WEST WIND OVER EDORAS

Disclaimer: The characters and places here are not mine, all but a few are Tolkein's genius. If it's in LOTR, Silmarillion, Hobbit or Unfinished tales it Tolkien' s. If not it's mine.
No profit in this but the fun of writing and getting to play in Middle earth for a while.


CHAPTER 19: A GIFT OF GRACE


ROWANNEN:

This time I do remember to turn the key in the door, and we are alone. He cradles my head in his hands as I look up at him. In his eyes I see love, care, gratitude and need. Can he see the same in mine? To be with him again is overwhelming. I feel faint and cannot speak. I simply return his touch; my fingers stroke down his cheek, his jaw and the contact brings gentle sparks to my fingertips. We gaze at each other silently for many moments, closing the space and time between us, coming together again, melding our minds and experience so we can be one again. How I have missed those eyes. How have I lived without them? He lowers his head and kisses my brow very softly, almost like a kiss in a dream, hardly felt.

“I was shocked to find you, meleth nin, I am sure you understand. When I needed you to be safe you were kneeling amongst death on the bloodiest battlefield of the age. Why did you ride here Rowannen?”

There is truth and a little defiance in my tone as I answer him. “I had nowhere else to go. We promised on the mountainside in Rohan that our path lay together. My life had changed and was bound to yours. Then you left. There was nothing for me to return to. I had to ride East. ”

“I could not take you on the Paths of the Dead. You know that. I also know how hard it was for you to trust me and to wait. You understand this quest and my love of Estel. It does not lessen my pledge to you. I simply do not want to draw you into danger.” His fingers stroke my face as he speaks.

“I have survived it and I am here now.” I reply, casting away from thought the danger I rode through, my despair in the battle. It was worth enduring, to be with him again. He is all I need.

“And I cannot pretend that I am not glad of you here,” he answers.

Then he holds me safe in the strength of his arms and presses his temple against mine. At the same instant we both whisper, “I love you,” into each other’s ears. The desire to hold this moment forever keeps us still. He smells of the earth, with traces of dust and blood. In his hair a scent I cannot place, a tang of salt and fresh wind that speaks to me of wild freedom. How strange. Then time moves on and with a barely imperceptible sigh he lifts his head.

“Why is your hair bound thus?” he asks and begins to unfasten the fabric band at the back of my neck. He lets it fall to the floor and starts on the round-headed pins, placing them on the table one by one. I see him smile at the braids as they are revealed. As he works I explain the reasoning behind it, Inara’s wish that I should conform and my own agreement to abide by Gondorian rules while partaking of their care and hospitality. He nods in agreement though his eyebrows raise.

“An honourable course to take in deference to your hosts customs. I wager though that now, with Imrahil and his men from Dol Amroth, more of the Rohirrim and elves within their city, the citizens may have to relax their rules and inhibitions.” He laughs quietly. “The twins will find it amusing and also I would not like to hear the oaths issued if anyone asks Gimli to cover his hair.” We smile at each other then, eyes gleaming with a hint of mirth. I am glad of his ability to find a vein of humour in the direst of circumstances. “I think they just require it of the women, though it seems unfair.” I tell him with a laugh. His eyes soften again and glaze with a mist of desire and awe as he discards the last pin and my hair tumbles down. Almost greedily of their own volition his hands run through it, fingers twining down the locks straying between his fingers like uncoiled ribbons.

“I would love you, meleth nin, and I think you need me as much as I need you, is that not so?” he queries. Despite the nature of his statement his voice is quiet not lustful.
“It is so.” I answer him. I feel as if every cell in my body is crying out for him as I bring my lips to his. Oh, this first kiss after so long. The world spins away, streaming past us with such speed I cannot comprehend it and we are together in a space apart, a place of our own making that exists only when our lips touch. I cling to him, eyes closed as his lips move with mine and his tongue gently explores my own. I hear him moan softly and the vibrations thrill in my mouth before he slowly pulls away and the world steadies into focus again.

“Rowannen, I need to wash first,” he tells me and bends to unlace and step out of his boots. As he begins to strip away his garments I show him the rain chamber, operate the handle to activate the flow. He smiles as he discards his leggings. “Join me, there. I need you close to me now.” He is thoroughly wet by the time I have undressed and step under the spray with him. The droplets tickle as they cascade over my shoulders and I laugh. I had thought in my desperation that never would I stand naked with him again, yet here we are. So simple. So incredibly special.

“It is good is it not?” I ask, lifting my hands through the shower, feeling it run down my arms. He returns my laughter and pours soft soap onto his scalp and squeezes it through his fall of sleek dripping hair.

“Yes, it is clever, serves a purpose and is warm, but it is still feels dead. It does not sing and speak. It is devoid of it’s own life. Maybe because that life is lessened in controlled service to man. One day if the Valar grant us a future, I will show you places to bathe filled with beauty and wonder, where water falls laughing over rocks and gives energy to all in Arda. The power of Ulmo imparted into all that lives.”

I need that hope. I look up at him, wanting to believe it will be so. He rinses the suds from his hair and his hands reach for mine and lift them to his body. He holds my fingers against his shoulders for a heartbeat or two and then allows me freedom to touch, as I will. I slide them down, following the flow of the water across his chest, such perfectly shaped muscles, so smooth. I bend my head into the spray and kiss there. My lips press onto wet skin as my hands stray across pert nipples, teased to pointed hardness by the falling water, sweeping lower still onto rippled abdomen muscles rinsed clean by rivulets. Out to his hips, my palms trace hard bone blending into taut thighs, strong and straight.

He lifts the handle and the flow of water ceases. All that can be heard is the droplets falling from our hair and our quickening breathing. He strokes down my arms and bends to lick the moisture trickling down my breasts and then sucks it from my nipples. I gasp at this suddenly renewed intimacy. When he stands tall again my hands slide between his thighs, upward to cup his firm sac and then I curl my fingers around his hardening length reverently. He kisses me as his fingers slip into the warmth between my legs and stroke, the tips dipping teasingly into my body. I love him so.

“Come to me, now.” he says and he wraps one arm around my back and the other beneath my buttocks and lifts me. My legs snake around his hips and lock together as he stands firm and steady and lowers me over his erection. Aaaaaah, by all that lives and breathes, there is nothing to compare to this. I want to shout and sing and praise as my body sinks onto him and sheathes him inside me, but there are no words to describe it and my mind has already lost all sense of speech.

My arms around him, hands holding tight to his long back, I watch his chin rise as his head tilts backward with the ecstasy, his eyes close and he takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly in a sigh ending with a sweet groan. “Oh Lirimaer.”

It sounds like a prayer. I kiss his throat, then my head falls onto his shoulder and his head touches mine. Our streaming hair mixes together like two rivers joining, flowing from different coloured earth. He moves, lifting me slightly, rocking himself deep with his hips, finding a rhythm, his feet planted firmly on the stone floor.

I am gasping already. He is all that is holding me. My skin against his. My face in his wet hair. I am completely his. I am filled with him. My clit exposed and rubbing softly against the faint fuzz of gold at the root of his elfhood. I am going to come, so soon. I want to tell him but I can’t. He knows anyway. My thighs shiver as it builds rapidly and then pure pleasure fills my mind. My body pulses inside and quivers over him, on and on and on, tiny noises escape my lips, chase after each other and disappear.

“Gwilwileth” he whispers against my ear as he stills his movement and lets my breathing recover. He lifts me free of him then, steadies me as my shaking legs find the ground. “We should continue this in bed. Even my stamina may give out, loving in such a fashion after battle.” It is then I hear the edge of deep tiredness in his tone and remember that what he has endured these last days will have been dread and dangerous and taxing. I appreciate his continuing strength.

I hand him a rough towel and sit against the pillows wrapping and drying my hair in another as I watch him. He is stunningly beautiful as he walks across the room, long legs, hard and toned. His erection pointing past his navel, swaying slightly as he walks, arms raised, rubbing the water from his hair. He shakes it around him as it dries and as he turns to sit on the bed I stare at perfect, wide shoulder- blades, his narrow waist and curved firm buttocks. Such immense gratitude to have him here with me washes over me. I stroke his back, his skin beneath my fingers like warm silk stretched over rock. He swivels and lifts his legs onto the bed, lies beside me, kisses down my breast and my stomach and nuzzles gently in the still damp amber curls below. “You smell gorgeous,” he whispers. “Let me.” His tongue licks at the top of the slit and he glances up and sees the gleam of excitement in my eyes for I feel his lips smile against my soft skin and a dancing light brightens the blue of his own before he lowers his lashes and pursues his intent.

“Legolas, what of your need?” I manage to articulate as I open my legs for him and let his head move between. “Soon,” he murmurs. “You need this. I need this. ‘Twill be all the better for it afterward.” His breath flutters against me. I cannot control myself. I already am moaning aloud and my breath is ragged as his tongue flickers inside me and his fingers ghost down my thighs. By the time he laps over my clitoris I am right on the edge. It takes only a few langorous licks and a moment of sweet suction from his lips and I am leaping against him, crying out, my body curling toward him, my fingers in his hair as the orgasm rushes through me like thunder. I fall back on the pillow and he rises, threads his fingers through my own and enters me expertly without guidance, slowly and tenderly whilst I am still shaking in the aftermath.

“Now meleth nin. Now we can really give each other what we both need.” His voice is tender in my ear.

LEGOLAS:

At last we are alone. For how long I do not know, but we must treasure every second. She comes to my arms and my eyes gaze into the green of her own. How I have missed them. I bend and kiss her brow gently. How can she be so strong and so fragile at the same time? A mystery of mortality. My lips are near her ear, so curved, I repress the urge to bite it in the remnants of my adrenaline fuelled battle lust and whisper instead. “I love you,” as she does to me and our voices mingle. By the Valar what is this I have become involved in? It is magic. Will I be worthy?

I bring my mind back to the present and begin to free her hair. Why has she fashioned this? I ask, she explains and I free it, as it should be. My shieldmaiden, again wild and free and unfettered. Kissing her again takes us to such height. I could never tire of this. I need to love her, and she needs me, but I reek intolerably. I must bathe. Will she wait?

She smiles agreement, shows me the rain chamber and when she comes to me naked under the spray, I feel it would take little to make me weep with gratitude despite my elvish lack of tears. Instead we wash and talk and then I need her touch, her fingers on my body are sublime, my lips on hers better and when she travels down and then upward across my sex I am lost. I lift her to me and lower her down onto my aching need, my essence.

Oh Iluvatar, this is your song indeed. She wants me as I want her and she rises to orgasm with the immediate beauty of it, almost as soon as the pleasure thrills through me at her encompassing my flesh, my soul. I let the ecstasy flow through me as she shivers around me. I wish I could continue this, fierce and fast and strong and gain a warriors quick release from battle and dread, but I cannot. My strength is limited after so many challenging days and even so I could not. She needs more from me and I love her. I set her down, her eyes glowing. She hands me a towel.

She is simply beautiful, there against white pillows, drying the hair that snakes all around her. Creamy curves, slender legs, dark amber curls where they join. Golden freckles along her arms catch the dying sunlight from the window as she raises them to pat at her skin with the towel. I shake out my hair and sit on the bed. As I dry my body she strokes with a tender loving, yet sensuous touch down my back. If I was not still hard as rock her touch would make me so again. I turn to lie with her and kiss down the edge of a delightful breast, down the soft rise of her stomach, her skin still warm from bathing and the flush of orgasm. The scent of her is delightful as my face brushes damp curls and my nose rests against her. I can feel desire rising in her, such urgency for my touch. “Let me.” She opens for me, questioning my need also….
This first, my love. You are already so close. So close, you tighten like a bowstring as I slide my tongue into your honeyed secret, so close, in and out, curling and thrusting. Oh Rowannen, were it not for my own need I would spend the night here. I can feel the ache on your skin as my fingers drift like the breeze over your thighs. So come for me again, before we join closer. Only a few laps of your precious bud and you are poised on the brink. Mine to pleasure. One swift suck, warm lips inside yours as I lick and you are there. Pressing hard against my mouth legs drawn up, your body curled toward me, fingers grasping my hair as your moans peak with the power of your release and die away….

She is sighing and trembling still when I move upward and thread my fingers into her own as I enter her body. I can wait no longer for my hardness to find it’s way deep into her softness. Oh how I need her now. Her eyes flutter open, full of wonder. I move as far as I can go and then sweep out a way then back in, again. Such pleasure, such beauty, arcing along my nerve endings through every part of me, even my scalp shivers with it as each hair rises separately, the tips of my toes tickle with it. She strokes her fingers against mine, matches herself to this gentle rhythm.

“I wish to love you slowly, to banish all our pain will take care, it is not to be rushed. Hush lirimaer now, relax and let love fill us, let it calm us, let it heal us.”

The ecstasy coils up my spine in spirals as I kiss her. I do not let her lips free, she tastes clean and fragrant and her mouth is soft. I let my tongue stroke across the smooth pearl of her teeth, suck carefully when the tip of hers returns the compliment. I feel her mind joining with mine and she moves gently at my pace, understanding now. Her fingers leave mine and stroke up my arms, moving the fall of my hair which swings slowly as I thrust a little and she touches my ears so lightly, rubs the lobes between her finger and thumb and then travels up the outer edge along the rim to the tip and she plays there as the pleasure shocks shoot through me. She tilts herself a little as my stroke runs into her and the point of feeling as we touch together at the deepest most intimate place is a gift of grace. On and on, drawing back a little then finding it again, over and over. Sometimes our eyes meet, sometimes they close with the sweetness of it, always we are together, feelings mingled.

The fear is melted in our warmth, the loneliness disappears as we become one again. The hurts evaporate in the sensuous air about our skin. Dread is banished. I kiss her again as I rise to such a height of pleasure that I know I have reached the point of no return. “Amin mela lle.” I whisper as I rise a little from her. I will bring her with me. Resting on one hand, I stroke across her breasts with the other, worshipping them with my fingers, cupping the curves, circling the nipples and brushing them until they are so very peaked. She is moaning softly again, one hand around me stroking up and over my buttock in time with my movement, the other drifts across my chest, strays to my nipple and fastens there. The pleasure is a bright light in my mind now and I can control the furious sensations of my elfhood as it swells inside her for very little longer. Too much, too high. Only one way to go.

“Kiss me when I come.” I manage to gasp as I feel her arch toward me and we both begin to shake with bliss. She opens her lips for me and my mouth is on hers searching for heaven. She swallows my cries as I fly over the edge, toppling and pulsing and letting it all go, giving her all my feelings, all of me. She takes me, holds me tight and her body is squeezing about me, clutching me in affinity with the spurting wet heat of my release. So much to give, so much to let go of, I think I will never stop and she loves my mouth with hers the whole time through.

I am still moaning and gasping when it is over and I soften and slip from her. Her breath is caught in short sobs. “Las, Las,” the first time she has shortened my name, used this endearment, Leaf. I settle onto the pillow next to her and fold her into my arms and her head rests against my chest, her bright hair, dry now, tangling over my arms and she cries. The tears start to flow. I can feel them trickle on my skin. Her shoulders shudder. I hold her tight.

She cries for a long time. We slide under the sheet, pull the thick blue coverlet over us and make a warm haven. Her legs twine through mine and she presses close.

She tries to speak. “I am sorry,” she says, but the sobs take hold again and her voice is lost in the effort of catching her breath. I stroke her hair and her back, dry the tears with the edge of the sheet and let it happen.

“Shhss, it is alright now. We are here. We are safe.”

Gradually the emotional relief ebbs into the night, following the fulfilment of our bodies release. She finally falls asleep cocooned in my arms and I follow her into the dreamless dark of sheer exhaustion.


ROWANNEN:

When I wake wrapped in his arms wonder washes over me. Not only for the reason we are together again, but because I have never seen him asleep before. Previous to this day he has stayed awake after I slept and risen before or with me. I stare transfixed.

He looks so young asleep, almost as young as I. I try to envisage how he would have looked as a child. It is hard to imagine the years he has lived through. His skin is so smooth, unlined, and his lashes fan across his cheekbones like the spread of hawk wings. His chest rises and falls lightly and rhythmically as I move my hand across his body. His arms are strong as they hold me. I thrill to the feel of his long legs twined with my own and immediately desire for him stirs in the depths of my mind, though his sex lies slumbering softly still against my skin. I touch the pale silk of his hair where it falls across me. I bring sections of its length and pull it over my cheek with my fingers, explore its scent as I bury my nose in it. The wild tang has gone from his hair, he smells now of leaves again and the earth after rain, fresh and wonderful. So beautiful and clean with a trace of musk hinting at hidden power. I am staring at his face and holding his hair when he opens his eyes. Just for a fleeting instant there is a vivid flash of blue, hardness and light coming from another place entirely and then he smiles at me, dark pupils swallow me up and sparkles of pleasure flash back at me.

“Legolas.” His name on my lips is a precious sound. Though we do not need words in truth here, they only embellish and confirm the meaning between us. We need only our eyes. Our gaze is woven together like the threads in some epic tapestry, each colour and skein a part of the whole and inseparable. Alone, nothing but a thread, together a picture of the universe. He moves closer and kisses me, serving to heighten my desire. I feel him rise to life against me.

“Last night you called me Las,” he whispers against my lips. I nod, remembering calling out in passion and release. For a moment I am worried I have overstepped some boundary, something unspoken that only elves know, a special name that only his family or elven lovers such as the twins can have the privilege of being party to, but his movement against me and the soft tones of his voice convince me otherwise. His hands are caressing me, taking such pleasure in my nearness and I know it meant much to him.

“What can I call you?” he murmurs as he kisses across my eyes, soothing the heat and slight swelling from my surfeit of tears. “Besides, Meleth nin, Gwilwileth, Lirimaer.”

“My nephew and niece call me Ro.” I tell him, a little breathless as he hardens and presses into the soft flesh of my stomach.

“I cannot call you that, Gwilwileth, ‘Tis our name for Elrohir. It is not fitting, nor sweet enough to describe you.”

I pause, thinking back into the past, to half remembered endearments, to a time when I was as perfectly loved as I ever had knowledge of and all was safe but new.
“When I was tiny and my parents alive they and my siblings called me Anna.” I tell him quietly. Surprised that such a memory has come to me now.

“Anna,” he repeats. “ The elvish word “anna” from our high language Quenya means give or ‘gift’,” he says thoughtfully. “I feel like that about you, meleth. That you are a precious gift that has been given to me to treasure. Anna.” He begins to nuzzle his lips against my neck and the tip of his tongue flicks my ear and slips inside following the curves. His hand slides down my side, tickles across to my stomach and circles my navel, back over my hip and down my thigh. I can hear soft moans and am not sure if they are mine or his. It does not matter either way. His legs move a little, spreading mine and he slips between my thighs, hot and hard for me. His fingers are touching my face, easing the pain around my eyes, making my cheeks smile, feathering my lips with unbearable lightness. He smiles at me.

“Have fun with me now, quickly,” he commands, his eyes laughing and joyous, confirming for me that waking to my body in his arms was the most wonderful thing he could wish for. Happiness escalates in my heart as he pushes into me, fast and furious, giving me no time to adjust. Somewhere below his urgency is tender love, but he gives it no time to blossom as he drives purposefully into my body, leaving me gasping, stunned but exhilarated, as he pounds onward. Oh too much, I cannot take him, I cannot. He leaves me no space to open for his entry, to feel him grow within me. My eyes widen with the shock of him so deep, so suddenly and he smiles his pleasure back at me, giving me no gentle encouragement but demanding my participation in the immediacy of his love. I feel my back curve and my body surge against him, responding to the fast heat and burning forcefulness of him, which carries me upward. I really think I cannot breathe and grip his shoulders, my fingernails digging into his flesh as I cry out, half in protest, half in unbearable lust.

He is practically laughing as he surges on. “Think of it as a race, meleth, try and beat me, to find your pleasure if you can before I reach mine, a game to play to give us joy and memories to carry with us this day.” He is not going to wait for me if I do not, not this time. Paradoxically to compete against him in the manner of all other winning is not the way to reach success here. The way to win this game is to surrender to him totally and utterly and I do, letting myself fall back in his arms and giving into the power of him and the sensations he can give me. My body melts, my limbs fade as he takes me mercilessly. It reminds me of when we galloped bareback across the plain together, urging each other to greater speed. Here, the more I yield the more he takes and the faster we go. I am so overcome I do not even recognise my climax at first as it sweeps over me and I yelp in surprise as my body shakes. It is if I am blown apart, raining down in pieces. He pulls my hips to him as close as I can be and in two more thrusts I feel him too explode within me, pushing me further with the force of his rapid ejaculation.

When he recovers he does laugh, seeing me breathless, runs his fingers up and down my spine to centre me again. Kisses the tip of my nose and pulls out of me slowly.

LEGOLAS:

This is good. Such a beautiful thing to wake to her eyes searching mine, the feel of her body still so closely entwined with me and my name on her lips. I rise to the occasion, remembering our sweet love before we slept and wanting so much to repeat the pleasure. How much time have we to spend? It is well past dawn. We have slept long. Needfully I know, but there is now less time to tarry. Last night she sobbed her bitter sorrow away. Will she respond to some joyful play now, as an antidote to that. It is worth trying, for I know she wants me again. We speak of our intimacy and then I take her, hard and fast for the first time. The first time I have been anything but carefully gentle with her. She is stunned by it, but not unwilling. I am a little concerned for her reaction, but her eyes though astonished are swimming with lust for me and give me the impetuous to strive onward. Yes take me meleth nin, now. I encourage her to play, to take me as I wish and she does, shocked but eager. Oh Eru, yes, she will, she can and does come before me, so responsive, her body racing forward before her mind. I am laughing as I reach my orgasm with nothing else in my thought but the force of it and the pure simple joy.
“Mmmmmm. Hannon lle, hiril nin.” I grin and bow slightly to her as I climb out of the bed. She giggles back. I lean over the pillows and kiss her softly. Not for too long, lest I am compelled to clamber back there with her. She rises and goes to wash and I watch her slender fingers stroking the soap down her legs before I join her and refresh my body also.

When she sits on the bed and brushes the tangles from her hair, the woven band trails from her fingers. “Do not bind it as you did yesterday,” I entreat. “Let me do it.” I sit behind her and stroke the full thick length of it all behind her shoulders, taking a moment to bury my face in its smoothness and fragrance and pressing my nakedness against it down the length of our bodies. The ends fall to her hips and brush lightly over the tip of my elfhood. Oh, how she makes me want to forget the duty of this day and stay naked with her forever. One last kiss to her shoulder and I pull back the thin binding braids and twist them together, then from the nape of her neck weave a six strand braid, threading the silvery fabric band into the pattern and tying it half way down her back into a bow, leaving the remainder of her tresses springing free below. She sighs happily at the feel of my fingers working her hair and when it is done I flip it forward for her to see.

“It is like a mare’s tail on a festival day. Thank you Legolas.” She leans back against me then and becomes serious. “I need to ask you something,” she says, turning her face sideways to look at me.

I nod. “Ask anything you wish.”

She takes a deep breath. “How do you reconcile killing Legolas, with your reverence for life? How do you stay gentle and loving and sure of yourself within, when you have brought so many to death?”

“This seems a strange question from one who comes from a race of people renowned for their bravery in war and many tales of heroic deeds. I will try and answer you as best I can.” I pause, considering. “The most important thing is to know without any doubt, both within and without, exactly what is truth and goodness, in your own heart and by listening to the Valar. To be sure that you are fighting for what is right. Also I am swift and ruthless as an assassin, not for the pleasure of killing but to use my training and skill to best effect and to cause least suffering. I do not enjoy inflicting pain or fear even on the vilest and most evil of Saruman’s spawn. In a way I feel I am giving them honour by relieving them of their lives. Long ago orcs were formed and corrupted from captured and tortured elves. I think of what atrocities were perpetrated then and even though these creatures now are long removed from that, I still feel a sense that I am ridding them of their misery by ending their existence as well as doing a service to all of Arda.”

She turns fully to me and puts her legs over mine. Her eyes are clouded like a murky pool. “I killed three men Legolas, on the ride here. I was attacked. It is the first time I have taken a human life and their faces keep coming to haunting me. I keep wondering if they left behind family as Hama has and how they will feel.”

I put my arms around her, tendons flexing as I support her back. “Rowannen, you should have told me sooner if it troubled you.” Haltingly in fits and starts she relates the events to me as I listen carefully. Had I been there they would not have come within many yards of her. I wish I could have spared her this, much has she had to bear on young shoulders these last weeks. “Meleth, you have nothing to reproach yourself for.” I tell her when her tale is done. “Twas them attacking you with cruel intentions. It was your right to defend yourself and your steed. You did not kill them for sport or a misplaced sense of revenge or an unjustified fear. You did only what you had to do to save yourself from evil and did it well. They lost any right to your pity when they left any family they may have had and allied themselves with the forces of the Dark Lord, marauding through your land and burning and slaughtering innocent farmers, women and children. Hama your brother died bravely protecting all he held dear. He was a good man who deserves to be grieved and remembered. These scum died deservedly, outnumbering and attempting to overpower what they assumed to be a defenceless young girl all alone. Waste no more thought on them, Rowannen and feel your conscience clear. I am only glad your skill served you in good stead.”

She nods understanding and my eyes soften from those a warrior back to a lover again. “I know how it feels. I can recall my own first kill in battle. Of retrieving my bloodstained arrows and looking at my fingers thinking I now owned the hands of a murderer, but that feeling lasts but a little time if your heart is true as I explained. You will not forget, but it will not have power to hurt you or to change you. Believe me.”

This talk of war reminds me that I must once again meet with warriors and I extricate myself from her and squeeze her fingers. “I am proud of you, my shieldmaiden.” She watches and smiles as I pull on my leggings and brush down my hair. I am about to braid it when a knock comes at the door.


ROWANNEN:

He is by the table clad only in his leggings and brushing his hair, looking no less desirable than he is completely naked, when a knock comes on the door. I pull the cover around me as he strides to unlock it and pulls it wide. Inara is standing there. She stares at him and the look on her face is a picture. I can almost see the thoughts tumbling behind her eyes. That I am indeed such a woman as those with unbound hair and have taken advantage of the upheaval in the city and respite from battle to lure an elf to my bed.

“May I help you?” Legolas queries when nothing is forthcoming from her.

She manages to tear her gaze from his gleaming skin and looks at me instead.
“I have brought you your own clothes, Rowannen,” she holds them out in her arms and Legolas takes them from her, smiling.

“Thank you, Inara,” I reply and am about to introduce Legolas to her when she turns and flees. He raises his eyebrows at me.

“Some urgent business causes her to hurry away?” he muses.

I do not enlighten him. I hope I have chance to explain to her soon. I would not have her think badly of me. It is good to be dressed again in my own riding leggings and soft grey skirt, my familiar yellow tunic fresh and bright. I pull on my boots as Legolas finishes dressing and fixes his braids.

“I must go and see how Eowyn fares.” I tell him, concern for her rising uppermost in my thoughts.

“And I to meet with Estel and all those in command in the Stewards Hall. Come and find me and bring me news if I have not already returned to you.”

We part at the door and I run, heavy braid swinging, to the houses of healing. There are so many people here, the injured lying on beds, healers working around them that I have to squeeze through the throng to reach Eowyn. She is still lying very still but a flush of colour has returned to face. I place my hand on her forehead gently, hoping it not another manifestation of fever, but she is quite cool and pleasantly so. Gone is the deathly chill that clung to her yesterday. Pippin is still beside Merry’s bed and I suspect he has slept on the floor beside it the night through. He calls over to me.

“The elf twins went to a war council but Elladan says Eowyn is beginning to recover. They found fresh Athelas.”

I am relieved beyond measure. Merry is awake and smiles weakly at me. I spend some time talking to the hobbits and then notice Inara kneeling by a bed a little way down the room. I go to her.

“It is my brother.” She tells me when I enquire if he is a family member and I recognise the face as the one who was fallen at the second level as we descended. Was it only yesterday? It feels as though so much time has passed. Inara is spooning a dark paste into the corner of mouth. As she tends to him she explains her fear that he has internal injuries and that he drifts in and out of consciousness. I sit with her and tell her of losing my own brother and reassure her that here at least her own has a chance.

“Would you help me care for and wash the wounds of others?” she asks when she can do no more for her kin. I nod, and as the hours pass we work together with water and bandages and bowls of ointment. She becomes comfortable with me again and I am afforded the opportunity to explain my relationship with Legolas. Although I can see that she thinks it incredible and strange, at least she now is aware of my love for him and his for me.

I go to sit with Eowyn for a while, talking to her of many things, memories and hopes. Though I have no way of knowing if she can hear me, it comforts me and is all I can do. Neither Legolas, nor Aragorn, nor the twins have appeared so I take my leave, climb to the citadel and enter the hall. They are still in discussion. I wait at the back as Aragorn speaks to all those assembled.

“If Sauron had the ring we would know it.”

Gandalf interjects. “The darkness deepens, Frodo has passed beyond my sight and it can only be a matter of time. Behind the black gates his army is regrouping. Ten thousand orcs stand between Frodo and Mount Doom. I have sent him to his death.”

Aragorn pulls himself up to full height. “There is still hope.” I see Legolas smile at his friend. “We can give him time and safe passage to cross the plain of Gorgoroth if we draw out the enemy, take our full force and challenge him at his gates. It will turn his eyes to us, empty his lands.”

Eomer is standing near Imrahil and Legolas. “We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms,” he says, all too aware of the heavy losses to our forces already incurred.

“Not for ourselves, but we can give Frodo a chance. Keep Sauron’s eye blind to all that moves,” Aragorn replies.

“A diversion,” offers Legolas.

“He will not take the bait,” Gandalf is grave.

“He will take it from me. Too seldom has he been challenged since he returned to his tower.” No one asks how he is so sure. “I have shown myself to him in the Palantir, he will think me rising to be more than just King but the new ring Lord.

Gimli stands. “Certainty of death, small hope of success. What are we waiting for? Then his voice loses his mirth tinged sarcasm. “I am with you, Aragorn.”

Eomer is restless. He reminds Aragorn of the loss of so many horses and says he may have only two thousand left to command. Aragorn nods and concedes that many may go on foot. I sit by a pillar and take in what this means as they discuss numbers here still capable of fighting, reinforcements arriving from Losarnach and of how to defend the city still. Gandalf insists all men should go willingly informed of their peril. It is clear to all exactly what they face as they agree to set out.

“It is like to a child threatening a mail clad knight with a bow fashioned of string and green willow. The greatest jest in the history of Gondor,” Imrahil states. “But I hold you to be my liege Lord whether you claim it yet or no. I will go also. Your wish is to me a command.”

“If this be jest, then it is too bitter for laughter. It is the last move in a great jeopardy and for one side or the other it will bring the end of the game.”

The discussion is over. Legolas turns and comes toward me. His eyes say it all. He is going to entreat me to stay in the sliver of hope for my safety. I stare back proudly. “Legolas this time you do not leave me. I will not wait alone. If this is the end of all things then I am certain of where I have to be.” There must be something in the tone of my voice and my stance for he does not attempt to reason with me. He just nods. “Then ready Feannim,” is all he says.

Eomer strides past me, determination in his features as he goes to assemble the Rohhirrim. He pauses and takes my arm.

“Were I in the place Legolas now holds, Rowannen. I would not let you go. Remember that.” There is sorrow and an undercurrent of bitterness in his words. I do not reply but forgive him his anger, he has suffered much lately.

Legolas walks silently outside with me as the companies disperse.

“It was harder for me than you know to leave you last time. I am still in divided mind about the right judgement for this, meleth nin. All I know is the Valar wish us together, so to whatever end then we will ride.”

Standing by the high wall he rests his arm around my shoulder and Legolas and I stare into the East.