was going to have to resolve things with him.  She was quite sure that when they arrived back in Edoras the following month, she would find herself without a job; and as much as she understood why this would be necessary, she regretted it deeply. 

The four travelers and their five horses were within about one hundred yards of the main gate when they saw it opening.  All four of them squinted their eyes against the autumn sun and tried to make out who it was that was approaching them.  Gaviwyr was the first to recognize the tall elf, even before he had lowered his hood and revealed his long blond hair.

“Legolas!” Gaviwyr shouted, his arm extended in the traditional greeting of Rohan. 

Xanthe shaded her eyes with her hand as she tried to make out whether this elf had actually heard Gaviwyr from so far away.  It became apparent that he had when he turned to his much shorter companion and pointed with one hand while waving with another, all while maintaining a truly royal air.  Xanthe cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out who the smaller figure was.

Gaviwyr drew his horse along side of Xanthe’s and offered, “That is Gimli, son of Gloin.  He is one of Legolas’s dear friends…and a dwarf.”  Xanthe tried not to look surprised, but she couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows in question, which Gaviwyr returned with a playful shrug of his shoulders.  

Eomer urged his steed into a slight canter, eager to greet his friends.  He could see no others coming out of the gates, but he assumed that he would find his sister soon. Straightening his back and setting his jaw into a strong line he called, “Come then friends, let us make haste, I am weary of this road.”

Olihre chuckled softly.  He realized that Eomer was now trying to assume a more regal tone, perhaps worried that his sister or even Aragorn may not think him suited to be King of Rohan.  “Yes,” he replied more to himself than anyone, “I too am weary of this road.”

Xanthe and Gaviwyr rode in a square formation behind Eomer and Olihre.  As they neared they could see that Legolas and Gimli had been joined by a few guards, but none else who looked familiar.  When they were only a few yards away, Eomer loosed the ties on Legolas’s grey stallion and gave him an encouraging pat on the rump.  The stallion took off at a nearly breakneck speed, galloping toward the group at the gate as if it had wargs on its trail.  Xanthe watched with delight as the dwarf took fright and dove behind the tall elf.  The elf seemed to think this was hilarious; his musical laugh filled the air for what Xanthe could imagine to be leagues and leagues. 

“Those infernal beasts!” she could hear the dwarf sputtering as he was helped up by a guard.  Legolas meanwhile had held his hand out and the horse had come straight to him.  He was now caressing the horses muzzle as he whispered in its ear. 

“Hail, Prince Legolas!” Eomer saluted as he dismounted his horse and walked towards the gate.

“Hail, Eomer King!” Legolas returned in an amused voice.  “I trust your journey went well?”

“It did indeed,” Eomer said.  “It must be chance that you are here to meet us; I don’t believe we are expected until tomorrow.”

Legolas nodded, looking around for Gimli and spotting him standing defiantly away from the horses, close to the gate’s wall. “Not chance, only anxious foresight.  I asked the guards to let me know the minute they saw you coming, and I am pleasantly surprised to find you early, though I am not sure how you managed it.”

Eomer nodded, “I think I must give Gaviwyr credit for that.  He was so eager to get here that he suggested we cut through the Druadan forest!”

Gaviwyr snorted.  “Not through it, My King, just not so far around it!  There are other options you know!”

Legolas laughed and shook his head.  “There are, but only if you don’t mind sprinting the entire way.  That is not a place you want to be found idling in.”

Gaviwyr grinned and looked towards Xanthe.  “Well then we may as well have gone that way-- we have after all been sprinting the past two days!  In fact, if His Majesty doesn’t mind, I should like to give the credit to Xanthe for us being here early.  She set one of the hardest paces I have ever traveled.  If not for our pride, we would likely have asked her to slow down!”

“Indeed?” Legolas queried, turning his head towards the young woman who sat rather stiffly upon her mare.  “You must be Eomer’s healer.” He then turned to Olihre, “Unless it is you?”  

Olihre was trying desperately not to look bored.  “No My Lord, Xanthe is our healer.  I am her brother, Olihre.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you Olihre,” Legolas said, before turning to Xanthe and flashing a wondrous smile.  “And you mi’lady.  I thank you for getting my friends here safely AND quickly.”

Xanthe smiled, though inside she felt rather guilty.  She had actually managed to delay the group quite a bit when she rode off, upset, two mornings before.  “Of course, Your Highness.  It is after all my job, nothing more, nothing less.”

None in the group, not even the guards could have missed the iciness of Xanthe’s words, nor the uncomfortable look that Eomer shot her after she had uttered them.

Gaviwyr rolled his eyes and tried to retrain himself from lecturing the two.  He was really rather tired of the childishness of the whole situation.  “Legolas,” he interjected, “tell us, is your horse as you had hoped, or have we run him ragged?”

Legolas eyed his proud stallion, smiling when it threw back its head and neighed, almost as if it was aware that it was being spoken of.  “Curíl looks wonderful; though I am not sure he has enjoyed being reigned in on this trip.  I have always ridden him without restraints.”

Xanthe was surprised by this answer.  “He is your horse?”

Legolas nodded, scratching Curíl behind the ear, evoking a pleasured snort from his steed.  “I was given him by my father many years ago.  He has been my trusty steed since.  I imagine he was quite upset when I left him in Mirkwood before joining Elrond’s council.”

“Why did you?” Xanthe asked.

Legolas smiled, realizing that he was going to have to provide more complete answers in order to satisfy this curiously sharp woman.  “I knew that I was likely to be away for many years.  Curíl is a fine steed, but I hadn’t yet broken him in on long journeys.  I didn’t want to push him harder than necessary, as he was still very young at the time.”

Xanthe nodded, eyeing the horse.  “He did beautifully on this trip.  He should serve Lady Eowyn well, though I am surprised that you would part with him.”

Legolas looked at Eomer as he answered Xanthe’s question.  “Yes, well, if he didn’t mean so much to me, he wouldn’t be a proper gift, would he?”

Eomer smiled at this and held up his hand, as if trying to prevent any further conversation.  “I do hate to be abrupt, but I am very eager to see my sister.  Where is she?”

Legolas looked at one of the guards and asked him, “Have she and Faramir returned from their ride?”

The guard shook his head, “No, Your Highness, but they should be back any time now.”

Legolas turned back to Eomer with an apologetic look on his fair face.  “If you will follow me, we do have your quarters prepared.  Perhaps you can all wash up before they return.”

All in the group, even Xanthe, smiled at the thought of a warm bath.  “That would be wonderful,” Eomer said.  The group mounted their horses again-- with Gimli riding behind Legolas, as usual-- and set off up the streets, winding their way towards the palace.

When the group arrived they were separated and led by attendants to their various rooms.  Xanthe found that hers was in an entirely separate wing of the palace than were the three men’s.  Finally, something I can smile about.

*          *          *

About an hour and a half after Xanthe had first been shown to her room, she heard a knock at her door.  She got up from the edge of her bed, where she had been unpacking her travel bag.  The only clothing she had brought other than her riding clothes were a simple but well-made blue dress, and the red Elvish dress that her mother had given to her.  She hung these in the wardrobe to remove any wrinkles, and put the rest of her clothing in a beautiful mahogany bureau. 

When Xanthe opened the door she found Olihre, dressed in a finely made cloak and tunic, standing uncomfortably.  “Where on earth did you get those?” Xanthe asked; they definitely were not Olihre’s.

“Gaviwyr insisted I wear them.  He said that the clothing I brought was fine for travel, but not for the palace.”  Olihre rolled his eyes.  “I wasn’t aware that I was to be a fashion role-model as well as a chaperone.”

Xanthe giggled and pulled Olihre into her room.  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She asked, turning around and surveying the chamber with pride. 

Olihre nodded, “They certainly are generous.  I had expected that you and I would be housed in the servant’s quarters.  This is much grander than I am used to.”

Xanthe nodded, “I was expecting that too, but I guess we are considered guests, not servants.”

Olihre frowned and shook his head.  “No Xanthe, you forget, we are servants.  It will be much easier for all of us if you and I just lie low and not get involved in the affairs of His Majesty and the Captain.”

Xanthe was rather upset that Olihre would throw the past in her face so readily, but she did have to admit that he had a point.  “I know Oli, I shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in anything in the first place, I should have known better.”

Olihre nodded but dropped the stern look and smiled.  “It can’t be easy though, having two men fighting over you.”

Xanthe straightened her back.  “Gaviwyr is just angry that Eomer didn’t tell him about our kiss, that is all.  He’ll get over it soon and then both of them will forget I ever existed.”

Olihre shook his head in mock pity and flopped down on his sister’s bed.  “You really don’t get it, do you Xan?  I mean, you always tell me that you are socially backwards, but really, do you not see what is happening here?”

Xanthe growled and threw one of the plush silk pillows at her brother’s head.  “Oli, don’t make fun of me!  I AM socially backwards, and it is NOT funny.  It has done nothing but bring me pain, so if you don’t mind…”

Olihre threw the pillow back at his sister but this time he sat up and took her hand before she could retaliate.  “I’m sorry Xan, I really am.  It isn’t funny-- It’s just interesting that you don’t see it.”

Xanthe was beginning to become exasperated.  “See what?” she nearly yelled.

“Eomer thinks he is in love with you, I am sure you already know that, though I wouldn’t really know because you haven’t felt the need to confide in me.”  Olihre paused for a breath and Xanthe looked as if she were about to interrupt.  “Wait, let me finish.  Not only does Eomer fancy you, but his best friend does as well.  Gav thinks you can do better than Eomer, or at least that is what I over heard him muttering to himself.”

Xanthe was stunned but recovered quickly, unwilling to allow Olihre to use her vulnerability.  “Gaviwyr wouldn’t say something like that, he is loyal to Eomer.  But even if he did, just because he may think I deserve better doesn’t mean he wants me for himself.  You are too easily intrigued, Oli”

Olihre took a deep, dramatic breath and lay back again, putting his arms behind his head.  “Whatever you want to think Xan, but have you noticed that Gav and Eomer haven’t exactly been friendly to each other lately?”

Xanthe shook her head, unwilling to entertain thoughts that would give her any hope of happiness.  She couldn’t afford to expose herself again-- the pain of rejection was just too much.  “Why would you be telling me this Oli?  You did after all call the King an Orc, and Gaviwyr a daemon, did you not?”

Olihre nodded.  Why was he telling her this?  He certainly wasn’t trying to play matchmaker…was he?  “I don’t want you with Eomer, you already know that.  Gaviwyr though, he doesn’t threaten me so much.”

Xanthe let out an exasperated laugh and said, “Doesn’t threaten you?  So is it to be that anyone I associate with has to cater to your whims?”

Olihre grinned and nodded.  “Of course, I am your older brother.  It is my job to protect you.”

Xanthe stood and walked to her window, looking out at the courtyard below.  “And what are you protecting me from?”

Olihre shook his head, he honestly didn’t know.  “I only know that I don’t want to see you hurt.  You deserve the best, whoever it is.”  Olihre realized as he said the words that they were exactly the ones that he had heard Gaviwyr mutter a few days prior. 

Xanthe smiled and turned towards her brother.  “I appreciate your concern, as always.  Don’t become too invested in finding me a mate though, I fear it will only frustrate you, if not put you to sleep.”

Olihre laughed out loud and was about to commence in teasing his little sister but for a knock on the door.  “Come in!” he called.

The door opened a crack and Gaviwyr stuck his head in, not at all surprised at having heard Olihre’s voice, or at seeing him on Xanthe’s bed.  He smiled at Xanthe, who stood at the window, her face illuminated by the setting sun.  “Dinner will be served in an hour.  I gave Olihre some clothing; do you have need of any formal dinner wear?”

Xanthe shook her head, slightly embarrassed that she had not thought to change into one of her dresses, but rather had just put on another pair of traveling clothes.  “No, I have a dress.  I’ll look appropriate for dinner, don’t worry.”

Gaviwyr nodded, looking over to Olihre who was regarding him with a discerning eye.  “Anything wrong Oli?” Gaviwyr said, using his familiar name.

Olihre narrowed his eyes at Gaviwyr and smiled.  “Nothing, Gav.” he said with a falsetto voice.

Xanthe furrowed her brows and tried to make sense of the two men in her room.  She looked at Gaviwyr and noted his beautifully tailored leggings, not the usual khaki or brown color that Gaviwyr usually wore, but a light blue instead.  He wore a matching tunic, darker blue with light blue trimming.  His thick brown hair, which was usually pulled back, was now loose around his face, the waves combed and tamed with some sort of balm. 

Gaviwyr turned back to Xanthe and noticed that she was staring at him.  He was suddenly nervous, but determined not to show it.  “You think I should have kept my hair pulled back?” he said with his eyes looking ever so hopeful.

Xanthe smiled, she knew that he was teasing her.  “No, it looks decent.  I was just wondering how long you had to plead with Legolas to convince him to help you with it.”

Gaviwyr feigned hurt and pulled his hands to his heart.  “I had to promise him my firstborn.” he said without a hint of a smile. 

Xanthe however had not missed the ever present twinkle in his eye.  “Well then you had better be off!”

“Off to what?” Gaviwyr laughed.

“Ladies don’t woo themselves,” Xanthe insisted.  “I know elves are immortal, but I am not sure Legolas is going to want to wait as long as it may take for you to acquire a firstborn, not at the rate you are going anyway.”

Instead of the smile she expected to see on Gaviwyr’s strong face, Xanthe instead found a pensive look.  “I hope that wasn’t too much…” she began, thinking that somehow she had managed to cross a line with Gaviwyr that she hadn’t even known existed. 

“No,” Gaviwyr assured her, “You have just gotten me to thinking, that’s all.”  With that he backed up and exited the room, calling to them that he would be back shortly to escort them to dinner.

When he had left, Xanthe turned to Olihre and gave him a questioning look.  Olihre only laughed and hopped up off of the bed.  “Ask yourself this Xan-- Are you willing to give Legolas your firstborn child?”  With that Olihre walked out the door.  “Get changed, I’ll be back before Gav is.”

Xanthe groaned and threw herself onto her bed, her emotions doing battle between themselves, leaving Xanthe very tired, and very