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 Four:

TWO HEARTS ARE ONE



ROWANNEN:

Freda clung to me sobbing as I watched Legolas depart. I collected a pitcher of milk and blankets and took her and Eothain to an unused chamber near to Hama’s quarters. Hama’s wife would be nearby to help me if needed. My brother and Crirawen had two children of their own and another on the way, so experience was not lacking.

Eothain was shy and insisted in sleeping in his clothes; he was so weary with responsibility and fear that he fell into sleep almost instantly. Not so with Freda. Her near hysteria prevented her from letting go, but as long as I stayed near she calmed a little. She let me fold her dress and snuggled into the blankets for warmth. I brushed her tousled hair. “You are more gentle than Mama,” She said. I smiled. I expected that Morwen had a hard life and many duties. A quick hurried comb dragged through the long curly locks would no doubt have to suffice. I on the contrary, had the time to spend gently teasing out tangles and restoring the shine. She drank the frothy milk but still could not settle.

I sat beside her and began the story of Snowmane and Ganlerain. Snowmane, the pure white mare whose tail swept the ground. She came down from the highest mountains where she lived among the ice, the giant snowflakes melting in her mane as she trotted lower, following the Snowbourn stream into the warmer lands. Loving the sweet lush grass and the flowers and the great plains where she could outrace the wind, she decided to stay. Yet she was lonely. Although the rabbits and the deer and all the birds of the air were her friends, still something was missing.

Ganlerain came from the sea. Silvered with water was he, as he galloped ashore, riding in the breakers of the fiercest storm Arda had ever known. Salt spray was in his mane and a necklace of shells about his neck. The powerful stallion galloped inland, followed the great river Anduin, past the marshes of the Entwash to the Falls of Rauros and there veered west. Running into the wind across the plains of Rohan until
he reached the Snowbourn. Dipping his nose into the crystal water he drank deeply of the melted ice and snow and began to follow it to its source, seeking the beginning of the life of his watery home, searching for the origin of all things, yet doomed to fail for all of life upon Middle Earth is a circle.

Never did he reach the mountain, for in a clearing by a mirrored pool stood Snowmane. He was what she had been waiting for; She was what he really sought. They ran together throughout all of Rohan and were never parted. Every year Snowmane bore a silver white foal. So began the Mearas it is told, and Shadowfax is still the image of his ancestor.

As I spoke her eyelids drooped and her breathing slowed. Gently she gave in and fell asleep, her small hand still clutching mine.
I ached to go and find Legolas, he would not know where I was, should he search for me, and I could not leave this child just yet. If she should wake in the dark from some nightmare not remembering where she lay, then her terror would return. The candles burned low and I dozed in the chair.

Dawn was well advanced when I awoke. There was much activity already outside the room. Voices and feet hurrying. A knock came upon the door and Hama entered. “The King has decided that we all must travel to Helm’s Deep.” He said. “He believes we have a better chance to defend ourselves in that fortress. It has never fallen before.”
“How soon do we leave?” I asked, suddenly very afraid. Where would Legolas now be bound?
“Tomorrow.” He replied. “Today we gather supplies and ready the horses.”

I woke the children and took them to the hall. Fresh eggs and hot fried potato awaited any who cared who eat. Freda was much refreshed and almost eager for adventure this morning and I was astonished to see how much food both she and her brother managed to tuck away. Children have great powers of regeneration. I myself cannot face food when my heart is anxious.

Weapons of the guard of the Riddermark were stored in the armoury, the common people cared for their own in their homesteads, but the weapons of the nobles hung here in state upon the walls of the golden hall. Eowyn had taken down her sword and was wielding it, relishing the feel of it in her hands again. I could see that she was glad of this turn of events. Action of any kind was preferable to sinking in grief.

I reached for my own sword. Until recently it had resided in the armoury with Hama’s spare weapons but Theodred had brought it here and given it an honoured place. It was lighter than Eowyn’s, with a scrolled hilt of ebony and silver, and a fine, keen blade. I joined her in the centre space and we moved around each other, training our muscles to the weight and the strokes of the swords. We parried and fought in jest as the children laughed at our serious game. Thus, were we occupied as Legolas entered. As I twirled around, my blade singing, I saw him watching me and there was love in his eyes. My heart leapt with both joy and fear. What would become of us? I could not lose him so soon. We had only just begun. Any more grief and I would surely die!

“I marvel at your strength.” Legolas said. “Two swans fighting like Giant Eagles. The maidens of this land are full of surprises!”

“Do you have a sword, Legolas?” asked Eothain shyly.

“I can wield a sword.” The Elf answered “But my greatest skill is with the bow. I do have some competence with knives also.”

At this, his hands whipped behind his head and fast as light, drew two long, white handled knives from the quiver. Then he transformed into a whirlwind, spinning down the hall in a mastery of speed and movement. Each foot landing and leaping in precise patterns, describing a deadly dance, the muscles of his arms flexing, the knives hissing and whistling as they sliced arcs into the very air. At the far end of the hall Legolas halted and the look of intense concentration upon his features broke into a grin as Eothain clapped his hands and laughed, his eyes wide.

“That was fantastic, Legolas.” He cried “I want to be able to do that, as well as you, when I am grown.” Legolas gave him a smile and nodded his head.

“Then Eothain,” he answered “You are already on your way to success. A great
desire for something is always the beginning of its achievement.” His incredible eyes met mine and my own desire mirrored his own.

I began to polish my sword and Legolas came to sit beside me. Eowyn was still practising her strokes and thrusts when Aragorn entered. Unnoticed by her he drew his sword and swung to join her, steel ringing against steel.

“You have some skill with a blade.” He said admiringly.
Eowyn deftly countered his stroke laying him vulnerable to attack. I watched intently gaining the impression that although she had taken him by surprise he had conceded to her.

“Women of this country learned long ago: Those without swords can still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain.” Said Eowyn, her voice dangerous.

“What do you fear, my lady?” asked Aragorn.

Eowyn took a deep breath, her voice was impassioned.
“I fear a cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them and all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire.” She glared at the Ranger her breast heaving with emotion.

“You are a daughter of Kings, a shieldmaiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate.” Replied Aragorn softly, and he sheathed his sword and moved to partake of some food. “We will travel with you to Helm’s Deep and fight with your people.” he added turning to gaze at her again.

My heart sang at these words. I would not have to be parted from Legolas after all, and what the future would bring only time would tell. Eowyn’s words rang in my mind and I knew with certainty that I shared this view. My mind was made up. War was pursuing us. Our fates were in the balance. I would waste no more of my life in passivity. Wherever Legolas would take me, I would go. I reached for his hand and his long fingers tightened around mine.

Several children ran into the hall chattering, and gathered around Eothain and Freda. They had toys, wooden swords, polished pebbles, wooden horses and ropes for lassoing and skipping games. Freda’s eyes widened. In the villages there was less time for games and more for chores I thought. It would do her good to play this day before our long journey. A babble of voices rose to the eaves.

“Will you come outside?” “Do you know the snowflake skipping song?” “We can show you a new litter of puppies if you like.” The children cried.

Eothain and Freda went gladly, eyes beginning to shine. I thought of the puppies and sighed. We would not be able take the nursing deerhound bitch and her tiny whelps to the Hornburg. I must remember to leave food accessible for her to give them a chance to survive. War was a cruel master. Legolas saw my eyes darken.
“Come walk with me awhile.” He said, and drew me from the hall.

“The children were so friendly.” He remarked as we walked along the cobbled way. “Tell me a little about your people Rowannen.”

“I know not what to tell.” I replied “I have known no other society, and accustomed to my own alone, it is hard to compare. This I can say. The men of Gondor and Ithilien think of us as uncultured. They are happy enough to come and trade for our horses, for no finer and healthier, or better trained and responsive, exist in all of the world, but they consider themselves superior in social matters, in literature and in song. This is false belief upon their part. Our songs are rich and our music meaningful. We may not hoard our knowledge in libraries and written scrolls, but all our stories and beliefs are passed on to each generation, learnt well and never forgotten. We know well the land and can draw maps unrivalled in detail, even to the type of grass that grows in each vale and on each hill. They consider us simple peasants. Simple we may be, but not without keenness of mind.

Yes, we are a physical and practical people, yet I believe our worth is in the fact that we have not the lies and deceit of others of the race of men. We do not seek to cheat or to rise above a fellow human being. We wish to offer comradeship and mutual benefit. Our children are never spiteful or jealous of each other or their siblings. Harmony and the never-ending flow of all things are at the root of our being and moral code. Our honesty gives us a keen ear for untruth. Had Grima Wormtongue not been wielding the dark magic spells of Saruman then he would never have been able to ensnare the King. Gondor and Ithilien would like to think that they are also superior in warfare. It is not the case. Clever tactics they may devise, but in the heat of battle, given the unpredictability of an enemy and his plans, these are often overthrown. Our warriors are braver and stronger in war than any other I have heard of and this counts for much, when lives are in the balance.”

“For someone who knew not what to tell, I think you did well.” Legolas laughed. “I shall be honoured to fight alongside your people.” His voice grew serious. “Many differences there may be between you and I, but I see there is a great deal in common between the people of Rohan and the elves.”

“We shall be honoured to have you fight with us also, Legolas.” I replied. “If as you say, your skill with a bow is even greater than with your knives then that is something I should like to see.”

He smiled down at me.
“I have had many long years to practice my skills. Many lives of men.” He said.
“I will show you and teach you also, Rowannen. When we have some time.”

I knew of the immortality of Elves, yet Legolas seems so young to me. It is a hard concept to grasp. Yet for me… Ah time! It ever slips away. The day is passing!

“Legolas, I must go.” I said. “There is much to do. Supplies to gather and pack for the journey. Animals to be taken care of.”

“Stay just a moment.” His gentle voice pleaded.

He drew me to his body, his hands slid under my tunic and his deft fingers caressed my bare skin, encircled my waist, slid across my back and up my spine. I tingled and shivered under his touch.

“Swiftly has this happened and I was taken by surprise.” He said very softly. “Yet I think you know. I can think of little else but you. I need to love you, Rowannen. I want you to be mine.”

My breath is coming in short gasps both from his touch and his words. Such happiness is so hard to bear. Unbounded thrills run through me.

“Legolas, I think you know also.” I manage to whisper. “I have loved you since first I heard your voice and beheld your face. Whatever I am and whatever I have to give, it is yours.”

For the second time in as many days his lips meet mine, and sweeter still than yesterday is this kiss. Already had I thought that I had abandoned myself to him, but now I find I yield further and also, he gives more of himself to me. More of his mind and his essence seep into my soul through the movement of his lips, more sweetness, more passion and more desire. It is a long time before we part and he releases his hold on me.

“Come to my chamber tonight at dusk.” He says. “I shall be waiting.”

“I will.” I reply, wondering how, if this intensity continues I will manage to survive the night, and then hasten away, all the quicker to complete my tasks. As I turn, I see Eowyn, standing on the levels above us; she has witnessed our tryst. This is a secret no longer. For once I cannot read the meaning of the expression in her eyes.


LEGOLAS:

The afternoon could not pass quickly enough for me. For my part I had little to attend to. Lembas bread and my weapons are all I need for a journey, both I already have. Also, so long have we been travelling now since Imladris, and before that. For me from Mirkwood; the Hobbits from the Shire; Aragorn and Gandalf always on the move; that life seems one continuous journey and all that is needed is to set off and put one foot in front of the other. But I understand that these folk need food, spare clothing, winter fodder for the animals. Women and children are travelling with us and this requires much preparation. Besides I am glad of this last night here at Edoras, so glad. I could have helped Rowannen, but had I been near her, I think I would have slowed her pace. I have spent the time thinking of her. She has beauty; she has a clever, thoughtful mind. She has affinity with the horses, skill with a weapon, tenderness and care for children. Such a contradiction is she. So sad and yet so joyous. She swings between extremes. At times so quiet and at others so animated and fiery. So shy and uncertain and yet so eager and free.

My desire has been mounting as the hours pass. We have all eaten early and the meal is cleared away. People leave for their homes to finalize their packs and to rest. I do not wish for any rest this night. Rowannen was present at the meal; I could not sit beside her, as we were in discussion with Theoden about how best to undertake the journey. As she left the hall I touched her arm.

“You will be sure to come?” I asked quietly.

This urgency was such a new feeling for me. Never before had I been so concerned at the outcome of a liaison, Never before had it really mattered this much whether a lover came to be with me or no, however much I enjoyed the encounters. Yet the importance of this one was burning in my soul. I must not lose her now.

“Of course,” she said, “but I must go and bathe first. Before the darkness falls I will come to you Legolas.” And a flush spread across her cheeks.

I love this. I love her modesty and her uncertainty. It only serves to inflame my desire. If she had been brazen, I am sure I would not be in such an aroused state of anticipation as that which I now feel.

I stand with Aragorn and Gimli in the passageway before our rooms. The sky is darkening. Aragorn opens his door expecting us to enter as usual and sees my hesitation.

“What ails you, Legolas?” he asks.

Gimli lets out a guffaw of dwarvish proportions.

“I thought Rangers were supposed to have great perception?” He crows.
“Aragorn, you are so distracted with duty and care and memory of Arwen, that you cannot see what is happening beneath your very nose!” Aragorn looks bemused.

“The Elf, is this night hoping to sheath his blade!” explains Gimli with a grin.
Aragorn stares at me, slow comprehension dawning upon his features.

“Forgive me Legolas.” The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile and then he laughs. A sound that has not passed his lips for many a month.
“I did not realise, how far you had progressed. My compliments to your skill.”

I smile back at my friends.
“I would ask that you do not disturb me at least until dawn is well underway.” I say, “And I would also ask that you do not jest more about this matter. It is far more serious than you give me credit for.”

Aragorn and Gimli turn to each other, eyebrows raised as I open the door to my own chamber.