Rider of the Mark

Rider of the Mark 37

Morning has Broken... as well as the kitchenware...

***

Gamling was dreaming.

He was dreaming, he knew he was dreaming and the reason why he knew he was in that blissful state was because the Mûmakil was flying and it was pink!

Béma, was he going to be sick in the morning. Sick and getting married. It was going to be a perfect day.

"Hold this rope."

Gamling looked to his right and realized the painted savage herding this flying pink monster was his own father.

"Now would be good, son." Gamhelm was holding the rope in his outstretched hand.

"You're dead." Gamling had been raised a good son and took the rope.

"Always quick with the obvious, you were." Gamhelm looked back over the cloudless sky. Rohan lay beneath the flying beast, a myriad patchwork of fields and pasture spread before them. "Rohan will recover. It will take years, several generations, to be sure and for a time, Rohan will have its share of dark- haired Horse Lords, but she will recover and regain her strength."

"I have no doubt of that."

Gamhelm never looked sideways, never acknowledged the comment from his eldest child and only son. It was quiet for a time, while the two surveyed the land beneath them. There was much destroyed, much burned and razed, but one could see new growth struggling here and there. Cattle and sheep were venturing to pasture, horses were cautiously inspecting old haunts and exploring new ones.

"I am getting married tomorrow." the younger finally blurted.

"I know."

"Wish you could be there."

"I will be." Gamhelm shrugged at Gamling's astonished look. "Do you think I would miss it? The Sea of Nùrnan has frozen over; my son is getting married. I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"Da-"

"Gamling." They were no longer flying on the Mumakil, now they now standing on the rise over the homestead where Gamling was raised. Over his father's shoulder, he could see his mother and one of his sisters hanging laundry on a line. "When I died, I thought I would be overjoyed at the peace and quiet I had finally achieved. I was wrong." Gamhelm turned and headed down an old, worn path he and his son had trod many times. "I realized too fast, too soon, I missed you, I missed your sisters, I missed your mother, Béma, how I missed... how I miss that chattering, nagging, know-it-all woman! And so, until your mother joins me, which won't be for years, you may praise Béma, I roam the places of my youth, the hills of my adulthood."

A gentle breeze picked up, ruffling both father's and son's hair. "I am the breeze that whips your mother's skirts around her ankles, making her sputter. I rather like that." As if to give heed to his words, the breeze snapped, causing Aelwydd's skirts to twist around her calves, causing the woman to throw her hands up in exasperation. "She was a spitfire as a girl. She remained so into our marriage." He stopped and winked over his shoulder. "I rather liked that as well!" He turned and continued on. "I will be the breeze the lifts your lady's skirts when she mounts her horse tomorrow and I will be the breeze that cools the glade during your marriage. I will represent the Air when called tomorrow. Remember that."

Gamling hurried to keep up with the strides of his sire. Old habit asserted itself and as he had as a youth, he attempted to put his feet in the imprint of his da's footsteps.

"You fill them." Gamhelm never looked back.

"Wha-"

Gamhelm stopped at the bottom of the hill and turned. "You fill them. You follow my footsteps and now you fill them. In all truth, you more than fill them. You live in a harsher world than I did. I don't envy you. The day will come when your son will attempt to fill yours. Because of your hard work, he and his children will live in an easier world. Don't let him be in such a hurry to do so."

Gamling grew another inch, his backbone filled with pride. "I am going to have a son."

Gamhelm scowled. "Someday. Get that self-satisfied smirk off your face! It will be as much your lady's doing as yours!" He turned and strode off again. "I like your Aefre. You chose well. She was worth the wait."

Yes... she was...

"You should talk to her. Tell her about your nightmares."

"Da, never have I heard you speak this much."

Gamling's father let out a roar of a laugh, one the likes of which Gamling had never heard from the man. "When did I have a chance to speak? You know your mother, your sisters! I can talk now until the cows come home. Problem is, there is no one to listen and no one talks back. Who listens to you?"

"Listens to me? Well, I-"

"You talk in your sleep. She knows, Gamling. She knows more than you realize and your lady worries about you." He motioned for Gamling to walk beside him. "You witnessed... what you witnessed, no man should harbor in his depths. It will fester, deep in your belly and burn like a cancer, a sore that will not heal. Before you enter the gates of Minas Tirith, you must tell her."

Gamling scowled, his head shaking in refusal. "She has borne enough sorrow-"

"Word of advice on your marriage," Gamhelm interrupted. "Your wife should be your best friend. Yes, you wish to talk to Háma; he rides the Halls of our Fathers with his wife by his side, knowing, happy that you have taken Haleth under your care. I am the wind, I cannot answer. Théoden King's time had come. He came into the Halls a whole, noble man, not the shell he had become. When I was troubled, I went to your mother. She does know how to listen, thank Béma, and she cared about my feelings." Gamhelm continued down the path, moving swiftly into a sudden rising fog. His voice carried on the wind, fading into-

"A great wrong has been done to her, to Lufian. You must aid Éomer in correcting that."

Éomer? Lufian? Why did his da wish to-

"You need someone who can listen, someone who won't speak and look at the waste that has become the Wold. You need one who will be trusted to not speak until it is time to speak the truth when the time comes."

Speak but not speak? What riddle-

"Gamling?" The air around Gamhelm was starting to haze, the sound of his da's voice, beginning to fade. "Éomer will need you in the coming years. He will need your guidance, your knowledge. Be there for him."

Gamhelm was fading, his words drifting away.

"Gamling! Are you listening? Gamling! Gamling! Gam-"

***

"-ling! Béma, wake up! Gamling!" There was a sharp crack on his leg. "Get up! We've overslept!"

Gamling's eyes shot open, pinpoints of dagger tips embedding in his eyes. He closed them just as quickly, thousands of hammer blows banging on his head. "Béma-" Both hands went to his head.

"Head hurt?" Aefre was hissing. "It should, you big lummox!" The covers were yanked back to the bottom of the bed. "Get up! We've overslept!"

Gamling's mouth felt like cotton and he attempted to suck on saliva to moisten it. "My mouth-"

"Sit up and have a drink!" A mug of water materialized in front of him as he struggled up. "It's late! There are serving women in the halls and I don't think I can sneak you out! What are we going to do?"

Gamling reached for the mug and took several tentative sips. The water did little to ease his parched throat and his stomach rolled as he swung his legs over the bed. "Béma-"

"No swearing today! Please! Béma!"

Gamling struggled to his feet, the need to relieve himself immediate. Slowly, he made his way towards the antechamber.

"Where do you think you're going?" Aefre hissed. She was at the door, peeking out. "I have to-"

"I have to take a piss."

"You can do that-"

"I can do it now!" Gamling was wincing with each spat consonant.

Aefre shut the door, none too gently, making him cringe again. "You can do that after I get you out of here!"

He stopped at the doorway, his hand on the lacings of his trousers. He forced himself to focus on a crack in the wall ahead of him. "I must do it now!"

"Gamling-"

"I said-" he turned to glare over his shoulder, teeth clenched, "I must take care of this now. Or would you prefer I do this on the floor?"

Gamling could see in his peripheral vision Aefre narrowing her eyes, hands on hips. "You would do that! You would do that just to make a point!"

***Great. Great way to start our wedding day...***

Gamling stepped into the antechamber, untying the lacings and freeing himself. "No. I might make it to the hall, first."

The Horse Lord's head throbbed in rhythm to the clanging in the chamber pot,

***Béma whendidipisssoloud...***

Aefre was a bundle of nerves, flitting back and forth, muttering and mumbling. For some odd reason, her agitated motions made Gamling's head hurt worse. His temples were pounding worse than a Dunlending's drums.

***dammitdammitwhyinallofRohandidIhaftaproveIcoulddrinkthatbridlebrainund erneaththetable...***


"GAMLING!" The Horse Lord looked up bleary eyed at the woman he would be marrying in a few, short hours. She stood in front of the door, still in her nightgown, one hand planted firmly on her hips, the other gesturing with the authority of an angered female. "The hall is full of serving women! Can you think of any way we can sneak you out?"

He blinked once. "I could just walk out. It isn't like we haven't be-"

She screeched.

He grimaced. "Don't do that."

Foul language he would never believe if he wasn't hearing it first hand, fell from her mouth - that kissable, lickable mouth, when it wasn't moving like an éored on attack - fell like ice in a hailstorm. She berated him, his drinking buddies, his temper, his -

"Aefre. I realize you're angry, but if you curse my horse, this marriage is off."

Aefre responded by bursting into tears. "This is all your... f...f...fffffault!"

***she'sgotthatright***

Gamling strode to the window, looking out and down. Aefre took no note that he was assessing the distance from the window to the ground.

"I can't believe we overslept." She was wiping tears as fast as they fell. "I haven't overslept in... well, I've never overslept! I have always been an early riser..."

Gamling turned from the window, and perused the chamber's furniture. Spying a piece that looked suitable, he went to the bed and pulled back the light quilt the two had been so nicely cuddled up under not ten minutes previously. He grabbed the linen sheet, pulling it from the bed. "You were up late, last night."

"What do you remember of last night?"

***not much of shite, to be honest***

He grabbed a chair, the one he had claimed as his, and after dragging it several inches, which set his ears ringing, he bodily picked up it and took it to the window.

"... banging at my door..."

***our door***

"...in the middle of the night, three sheets to the wind, couldn't stand up, couldn't count, couldn't put three words together without slurring them... what are you doing?"

Gamling was tying the edge of the long sheet to the main spindle on the chair. "Risking life and limb to sneak out so no one will know that I slept in our bed last night." 'Our' was emphasized and the entire tirade was spat drolly, as the Groom was obviously irked. He yanked at the knot, ensuring it's tightness and stability. "Béma forbid-"

There was a knock at the door. "Aefre?" The knob rattled. "Aefre? Are you awake?"

***great morning mother...***

Aefre's mouth made a perfect 'o'. She turned to Gamling, her eyes exact mates to her mouth. "Oh-"

Gamling had climbed on the chair and was now sitting on the windowsill. "Call out that you are in the ante chamber and you'll be right there and then come sit on this chair!" he whispered tersely. He swung his legs over the sill and proceeded to lower himself down the battlement. The chair banged against the wall and Aefre rushed to sit in it, in order to stabilize the piece of furniture.

"Aefre?" More rapping.

"I'm awake! I'll be right there."

"Aefre-"

"I'm on the chamber pot! Give me a minute!" The chair bounced several times, eventually stilling. She breathed a sigh of relief before finally standing and walking serenely to the door. She calmly opened the door.

"Good morning, Aelwydd." She stepped aside to allow Gamling's mother into the room. "I'm glad you-"

"Why is that chair by the window and what is a sheet doing tied to it?"

***

Gamling thought he'd never touch the ground. His arms ached; it had been quite some time since he had scaled a wall. After what seemed forever, bare toes dug into loose, rich soil and he felt confident enough to turn loose of the sheet.

"And where do you think you've been, boy?"

Gamling turned slowly around, blinking in the rising sun, only to be confronted by Cynn, the blacksmith and his adopted apprentice, Bawdewyne.

The boy was tossing a medium sized stone.

"Do not throw that at me," Gamling warned him.

"You didn't answer my question."

Gamling looked up to the window, before addressing the blacksmith. "Those are my chambers-"

"Then why did you feel the need to sneak out?"

Gamling was at a loss for words. His mouth worked furiously, no sound coming out. Cynn took full advantage, thoroughly disgusted.

"I don't believe it. I thought you loved her! For Béma's sake, you're marrying her this morning and you've spent the night in another's-"

"She was in the bed!" Gamling hissed. "I spent the night with her! We overslept and I couldn't sneak out with my mother banging at the door!"

As if hearing her name, Aelwydd stuck her head out the window, glaring at her son. "Cynn? Is that you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Escort that miscreant of mine to the baths." She shook an admonishing finger at Gamling. "Pull him by the ear if you feel like it!"

"My pleasure, ma'am." He crooked a finger at Gamling. "Follow me. Bawdewyn, drop the rock."

"Aw, damn." He saw Cynn's look of castigation and blushed. "I'm sorry."

"You are too young to talk like that." He headed down the hill, Marshal and boy in tow. "For that, you may go aid in the saddling of the Marshal's war stallion and Lady Aefre's mare." He stopped the boy. "Make sure you put as many flowers in their manes as possible." The two watched as Bawdewyn went off towards the stables.

Gamling flinched. "You don't have to-"

"Serves you right!" Cynn nodded towards the baths. "At least I didn't get caught sneaking from my wife's chambers the night before our wedding. Where are your things?"

"Aefre's old chambers."

Cynn stopped and cocked his finger back and forth. "You go get your clothing and I'll send for bath water and Willan to will bring you something for your headache."

Gamling started to turn and stopped. "How did you know?"

"Eh. You're squinting and squirming at every sound. Serves you right." The blacksmith headed off towards the kitchens, no doubt looking for the large servant.

Gamling watched as the blacksmith strode away from him.

***Damn this will be a wedding day never to forget...***

***

***Blessed water***

Gamling sank gratefully into the bathing tub, the water steaming almost to the point of discomfort. Used to the frigid chill of a river or stream, the Horse Lord appreciated the warmth of a drawn bath.

If was only marred by the pounding of his head.

***dranktoomuchshouldn't haveletthatdimwit sovereign talkmeinto adrinkin contest...***

There was a low moan in the stall next to his and despite his hangover, Gamling felt a slow grin spread across his features.

"Sire?"

"Shaddup."

Gamling's eyebrows bounced once in glee, before grimacing in pain at the action.

***glad tuh know I'm not the only one hurting, you deserveit deserve it trying to drink ME under the table, youngling!

That is your king you are cursing, your Lord, you are calling names...

... he sooooo deserves it!***

Gamling sank lower into the water, the heat now covering him to his chin. The curtain drew quietly back, the visage of a giant Rohirrim shuffling softly in. Willan was smiling, a basket in his hands. The servant set the basket down on the table and, sniffing over the contents, pulled out a teapot. Steam was still rising from the spout.

"Please tell me that is a gift from Aefre," he whispered.

Willan smirked -

***smirking at an aching man he should be so ashamed...***

-setting the pot down and removing two mugs and a pouch of-

***dirt. I'll bet she sent dirt to put in that tea or caffe to get me back for getting arse headed drunk and passing out on her last night I'm so dead so doooooomed...dammit I need to piss again!***

A washcloth, a bar of soap, and small vial hit the water, splashing the Horse Lord in the face and rousing him from his internal grumbling. Gamling allowed the bar of soap to sink to a spot between his legs, his eyes resting on the small, corked bottle. "What's this?" He lifted it into the dim light-

***AAARGH! Brightlightbrightlight***

-lowering it quickly. Willan handed him a mug, the smell of tea and... nasty things rising in the vapors. Gamling dropped the vial, unaware that it floated between his knees, and reached for the mug. As he took the pottery goblet from the servant, Willan's hands went to his hair.

*Wash with it like this.*

"Please tell me this will help my head."

Willan's index finger made a circle around his ear.

*Stupid*

"Yeah, yeah. You're right."

There was another moan from the stall next to his.

"Serves him right!" Gamling took a tentative sip and almost spat the contents out into the bath water. "This is supposed to help?" Willan shrugged. "You know," Gamling took another sip, forcing the vile brew down, "If I wasn't getting married in the next few hours, I'd prefer to just sick this one up and wait."

Another moan.

Gamling narrowed his eyes in vindictiveness. "Is there enough of this shite for him?"

Willan nodded, reaching for the second mug.

***gooooooooood***

Willan began to pour tea and mix ... dirt?... into the mug before disappearing through the dividing curtain.

"Whadisit?"

"Drink up, sire," Gamling called. Already his headache was beginning to dissipate. "It is a gift from Aefre."

"A gift? From Aefre? Your lady is-" There was the sound of sputtering and spitting. "Bema! Whadaryatryintado, Willan? Poison me?"

"Drink it, sire. It will help."

"Help what? My tongue to fall off?"

Willan returned to Gamling's side of the stall, waggling fingers, signaling that he would return with towels and clothing. Again, the curtain was drawn to the side and the large man absconded through it.

"Béma, this is awful!" More sounds of spitting.

"Drink it, Éomer. It will help." The Marshal shook his head and with a great, personal show of bravery, gulped the remainder of the disgusting potion down in a single swallow. He grimaced as the liquid slid into his gullet and reached overhead, behind him, eyes closed, to place the mug on the shelf that normally resided behind the bath troughs.

The goblet crashed to the ground, bouncing once before the sound of shattered earthenware echoed loudly.

"Now, you did it!" Éomer's voice was peevish. "Breaking valuable stemware. You will be drawn and quartered at dawn."

"Shaddup."

"Talkin' like that to your king." Éomer's voice echoed in his mug. "Disgraceful."

Gamling was fishing for the soap; found it very near to his more manly parts. He resisted the urge to squeak when he grabbed more than the soap and proceeded to scrub skin he could see. "No, sire. What was disgraceful was the way you flirted with Ballard's twin daughters when you couldn't stand up straight."

"I did not flirt with them." There was the sound of a second mug hitting the stone floor and not faring any better than Gamling's mug had.

"Looks like I'll have company being drawn and quartered." Gamling's voice was droll. "It was good knowing you, sir."

"Shaddup." There was a quiet moment. "I didn't flirt with them, did I?"

The sudsy cloth was making its way beneath Gamling's arms. The scent of sandalwood was strong and Gamling thought to thank Aefre for not sending down something... pink or floral smelling.

***Éomer would never let me live it down... me getting married smelling like a woman's garden...***

"You know what? I think I did flirt with them."

Gamling sank lower in the water, hoping to hide his smile. In truth, he didn't remember Éomer flirting with anyone; he simply said it to irk his king.

Ballard, the owner of The Frisky Shield Maiden, had really ugly twin daughters.

Ugly.

Really ugly.

Nanléohtian and Bicce

Really... really ...

U-G-L-Y, you ain't got no alibi
You ugly, oh oh, you ugly
M-A-M-A how you think you got that way
Your Mama...

...ugly.

"Oh Bema! I did." Éomer's voice was strangled. "I remember it. Bema, I'm going to be sick."

"Don't get sick in your bath water." Gamling had finished with the soap and had allowed it to sink back to the bottom of the bath trough. He reached for the still floating vial and uncorked it.

***pleasepleaseplease don't smell like.... ah...pine... thankyouthankyou thankyou...***

"They tried to ... service me in a back hall."

Gamling's hand stopped in mid-rise.

"Uhm... sire... there are some things I don't need to know."

Éomer continued anyway, sheer disbelief creeping into his voice.

"They did. Both of them! It's ... it's a nightmare!"

Gamling rolled his eyes and foregoing the small pail to wet his hair, pressed his thumb over the opening of the vial and slid under the water.

***how long can I stay under? I can hold my breath a good... oh thirty... forty...I have fabulous lungs and I really don't want to hear damn those sisters are ugly I don't care how drunk or how desperate a man is oh damn I'll be as blue as Éomer's balls if I try to hold my breath that long maybe he'll be done by now...

Gamling came up gasping, trying not to be heard.

"-the really, really fat one? The one that thinks she's thin? She's got no boobs! I don't mind small boobs, but what she's got sag and they-"

Gamling slid under again.

***Damn, I wasn't even up long enough to get my hair lathered. This does not bode well. Dammit, a man should have some peace and quiet the morning he gets married. Béma knows I'll never know another moment's peace again. Maybe he'll be done-***

Gamling rose above the surface again, rivulets of water streaming down his face and beard. Éomer was still whining. Trying not to pay attention, the Marshal poured an enormous amount of thick liquid from the vial and proceeded to lather his hair as fast as possible.

"The other one? The thinner one with the horse teeth? She had this bar thing pierced in her belly! And the fat one was sucking on my-"

Gamling went under again.

***dammitdammitdammit that wasn't long enough to do anything. I'll just have to tell him to be quiet, stupid fool to be servicing those two horrors, going to make me lose my nerve tonight-***

Again, Gamling rose to the surface and poured liquid into his hair.

"Oh Béma, thank you, it's still there!" Éomer sounded truly relieved, the sound of swishing water coming from the stall. "I swear, I'll never, ever -"

"Sire?"

"Yes?" He sounded truly distracted.

"Be quiet. I have to put my Horse Lord to work tonight and you are scaring him to the point where he won't come out of the barn stall!"

Silence.

"What a nightmare."

***You better pray it was...***

It was quiet while the two washed and lathered, one looking forward to the night and the other praying the previous night hadn't happened. Willan showed up in time, with towels and a pail of fresh hot water for both men to rinse their hair in.

"Sire, you don't have to go to mine and Aefre's wedding. Our guests are much more important. Why don't you just stay here and -"

The curtain was thrown back, Éomer standing, a towel wrapped low about his hips. "I would be remiss as your king and as your friend, if I did not say the words blessing your marriage."

"You don't have to say anything-"

"I do have to say anything!" Éomer was glowering, his legendary temper barely held in check. He shook his head, vexed. "I mean something. I do have to say something! Are you done? Fine! Here!" He grabbed the towel from Willan and held it out, looking Gamling sternly in the eye. "As the highest ranking lord in Edoras, it is my right." Éomer's voice was softer, but commanding. "You are the closest thing I have to a male relative, and I hope you feel the same of me." The towel was taken from him and Éomer looked at the man who had taught him as a young squire and Rider. "It will be a privilege to be there. I wouldn't miss it for all the High Elves of Middle Earth."

Gamling was tying the towel around his waist and held his hand out for another. It was a rare treat to have such niceties and who knew when the next time would be.

***probably when they are preparing me for burial and I won't be aware of the luxury!***

Éomer was right and he had a point. This was an argument Gamling wouldn't win and deep down, he really didn't want to.

"We just want something simple. Quiet."

"Dignified?"

Gamling nodded.

"That's a load of horse shite." Éomer's face split into a grin. "You only get married once, old man. It is my duty and honor to make sure it's done right!"

***ooooooh nooooooooo...***

***

Gamling thought he was above desiring creature comforts. He had been on campaign, had slept in his saddle, spent many a night on cold ground with nothing between him and the chill of the rock save his cloak.

***Béma, how did she survive in such a small room?***

Granted, Aefre's former chambers were full - full of his sisters, his mother, his nieces and nephews, one lone brother-in-law.

***one lost on Pelennor Fields, one lost last year to Dunlendings, one still in Minas Tirith, injured...bring him home to Sulis...***

He had barely gotten his leggings and a shirt made of fine bleached linen on before the door banged open and family rushed into the room.

One would think he had never dressed himself before, the way they carried on.

"Have you cleaned your teeth?" Maida asked snidely. Gamling bared his teeth in a hideous grin. "Great Béma, please tell me you don't make that face at her!"

"Did you wash under your arms? The other... well you know-"

"Between your toes? There is nothing worse than nasty toe shi-"

"Are you going to trim your beard? It's scraggly and the last thing you want-"

"Where did you learn to plait a warrior braid? Take that down, it's crooked and it's-"

"This is your wedding wreath? There are hardly any flowers in it!"

"You have your mark? Your sword? Are you going to use that dagger? Béma, Gamling, it looks as if you've killed things with it! Have you sent anyone to saddle Dréogan and Adenydd?"

"Gamling, you can't be serious! I know the shoemaker made you new boots! These things are worn and have sawdust-"

After much snarling and growling, Gamling finally chased his family out, leaving him with alone with his mother. For not the first time, he pulled his hair out of the half-done braid he was fighting with.

"May I?"

It was not often his mother asked, and even less often such asking was done softly and with reverence.

"I'm lousy at this. Please?"

Gamling closed his eyes, enjoying a gentle touch he had long forgotten. His head nodded with the pull and give. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hold this. Don't look." Something heavy and round fell into the palm of his hand, "You never could braid your hair straight. One wonders how you managed to plait your stallion's tail."

"I could see it."

The pulling and twisting went on for a moment or two.

"This dagger was Da's."

"I know. It will be a fine marriage gift to give to Aefre."

Finally -

"Gamling. Look at what you are holding."

Gamling opened his eyes, to inspect the hair clasp in his hand. It was of beaten pewter, the insignia of Rohan along with that of his house-"

"This was Da's."

"Aye."

Gamling looked at his mother. "He was wearing this when we buried him."

"I removed it the night before." She lifted it solemnly from the palm of Gamling's hand. "He wore this the day we formally married. Wore it for every formal occasion we attended - Éomund's wedding, do you remember going to Éomer's birth presentation? He wore it then. He wore it when you earned your first Rider's cloak and when you were pronounced and raised Captain." Aelwydd tied the bottom of the braid and secured the clasp at the bottom. "His father wore it and his father had it made for his wedding. It was your father's wish it be passed to you. I should have done it sooner."

Gamling turned and stood, looking down at the woman who had birthed him. "Today was a perfect day to give it to me. Thank you."

Aelwydd was not quite done. Looking down, she reached and grasped both of her son's hands. "There are customs tonight that are to be adhered to."

"I know about wrapping Aefre in my cloak. I will make sure the door is unlatched in the morning so someone will see."

Aelwydd was still staring at the floor. "There are others."

Gamling's eyebrows knit together in frustration. "Do not tell me our bedding will be public."

Aelwydd's scowl matched her son's. "That's disgusting. Only a Dunlending would be so crass!" She swore under her breath. "It's about Aefre." Gamling waited for her to continue. "Aefre's hair is done up."

"Done... up?"

"Yes, it's tradition. It is done up with pins and ribbons. Many are hers, her mother's and her father's mother. I have given her several of mine. Your sisters have given her one each; there is one from your father's mother."

"A lot of pins and ribbons in her hair." Gamling thought back to the weddings he had attended in the past. The bride's hair was always piled on her head, bejeweled and sparkling. "That will take time taking it down."

"Exactly." Aelwydd finally looked up, smiling. "You are to take it down. It is a calming ritual, for both of you, so do not rush through it. A wedding night is special, sacred. I know this is not your first time together, but it is your first as husband and wife." She squeezed his hands, tight, firmly. "As you take it down, pay close attention to the pins. Any pin that has a hair caught in it, give it to Aefre."

"Any particular reason?"

Aelwydd's smile became bigger. "She will tell you when you finish." She rose on her toes and kissed him gently on a rugged cheek. "You've grown into a revered Rider, but most important, a fine man. I couldn't be more proud and I know your father would be as well. You have chosen well, Gamling. She will be good for you and to you. I am pleased." Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"Mother, did you cry at your daughter's weddings?"

"Bawled like a baby! Don't scowl so. I'll be that bad by the time we get outside." She pointed to the table where he had been sitting. "You better get your wreath."

Gamling grimaced, refusing to pick up the garland. "Do I have to wear it?"

Aelwydd reached around and picked it up. "You are lucky. Aefre specifically requested that you have much greenery and very little floral. She said the green would better suit your hair than pink roses! So stop your griping." She placed it on his brow. "You look very..."

"Like I'm getting married?"

Aelwydd nodded.

Gamling looked towards the door before looking back at his mother. "Do... do we have a few minutes?"

"No one is banging at the door yet. I would say we do."

He nodded, looking around the room. It was bare, nothing left but the bare furniture, no personal effects, no mirror, nothing of Aefre left in it. Slowly, he removed his bridal garland.

"Would you trim my beard?"

***