Once There Were Words

[Rholarowyn]

The gentle westward breeze slowly caught the vibrant cloth strands of crimson and gold, indigo and emerald woven fabrics hanging from the permanent, wooden booth that was one among many, supported by rounded posts, and were arranged in four short rows. Each booth was tented with a sturdy russet material intended to block out the midday sun or the misty grey days that could sometimes accompany these early summer seasons. The light wind then made its way through the other booths and picked up the fresh scent of meat roasting with specialty spices designed to entice the most of weary of travelers to a warm, home cooked meal. This along with aroma of fresh and dried herbs, infused into golden loaves of bread made the small local market a treasure trove for those who lived nearby as well as those who traveled from the town of Fornost to Tharbad or visa versa.

Children with their joyful voices frolicked nearby where parents could still see them, if they were watching, and some would playfully attempt to sneak a piece of fruit when the old grey haired widow with clouded eyes wasn’t looking. Her rainbow, colored fruit was accompanied with a kaleidoscope of neatly arranged fresh cut flowers in various shapes and sizes, each bucket holding several ribbon bound bouquets. There were also musicians under a nearby tree sharing their talents for song and dance with carefree, pleasant notes ringing out from flutes and wooden, stringed mandolins harmoniously keeping time with the beats of the accompanying drummers.

The Misty Mountains, far off to the east, reached high into the heavens. Soon their color would be changing once the sun dipped below the distant, western horizon shadowing the day and inviting nightfall to come. It was then that the merchant’s booths and rustic plaza would become a portrait of living, breathing light. Lanterns and candles would illuminate the small village and market area like fireflies coming to rest and though the silent breeze brought a slight chill, the night was still warm enough for those to wander through the simple street market after dark. The merchants, still hopeful for the possibility of evening sales and camaraderie, waited for the locals as well as for the unknowns who might materialize at evening time...

.

[earendil81]

The skies were turning red even over the Misty Mountains on her left; Arien had moved to her West, her brightness dimming as she rode on. Still it was not over the majestic Misty Mountains or towards the great sea in the West that her gaze wandered... It may have been pure habit but her eyes lingered on the South East where she knew the White Tower of Minas Tirith stood. Even one of the Eldar could not have distinguished the light of the sun on the pinnacle from this distance but she knew. No need to see.

Behind her she had left Fornost and its restored grandeur to bring back news from the king's vassal and representative in Arnor to its addressee. She was glad to leave Eriador for although the name was no longer used as it could not be called a wasteland anymore, it remained that for her. She had no space in her heart to feel love for that place; it was a place of a past left behind long ago. These were curious thoughts for a day of riding and yet she could not help it. Every time she made the trip to Fornost, the rider would be taken by these feelings; relief to be gone from a place she did not care for, happiness at going back to where she belonged. And since the end of the War the Greenway was no longer that dreary road that required stealth and silence; villages and small towns had sprouted everywhere, families had settled bringing this sense that peace is here to stay. For of it all, it was really the children that showed the war was ended. Their voices raising in laughter, their eyes twinkling with mischievousness were the proof that hard times were left behind.

She was actually getting to one of those newly built villages between Fornost and Tharbad. The vibrant colours of the cloths being caught in the wind were welcoming and the place inviting. There was a time she'd have gone on, the wild calling to her. But she had not slept in a few days and even she needed the rest. Here would be as good as anywhere else. Better even than Tharbad which was too big a city for her to enjoy. Although she was expected there, she still had time and even if she stopped here for a few days she would be arriving earlier than planned. She had not lingered in Fornost, she never did.

[Rholarowyn]

“Narayan, would you go check the coals for me?” Rholarowyn asked while she kneaded another large lump of a special dough mixture. Her blonde hair was tied back but as usual a few loose strands always managed to escape. Doing her best to push them aside with the back of her hand, the woman managed to get more of the chocolate colored flour dusted upon her face. However, she did not wipe it off, it’s sweat, earthy aroma reminded her of Narayan’s land. “Sure Mom,” the young dark eyed boy answered and then ran out of the booth. A minute later he returned out of the darkness. “They look good to me.”

“Good!” the woman answered. “Would you get these 4 loaves and this one here and place them on the rack next to the oven, I’ll be back there in a minute.” Narayan’s small hands collected the loaves upon a seasoned bread board and soon he left the tented booth. Rholarowyn stood up tall for a moment and placed her hands upon her lower back and arched backwards to release the tension from bending over for half the day. Standing upright again she then glanced down at her clothing, a black shirt with its sleeves rolled up past her elbows, black pants tucked into her boots and a light muslin colored apron that fell to just above her knees. Closing her eyes she arched back again to feel the muscles release just a bit.

“Do you have any Sourdough?” Asked the masculine voice. Before opening her eyes and standing back up she asked. “How many loaves do you want?”

“Six...You know I could help you with that.” He smiled pointing to her back as she opened her eyes. “I’m sure you could.” Rholarowyn smiled politely trying to ignore the friendly gleam in his deep blue eyes. “We have six.” She answered quickly and grabbed a several pieces of thick paper. Narayan returned to see what was taking so long and helped wrap the last two loaves. The man watched the boy with caution and curiosity. His straight, dark black hair was just below his shoulders and his skin though lighter than those from the East was definitely darker than the Westron folks around here.

“Where are you headed?” Rholarowyn asked as she took his coins and Narayan handed him his order two loaves at a time. “Rohan,” he answered back. “I leave in the morning.”

“Rholarowyn! Rholarowyn!” The familiar voice of Joham the bakery booth owner was booming as he approached from down the row. “How are we doing with our little project?” He asked in his happy yet skeptical voice. “I don’t see any results.”

“That’s because we haven’t put them in the oven yet!” Narayan interjected proudly. “Well lets get to it boy.” He smiled escorting the young man out of the booth. “No wait!” Rholorowyn yelled stopping the forward momentum of enthusiasm. “What. You don’t trust me?” Joham asked feigning a look of shock as he raised his arms to his chest. “Not with this I don’t trust you!” The woman protested and grabbed a nearby latern. “I’ll see to the baking and you stay here to help customers.” With that Rholarowyn and Narayan removed themselves from the booth and made there way to the back area where the baking stove was. After placing the lantern high upon a nearby post, she carefully loaded the 5 loaves into the clay built oven and watched over her little treasure with the greatest of care.

“Mom, when are we going to leave for Rohan?” The boy asked peering into the mouth of the large orange glowing oven. “Soon Narayan, soon.”

The two stood silently and Rholarowyn stared into the stove for several minutes. “Excuse me…” The man going to Rohan had broken the silence, he then chuckled. Even in the night with the light from the post he could see the woman’s two handprints firmly pasted with flour upon her lower back. He then composed himself. “Are you Rholarowyn, the one from Minis Tirith, the one who used to ride with the Mithril Knights?”

“Yes.” She answered while turning around and examining him. “Do I know you?” He answered quickly. "No...no, but I know of you." As he extended his hand in greeting his six loaves suddenly shifted and soon he was losing in the balancing act. When three loaves hit the ground both the woman and the man knelt down to retrieve them, but before they stood up he looked over to her and whispered, “I thought you were dead…I mean I heard rumors that you had gone to the East and never returned.”

With the loaves recovered Rholarowyn quickly composed herself, gave Narayan two of the loaves to carry for the man, and stood up. “No…what is your name?”

“Ryomer,” he replied. The woman took a step back and paused, “No Ryomer,” she finally began with a tense voice. “Despite what you may have heard I am not in the East and I am not dead.”

“I see that…look I am sorry if I offended you, but you were not what I expected,” Ryomer continued. “I mean you were a shieldmadien and a Mithril Knight and now you are here, in this place, in an apron, with flour prints on your…”

“Mom! The bread.” Narayan yelled out.

Rholarowyn turned towards the oven and retrieved the 5 loaves just in time. The crust was still a light chocolate color but hardened and the smoky aroma was unlike any other bread that was made in the West. “Narayan, please go and tell Joham that the bread is finished and soon we can be done with our little bet.” The young boy quickly ran back to the booth still carrying the Rohirrim man’s two loaves of bread. With the 5 loaves now transferred to the breadboard, Rholarowyn began to make her way towards the booth. “You’re a mom too?” Ryomer whispered just loud enough for her to hear him. The woman stopped and turned towards those blue eyes, though she was surprised by what she saw. “Look I am sorry to disappoint you. Yes, I once was all of those things and now I bake and have a son.” Nothing more was said until the two rounded the corner to the booth.

“Let me see them, let me see!” Joham demanded as he made his way to the five loaves on the board. “Hmmmm…they look like bread, I’ll give them that much. But nothing is final until me and all my friends and guests actually taste them.” Joham then grabbed the breadboard and quickly headed out of the booth towards the musicians and all of the people sitting nearby. “Let’s go mom,” Narayan grabbed her hand.

“If you wish to be one of the judges,” Rholarowyn said to Ryomer, “you may leave your loaves here, they will be safe. Besides I could use a fellow Rohirrim on my side.” Ryomer set down his packages and soon followed the woman and her son.
.

[earendil81]

She had found a small inn, more like a small cottage arrange to accommodate a few guests at a time. It was ideal as she was looking for a calm setting; the common room was still big enough to welcome a couple of dozens people to eat or drink. Most people were probably going to spend the evening outside taking advantage of the agreeable temperature. She was told that there was a slightly bigger inn farther down the main road of the village, but she was perfectly happy there. She would probably stroll around the small streets before sleeping but still.

After paying for the night, she looked after her horse; she and the young stallion were still new to each other, as they were sharing their first trip together. There was no stable boy here and it was good as two of them were taming each other still. She was not the one to break the horse and he was the first one she had wanted to purchase since Erwen. He could not be more different: the mare was one of those rare black horses left in Middle Earth before the war and she was bred in the North, the stallion - Autumn - was a light chestnut from Rohan. Pulling her hair together in a loose coil, she took a brush and humming cleaned the horse. She pushed her nose into the horse's neck breathing in the smell she'd always loved, the smell that this day reminded her of home where she was headed eventually. All would be well.

None knew her here just yet; it was one place she had never stopped at in the years past and it was good. No fussing, no offers of a dinner with the village constable or honorable mayor to offer respect to the King in the South, whether they knew who she pledged her allegiance to or not. Sure all were under the rule of Elessar but once in a while one would recognize the Rohirrim mount she had. There was no mistaking the vambraces on her forearms when she was in full garb, which was happening less and less, but few recognized the brooch now if any. And as long as her hair was hiding it, there was none who could guess her heritage.

Back in the room, she was about to order dinner when someone rushed in.
"Joham is calling for a gathering."
She looked up as her waitress who shrugged with a smile.
"Sorry miss. When he calls, we go. He is our Master baker. You should come, you will have some sort of dinner. And if not, when we come back we'll get you some stew."
She shrugged in return.
"I am in no hurry, what is happening?"
"I don't know. Hey Guilhem, do you know what is happening?"
"Yes, there is a bet between him and the daughirin*..."
"Daughirin?" Eari asked.
"Don't ask me what it means," the waitress said, "this is the name one of the elves leaving Middle Earth gave her. But she never let us call her that."

She did not ask for the name of the woman. There were few women who could bear that kind of title and none of them were likely to be found here. Maybe in Minas Tirith or among the elves, but most of them would not want to be called like that if anyone knew what the name meant.


* warrior lady.

[Rholarowyn]

“Where are your manners, Joham!” the short, portly woman exclaimed as she pressed her way through the crowd and stopped at the table that Joham was standing on. “Trying to rig the contest are you?”

“Sallia, my wife, would I do such a thing?” he answered trying to look innocent.

“You are not going to throw those loaves out to the people like they are a pack of dogs.” She then set down the stack of small plates upon the ancient but well cared for wooden table. Beside her, a young female servant then placed a small crock of fresh butter. “We are going to let these people judge this bread fairly. Narayan would you come here and help me?”

The dark haired boy let go of Rholarowyn’s hand and pushed his way past the small crowd that had developed behind the table. “OK…OK…” Joham sighed knowing that his wife was going to do it her way. “My friends and guests of our fine village,” Joham began, his deep voice reaching those nearby, those standing on the short wall under the musician’s tree, and to those beyond the outskirts of the growing crowd, “My lady friend from Rohan has accepted my challenge and tonight you all shall all be the judges.” The town folk applauded with their typical fervor whenever one of Joham’s challenges made its way to the public square.

“Where did all these people come from?” Ryomer asked leaning in toward Rholarowyn. “Is this your first night in the town?” she asked back. The Rohirrim man nodded watching the group as the last few stragglers came to join in. Instantly Sillia emerged from the crowd in front of them. “Lady Rho, you must go and join him or he will claim all the attention for himself.” Sillia then turned to Ryomer, “Don’t you worry, I’ll be sure that she finds you again when this is all over.” The woman then winked and disappeared through the crowd with Rholarowyn following. Ryomer smiled again as he watched her go, she still had the two flour handprints embossed on the lower back portion of her black shirt. A few moments later he saw the former Mithril Knight rise up above the crowd and stand tall next to Joham who was a few inches taller.

“Rholarowyn!” The male voice grew louder. “RHOLAROWYN!” she turned around to see Ryomer’s head poking up from the back of the crowd. He yelled something she could not make out. She then saw as he reached up and pulled on the upper part of his worn tan shirt with both hands. “YOUR APRON!” he yelled again. Instantly she looked down. In a heartbeat her hands quickly untied the garment, rolled it into a haphazard ball, and threw it towards the Rohirrim. 'She still has a sense of aim.' Ryomer thought as he caught the ball of fabric with ease.

“Tonight you shall all taste something I did not create.” Joham’s voiced filled the air again. “You will each receive a piece of bread, all you need to do is taste it and then decide if it is something you would desire to eat again or if it is something you wouldn’t even use to poison your greatest enemy.” Joham then flinched as Rholarowyn affectionately elbowed him in his ribs and whispered. “Do you always have to be so dramatic?” Joham laughed. “Please,” he yelled out again, “Just taste it and once everyone has had a chance then we will take a vote.”

For the next 10 minutes Sillia, Narayan, and the servant girl passed out the plates with the sample bread and a small dab of fresh butter to all who were among the crowd. Rholarowyn stood next to Joham upon the table and listened to him share with her the details of another bet he had easily won four months ago. It had been about a month before she and Narayan had arrived.

.

[earendil81]

She had not thought she'd go to a gathering of any sorts. She was looking forward to a calm evening writing a message that she could probably not send anyways. But if she was to come and stop by during any other trip, she might not want to exclude herself from the community. And there would most certainly be another trip up and down the Greenway.

She heard someone yell a name, which she did not entirely catch as the boy called Guilhem was turning to her asking expectantly.
"Will you be coming too? Joham never loses a bet; it should be interesting to see if she wins this one. And it is always good to have people from outside to give their opinion."
She nodded; she sure could do that.

The child made to take her hand and she did not remove it; it caused her to smile as she let him guide her. They walked through the village and arrived at a big gathering of people, all cheering.
"Oh... we missed his introduction speech." the boy said disappointed.
"Ah but you'll have the food; it smells like bread... but with something else."
"I know but he always makes such good speech." The child really was disappointed, almost more than if he'd actually missed the food. She laughed softly. Looking up Guilhem smiled smugly. "I will be happy to eat you know... Can I get you something? So you don't have to go there..."
"If you want," she answered with a smile. Guilhem was really eager to help.

Her gaze followed him towards the middle of the crowd as he talked rapidly with another boy a little younger than himself. It may be dark as the sun had set but the boy who was handing out the pieces of bread was darker. His black hair and copper skin - or so it seemed in the light and shades created by the lanterns - testified of a southern background, maybe the East. Well she knew that there were female fighters in those regions but she had never met any; not that she had tried.

"Miss, here. Hope you like it."
"Thank you Guilhem. So tell me, do you know what the bet is about."
He shrugged... "Not really, but maybe more food."
She laughed before she tasted the piece he had given her. Shock overwhelmed her; she'd never tasted something so peculiar and yet amazingly different. She looked down at Guilhem who had actually taken 4 pieces from his friend and was literally stuffing himself with them.
"Gey're... sooooo. good." he said his mouth full. "Jooooam ij goa to loozhe zis time."
She smiled softly... They were really good. What were they made of, it was something she'd never tasted before.

[Rholarowyn]

“And that is how I won.” Joham finished sharing with the shieldmadien as Narayan, Sillia, and the servant girl returned the empty plates to the table. “Alright…everyone, EVERYONE,” Joham shouted from the table top. "It is now time to place your votes. Before me I have two baskets, both will be passed around to everyone. If you liked the bread you have just tasted please, take a small pebble from the ground and place it in the sage green basket, if you don’t like it, then place the pebble in the round, dark brown basket. Once everyone has cast their stone we will share the results.”

“Joham!” A loud male voice yelled from the very back,” What are the wages for this bet.”

“Ahh, Lowdrel, I will not give that away at this time,” The master baker yelled back. “Very soon you shall all know.”

Rholarowyn stood on the table and watched the crowd as the people bent over or offered little coins to the children to find them small pebbles for the vote. There was warmth in her heart as she realized how many of them had become good friends in the short time she’d been here. Granted a note requesting her acceptance into the village community by Elbren himself to the baker and his family hadn’t hurt, but after the last two years it was nice to be among normal people on a normal summers evening knowing that she and Narayan were now safe. She felt another tug of gratitude when she thought of how so many of the people had accepted Narayan too, though not at first. Rholarowyn had wondered what kind of reception he would receive once they were back out in the real world and no longer being protected by those who willingly offered her and her son refuge. Still, it was not until the old widow with the clouded eyes had given Narayan a special necklace that the town truly began to look beyond the color of his skin, hair, and heritage.

Finally the two baskets had made their rounds and were brought to the feet of Joham and Rholarowyn and set upon the table. The baker looked down, took inventory, and then returned his eyes to the crowd. “My friend’s how could you do this to me?” His voice was dramatic yet playful. “I am your town baker, your friend, and this is how you repay me? Clearly I was mistaken about you loyalty…Well I must say that the results are close.” Rholarowyn did her best to keep a straight face but finally the smile broke through, anyone looking at the contents of the baskets could see that in fact the results were clearly in her favor.

“It is with much regret that I must inform you all that I have indeed lost this bet and my sheildmaiden friend from Rohan has won.” The crowd remained silent, purposely adding to Joham’s drama. “O.K. fine…as per the terms of our agreement, me and my family…all 16 of us, will now prepare a dinner feast unlike you have ever had before…”The crowd erupted with overwhelming applause “…and, AND, we shall have more of this bread with our feast, if Rholarowyn would be willing to show me how she managed to make something edible from that sack of useless flour that I thought Sillia had thrown away a year ago.” The crowd erupted again.

“Well, alright then, I best get going if I’m going to have something prepared for you all at a reasonable hour. Please everyone, make yourselves at home. We have a few booths open for drinks and ale, and musicians; will you please entertain us with some music for dancing while I go busy myself with the preparations?”

Joham then turned to Rholarowyn, “My Lady,” he stated as he turned around, held out his hand, and helped her down from the table. Soon he was standing next to her. “Joham,” Rholarowyn asked, “How are you going to prepare food for all of these people tonight?” He answered quickly, “Do not worry my friend, with these feast everyone in town helps out with the cooking and the baking and the fresh dishes. We shall have a feast ready to eat in one hour, maybe two. However, I could use your help. Would you and Narayan bake some more of your bread for the feast? Once you are at your booth there will be several women who will come to join in and help. I am sure of it.”

The shieldmaiden smiled. “You know Joham, this wasn’t’ part of the bet and I still expect my prize, but for tonight I will gladly help with preparing for the feast and will make as many loaves as I can with the mesquite flour that is left.” Joham did a slight bow, “Thank you, and do not worry I will not forget what I promised you.”

“Joham!” Sillia’s voice rang out from a short distance away, “You better get yourself home and start cooking or we will be up all night.”

The baker quickly dashed off and Rholarowyn and Narayan began to work their way through the crowd. Several people congratulated her with handshakes and compliments as the two headed towards the baking booth. Once there Rholarowyn began to take inventory of their stock. “Narayan, we have enough here to get started on several loaves, but we will need to make a run back to Joham’s house for the rest of the flour and some more milk and herbs.”

“Would you like an extra pair of hands to help?” It was Ryomer standing at the edge of the booth. “Have you ever baked before? The shieldmaiden asked. “Well…ah, yes…a few times, anyway.” He answered. “Great! Put that on.” Rholarowyn instructed as she pointed to the fabric apron ball still rolled up in his hands. She then pulled another apron down off the peg and quickly tied it around her waist. “Alright, let’s get started…”

.

[earendil81]

She had not hesitated on how she would cast her vote; neither had Guilhem in fact. He in fact tried to put in two pebbles in the sage basket; she whispered.
"You don't want to be cheating, do you now?"
"Oh no miss, I am voting for you aren't I?"
She laughed softly. "Sure Guilhem you are. Thank you."

Then Joham spoke and she smiled as she started to understand why Guilhem would not want to miss his speeches. He knew how to please a crowd and catch their attention.

She raised an eyebrow at the title given to the woman who had baked the bread: shieldmaiden of Rohan. There was one who carried that title some years ago and she was now Princess in Ithilien. There probably were a few who could bear it still, but one who would also have been renamed Lady of War by the elves, there were not that many. In fact, only one that she could think of as that name had not even been bestowed upon her. And it was so unlikely this woman could be here that she did not dare linger on the thought.

Yet, a moment later a name was pronounced that she had not heard in years; one name that she had missed; the name that was once an integral part of her her life and that she had thought never to hear again. And she was a warrior lady, as well as a member of the Mithril Knights, which was why the name was given to her in the first place. She could feel her all body tremble with the sheer excitement of hearing Rholarowyn's name again. And yet she could not really walk to the woman and embrace her as she would have in the days of old for they had not seen each other for so long, close to ten years in truth. Ten years was not long in the counting of the elves or for that matter in the Numenorean but she still was young in both and it was a long time for the woman who was Gondorian before anything else like herself.

She walked to the booth but the shieldmaiden was talking to another Rohirrim who had donned an apron as well. They were busy working some dough preparing some more bread for the feast promised by Joham. She stood a few feet away from the booth observing the woman and the child who was apparently hers with whom Guilhem had spoken earlier. Her self appointed guide was actually still tagging along.

"Do you want me to introduce you to the daughirin?"
She smiled. "Do you know what this word means Guilhem?" she asked in a whisper.
"No, I don't but it sounds nice. Do you?"
She nodded.
"I surely do for it is the language of my kin."
His eyes bulged. "can you tell me?" He was not realizing what she was saying, only excited by the knowledge she held.
She did not answer just yet and he added. "I'll do anything."
It caused her to laugh; a child in search of a secret and a way to find out.
"You don't have to do anything Guilhem. It means lady of war or warrior lady in the language of the elves."

His face went from expectation to sheer excitement. "Do you know more words in that language?"
"I do..."
"Guilhem!!" a voice called. He turned around and back to her.
"Sorry miss, it's my mum, we need to help with the feast. Can I search for you later. I'd love to hear more words."
"If you can find me in that crowd sure."
"Oh I will find you, you are the only one who carries the tree of Gondor on your forearms."
She laughed then; oh what a clever boy. He made her think of another one at home who was only a couple of years younger.
"I shall see you then."

[Rholarowyn]

Though the woman and the Rohirrim were busy reminiscing about their home land, Nayaran did not miss the shout of his friend’s name being called or the sight of him saying good-bye to the stranger and then returning towards the crowd at a slow run. “Mom! Can I go tell Guilhem that I can spend the night at his house?...I’ll be right back.”

“Yes go, and please pick up some more fermented milk and flour from Joham’s house…” Rholarowyn answered brushing a few wispy hairs from her view with the back of her forearm. “Oh yes, and get some more of that syrup from our room.” The boy barely wiped off his hands as he then exited out of the booth running the same footpath of his friend.

“Guilhem…GUILHEM…”

The shieldmaiden and the Rohirrim laughed as the excited voice trailed off disappearing into a sea of people and their voices. “Rholarowyn,” Ryomer began and then paused as he watched her take the last of the kneaded dough from the bowl and began to give it shape. “How long has it been? How long has it been since you’ve seen Rohan?” Her hands stopped forming the loaf but her eyes remained focused downward. “Years Ryomer…many, many years.” She finally answered looking up directly towards him.

“Can we help?” rang out the two voices in unison breaking the moment. The two inside the booth looked out to see two young women outside the booth. One with long blonde was slightly taller and the other had dark brown hair which was pulled up with pins that were adorned with white pedaled flower. Both were wearing bright colored blouses which fit nicely and accentuated their youthful forms while their skirts were stitched from a variety of lightweight fabrics which would flow easily with the motion of dance. Neither Ryomer nor the woman missed that there brown eyes were ablaze with adoration for the Rohirrim man. “I’ll leave that up for you to decide Ryomer?” Rholarowyn grinned. “I need to go get these loaves into the oven.”

Out behind the booth Rholarowyn set down the breadboard beside the clay oven and picked up a long, gnarled stick Narayan had been using to keep the coal fresh. She knelt down and began to refresh the coals to even out the heat and then picked up the long handled board and slowly began to set each of the 8 loaves upon the shelves. As they began to bake the Rohirrim woman remained on her knee staring into the fiery orange coals.

.

[earendil81]

The dark skinned child ran after Guilhem in a comical way; she smiled softly. Boys would be boys. If she'd heard right he was going to spend the night at his friend's place. Her gaze followed the two boys running into the crowd and to their respective tasks and lingered on the people of the village for a while before returning to Rholarowyn and the man she was speaking with. He was from Rohan but not a man she recognized; not that she knew all the Rohirrim mind you, but he looked like a soldier of some sort and she had met most of them in her time there.

Whatever question he was asking she voluntarily ignored; she maybe capable of doing it but she was not going to eavesdrop on their conversation. Still she was aching to go speak to the woman who once was a friend so dear. Years might have seen them grow apart, no in fact it was not even that. They had not seen each other since... before it all began. It was in Minas Tirith a shiny but chilly day of spring for a festival she had to leave. She had left in a hurry and had not had the chance to speak to many about this. And a message can never carry enough even though it is an explanation of sort.

Two young women approached the booth and started chattering happily with the Rohirrim Rider - she had to assume he was one of them - as the Gondorian woman moved away and out the booth. She could not help herself, she had to follow the shieldmaiden there. Out of habit she used stealth; no longer needed in this world and yet always ingrained in her body. So her friend would not hear her as she approached. Maybe she would not have heard anyways as she was intently looking at the oven and it fiery coals. She wondered for just a moment if she should interrupt; maybe the cooking of this bread required concentration and some precise timing that she was unaware of. Still... she had never been shy. She would not start now with someone whom she knew so well before.

"Excuse me... Rholarowyn of Gondor?" she whispered. There was no point causing the woman to startle. And she knew that startling this one might bring out a weapon of any kind. At least that used to be the case. But she used the name of Gondor with a purpose: that the woman could guess it was a friend from a past not so long gone hopefully.

[Rholarowyn]

The fire had long since gone out the but the embers were still radiating a deep glowing orange as she stared into them. She could still hear his breathing as he sat next to her and his large body blocking the late evening breeze from penetrating to her core. Her 14 year old body felt as though she'd been thrown from a horse and drug through the hardened streets of the White City. It was her own doing. She had been the one to steal a horse from the royal stable. She had been the one who had run away, and she had been the one to challenge him. To his credit or demise Boromir had been the one to find her. Two days out from Minas Tirith escaping to Rohan. Though they were cousins, there had never been a love between the two since she’d come to live in Minas Tirith a year and a half ago. He believed her to be a spoiled girl who needed a strong hand and to be put in her place. She believed him to be a arrogant and pretentious man whose successes in battle had made the man believe he was a god.

Yet fate had brought them together in the late afternoon near a tree lined meadow whose grass was still green. She had taken refuge under the nearby trees. Their intertwined canopies blocked the sun and provided the needed shadows to remain unseen from the rider approaching fast on his bay steed. The young woman had jumped down from the saddle keeping her mount still. However, the grey gelding had no intentions of keeping quiet and when his stable mate approached he let out a loud whinny in greeting. Her hand quickly covered his nostrils but it was too late. A few moments later Boromir approached the tree line not far from them and demanded her presence. The gelding was dancing a jig in anticipation of saying hello and finally the young woman emerged with the reins in her hand leading mount as he skipped along side.

“You stole the wrong horse.” Boromir mocked with a grin from high in his saddle.

The young woman stormed passed blasting him a cold defiant look and then stuck one foot into the stirrup. “Your not stopping me!” She shot back as the grey gelding continued to circle in excitement forcing the young woman to dance around on one foot as she tried to remount. Her horse continued to circle towards Boromir’s horse while the blonde haired woman kept twisting the reins to keep him away. Finally the gelding bolted sideways in frustration and she quickly pulled her foot free and released the reins. With his new found freedom the gelding quickly trotted over to the other horse and stopped muzzle to muzzle. Boromir reached down and picked up the loose reins and tied them to his saddle.

“Fine then…” her voice flared. “I’ll walk to Rohan! I don’t need you, or that horse, or any of you…I’ll find someone in Rohan to teach me to be a warrior!” and she stormed off stomping her feet through the thick grass that kept grasping at her ankles. (Later she would learn that Boromir almost did let her walk on to Rohan thinking it would be better, or at least more peaceful in the Steward’s home, without her around.)

The woman hadn’t walked a hundred yards before the man and two horses were beside her again. His best attempt at being nice was met with a wall of silence, he then tied reasoning with the young woman, but she kept that determined walk and ignored any and all of his words. Finally in his own frustration the Steward’s son dismounted and dropped the reins, “Rholarowyn! I don’t care if I have to carry you back to Gondor belly down on my saddle, you ARE NOT going to Rohan!!” Boromir then grabbed the woman from behind and spun her around to face him.

In an instant she unsheathed her sword and held it up between them catching the brown haired man off guard. However, he saw the determined look in her green eyes. “You wish to fight me?” He asked half amazed and half amused.

“Lay another hand on me and I will cut it off!” She answered with more conviction in her voice than he’d ever heard before.

“Alright…we will do it your way.” Boromir laughed as he unsheathed his sword, yet he was unprepared for the force of fury that lunged towards him. Her blade stuck his with such a violent energy that he stumbled backwards, though he quickly regain his balance. His movements with the sword became defensive as the woman mounted one assault after another. Her trained muscles were engaging in their first real battle, responding to the anger held down deep within her soul. It wasn’t long before Boromir realized that both Culinar and Rholarowyn had both spoken the truth. They had not been engaged in a secret love affair with their late night meetings as everyone had accused. The Gondorian solder had indeed been training her with the sword.

The woman finally realized that Boromir was not attacking, he was just maneuvering to save himself from harm and letting her place one blow after another. “FIGHT ME!” she finally yelled as small streams of sweat began to drip off her face. Sensing her growing weariness he complied somewhat, and took the offensive though it was more to evaluate her skills than to engage in a full on attack. The sound of metal against metal rang out across the empty meadow. Back and forth the two fought until finally Boromir's sword caught her blade and ripped the hilt from her exhausted grasp flinging the sharp edged weapon off into the grass.

The young woman stood staring at Boromir. Strands of loose hair stuck to her face as she heaved heavily. Every cell in her body cried out for air. The Steward's son remained still, staring back with his sword down. It’s tip resting gently upon the cooling ground. Finally the spell broke and he walked over to where her sword rested. Pulling it up from the tangled long grass he then returned to his cousin and handed the weapon back hilt first. “I will go make a fire and prepare a meal. We’ll camp here tonight.” The Steward's niece slowly re-sheathed her sword as Boromir walked away and then she collapsed. With her back flat against the hardened earth her body still sought needed air. Closing her eyes, the world around her continued to darken as the sun slowly sank behind the distant hills.

Later, under the starlit sky the two would share a meal beside the campfire and then later they would talk. Once the flames died down and only the coals glowed the two would remain silent, yet next to each other, long into the night. It was then, during this time, while staring into the coals that Rholarowyn confirmed in her heart that she was to be a warrior and now there were two men in her life who believed her…”

"Excuse me... Rholarowyn of Gondor?”

The whisper broke through and the coals of 21 years ago became the coals in the clay oven baking the mesquite bread on this warm summer evening. Without answering Rholarowyn slowly stood up and then turned around. There she was, her warrior sister from all those years ago.

“Eari.” She whispered back. Rholarowyn hesitated only for a moment. There was a time when her friend did not enjoy being embraced, but in this moment, here tonight, the shieldmaiden took her chances.

.

[earendil81]

As the shieldmaiden turned to face her it seemed that she had just been lost in a memory. Her eyes took her in though and in an instant Rhoe had embraced her fully; it felt so fast that she was dumbfounded for just a moment. She had not expected this; being taken in as if no time had passed, as if that message she left back then had not been an abandonment of sort.

It had been ten years and yet as soon it seemed that these had never gone by. Gingerly she brought her arms around her friend. They were not sister except in war but they became friends then; in her she had found a confidante, one who was like minded, both warrior before they were women. And still, if the dark skinned boy was hers, they had both changed in these years they were apart. It seemed so obvious that it could have caused her to laugh but the truth was that she was overwhelmed.

She had come to terms with the fact that Rhoe may have died as none had heard of her after the last festival they met at; and the shieldmaiden had been close to both Bryttar and Faramir so she would have let them know of her whereabouts if she could. It had hurt her badly the more so because she left Minas Tirith without saying good bye to her friend and here she was. She stifled a sigh and said with a choked laugh.

"I am glad to see you alive and well my friend."

She paused to regain some control of her emotion and slowly moving away from her friend, she observed her. The years had settled well on Rholarowyn; there seemed to be an acceptance in her eyes, one that she could probably see in her own, but the smile was the same as ten years before.

"I thought..." She could not finish; maybe that was what the Rohirrim told her only moments before.

[Rholarowyn]

“I know…” Rholarowyn spoke softly, “…you thought I was dead.” The pain in her friend’s eyes could not be missed as she nodded. “Eari, you aren’t the first to tell me this, though you are the first of my friends or family to confirm what I’d feared.” The shieldmaiden looked beyond her friend towards a couple snuggling on a nearby bench and then remembered the bread. “Please, will you join me; I need to wait until the loaves are finished.”

The two warrior sisters made their way to the clay oven. Rholarowyn checked on the bread as Eari pulled up two chairs not far away. They both then sat down. “It still needs some time.” Rholarowyn stated as she joined her friend sitting in the other chair. The aroma of fresh baked mesquite bread was beginning to fill the air.

Even though it was evening there was still enough light being cast from the lanterns that the shieldmaiden could see the change on her warrior friend’s face. There was more grace accompanied with a new sense of wisdom in her eyes. Finally she spoke, “Eari, everything…back then, it all happened so fast. One day we are all celebrating the victories of Gondor in our youth at the King’s Feast in Minas Tirith and then suddenly everything changed. Not long after you left I got called to the East…things did not go according to plan. The ties I had made, the pledges I had vowed…well, I went blindly into a hornet’s nest and I found myself stuck in a strange land unable to trust the very one’s I’d been sent there to help…” Her voice trailed off for a moment she then reached out and gently grasped her friend’s hand. Looking directly into her friend’s eyes she spoke softly again, “I’m sorry Eari, I am so sorry. We should have said good bye…if nothing else we should have said good-bye.”

.

[earendil81]

“I’m sorry Eari, I am so sorry. We should have said good bye…if nothing else we should have said good-bye.”

She smiled sadly; it was the truth. And yet, no one could be blamed.
When he left Minas Tirith to reach Imladris, Eari had known she would never see Boromir again. Faramir even chided her for voicing out loud that knowledge when she had only just advised his brother never to give up hope if they wanted to conquer. But she was right then. And when she left the White City, sent away to the North by the King, she did not feel that need to say good by. She had felt that she would see them again.

She had never felt in her heart that Rholarowyn was dead and she denied the knowledge brought to them by others for long. She refused to lose her friend the way she lost her own cousin, without saying good bye. It took time, years in fact, with no news at all and the knowledge, the certainty that if she had been alive she would have found a way to let her family know of her whereabouts for her to accept the notion that she would not see Rholarowyn again. Even surrounded as she was at the time it was difficult and only the coming of Naeriel had soothed the pain slightly. The guilt left slowly and she accepted that sometimes, as with Halbarad, she might not have foreseen the death of one she cared for. And she had kept the hope in her heart that her friend had gone while carrying some good deed.

She wondered if Rhoe felt the same way she felt right now. Back then, during the war, she was captured and sent to Nurnen. Even she thought that the only possible outcome was death and she was more than surprised to have made it through. How did Rhoe feel when she was told that in spite of everything her friends had survived the scouring of Ithilien? Had she felt the anxiousness of the changes in the sister, the relief, the fear of what would hold for them and the joy all at once?
Did the fear leave quickly as the certain knowledge that they somehow belonged together and would not let the other by herself for as long as they could?

"Who could have thought life would go like that? I left without thinking you would not be there upon my return. And I did not come back before a long while. I am just glad to see you here my friend."

[Rholarowyn]

“…and I am happy to see you…you are the first, well the first person I have seen since from my past since…well since…” The sheildmaiden stopped realizing there was no easy explanation to help her friend understand the last two years of her life much less the last ten years. “Let’s just say we have much to catch up on.”

“Excuse me, Rholarowyn.” The mature female voice came from behind them. “I don’t mean to interrupt but I have some more bread ready for baking.” Rholarowyn rose, “Please, Milithia, come and meet an old friend of mine.” The plump grey haired woman came forward with a breadboard full of doughy treats. The shieldmadien took the wooden tray then set it down not far from the oven. “This is Eari, Eari this is Milithia one of the wise women of the village.”

Milithia wiped her hands upon the stained apron and greeted the newcomer warmly; she then turned back to the shieldmaiden. “Narayan hasn’t returned yet with the needed supplies for your bread so we have been improvising…I think you will like these, they’re from an old family recipe…I’m not sure about the other goodies that you may soon see though...” The old woman chuckled and then continued “…it appears Ryomer has himself a harem of young women in your booth all vying for his attentions. It is quite humorous to watch if I do say so.”

Rholarowyn chuckled with her friend, “Perhaps it would be best if you took charge Milithia, would you please ask Ryomer to go find Narayan and see if he needs help, I sent him to Joham’s house.”

“Gladly!” Milithia answered with a smile. “…and perhaps I shall share with the young ladies a few tips on the finer arts of gaining positive attention from the male of the species.”

As the woman left Rholarowyn turned and checked the bread noting it was done. With the long wooden spatula she then began removing the individual loaves. Once finished she placed the doughy pastries into the oven and then stood up turning to her Gondorian friend, “I fear we won’t have any time alone, not on this evening anyway. How long are you staying in the village?”

.

[earendil81]

As the woman left laughing, Eari looked back at her friend.

"We do have a lot to catch up on. And I guess Narayan is a full story in himself." There was a question in her voice, one that she did not need to hide. Her friend once said that there would be no man in her life unless married and even though at the time it was somehow a laughable and unlikely prospect for both of them, she could not her imagine Rholarowyn denying that vow.

"But if we can't we do not have to rush and speak tonight. I can and will stay here for a little while. I am not supposed to arrive in Tharbad before another couple of weeks." A question in her friend's raised eyebrow; maybe not but she shrugged smiling. "They never seem to remember that I don't like staying in Fornost for long so I am always arriving too early and unexpected. I think their constable hates me for that." She chuckled. "Maybe for once I can indulge him and his schedule. Although I would rather be back in Rohan before my appointed time. It has been a longer trip than usual."

She might have continued on that path, but they were interrupted again, this time by Rholarowyn's own son chatting somewhat vehemently with Ryomer. Whatever the subject of their talk was, it seemed the child was engaged. It made her smile. She could only guess at the child's father; and each guess could be wilder than the next. The only thing she could figure out was that the child was of Easterling descent. One piece of the past of Rho...

[earendil81]

... dp

[Rholarowyn]

Ryomer had found the boy not to far from the plaza square sitting on the ground. In one hand was a small wooden wheel about 6” round and he was tinkering t with something in the middle. Next to him was a small wooden wagon full of flour, fermented milk, and other necessary supplies stacked in makeshift boxes. The wagon rested upon a small grey boulder keeping it stable for the moment.

“What happened?” The Rohirrim enquired as he knelt down.

“This piece broke and got stuck in here.” Nayaran answered.

“Let me see if I can help.” Ryomer sat down next to the boy who handed him the broken wheel and examined it carefully. “See here,” the Rohirrim started, “this piece bent and then snapped, all we need to do if find a nail or some small piece of straight metal to replace it temporary then we can get these supplies to you mother.”

The boy studied the problem for a moment and then jumped up. “I’ll be right back!” Ryomer remained sitting upon the dirt road watching the others as they quickly passed by all in anticipation for the upcoming feast. “Will this work!” Narayan returned slightly out of breath. “Yes, yes, I think it will,” Ryomer answered taking the horseshoe nail from the boy’s hand.

Together they worked, Ryomer sharing with the boy the how to make the repair and letting him do the actual work.

“I think it’s done.” The Rohirrim said standing up. “Let’s see if it works”

Grabbing hold of the wooden handle, Narayan began to gently pull the cart forward with Ryomer at his side. “It’s working!” The boy announced with a sense of pride. While two continued to walk through the plaza area the young Easterling looked up at Ryomer. “Have you ever been to Rohan?” The man chuckled, “I was born in Rohan and have lived there most of my life…except when I was in battle.”

“You’re a soldier?” Narayan’s eyes grew large.

“I was, does that surprise you?”

“No,” the boy answered. “You are just the first Rohan man soldier I have met.”

Ryomer laughed wondering who all this boy might have met in his short life. The two reached the booth and dropped of the cart to Milithia. The small gathering of women were now orderly working various shapes of dough in an organized fashion. “Here are the rest of the supplies,” the Rohirrim announced. Once they learned from Milithia Rholarowyn’s location, they moved on.

“We are going to Rohan soon; my Mom has told me all about the Festival of the Horse. Have you ever been?”

“I have been many times,” Ryomer answered as they turned the corner and saw the shieldmaiden standing next to another woman. “You will have fun there, and if you are a good rider there are several contests you can enter.”

“I am a good rider…do they have archery too?” The young boy then noticed the extra person. “Hi Mom, who is your new friend?”

“Narayan, Ryomer, this is Eari, an old friend of mine from Gondor. Eari, this is Nayaran, my son, and Ryomer.” Once the official greetings and hand shaking was finished Ryomer spoke up, “The supplies have been delivered to your booth.”

“Narayan, would you like to stay here and teach Ryomer how we bake the mesquite bread?” Rholarowyn asked.

“Yes mom, and he can tell me more about the Festival of the Horse.”

The woman looked up to the Rohirrim and smiled, “You may be in for an evening of nothing but questions.” Ryomer nodded pleasantly.

Eari quickly agreed to help with the bread preparations and the two friends returned to the booth. As batches of loaves were prepared each young girl took a turn taking the bread back to the oven so Milithia would only loose sight of them one at a time

After a few hours the crowd in the plaza grew to large numbers. Long tables were arranged, some for the food and others for the people. The aromas of fresh cooked meats, stewed vegetables, and sweet baked goods all filled the air in a feast for the senses. When Joham returned to the plaza with his contributions he insisted that Eari and Ryomer join him and his family, along with Rholarowyn and her son, at their table. Once he blessed the food and all who were in attendance everyone was seated.

.

[earendil81]

As she was helping with the preparation of the bread, Eari was reminded of another meal prepared for an entire town. It caused her to smile as she followed Rhoe's instructions to prepare that special bread they had tasted only moments before. She was mixing the dough, preparing the loaves handing them out to Milithia who would then decide which girl would bring it to the oven.

Milithia looked at her at one point a smile on her face.
"You look like a soldier, like our Rholarowyn." They had adopted her; a nice note. "Yet you handle yourself pretty well in a kitchen." It was a statement, one that did not really ask for an answer but she gave one anyone anyway, just as much for Milithia as for Rhoe's sake.
"Well, Rohan has made me more of a woman than I thought I could be. And now I see food not only as something needed to sustain oneself but to enjoy with loved ones and friends."
"Rohan? Those are Gondorian colours." She pointed at the vambraces Eari had removed before helping.
"Indeed you have a sharp mind. I do serve the White Tower but I have lived in Rohan for some time." She looked at Rhoe; she had been in Rohan for almost as long as she had not seen her friend. But every year she would go to the Citadel, reporting to the King as he once requested from her, and taking any mission or order he would give her. She always hoped to hear from Rholarowyn, at least the first years... And she had acted as a messenger between Edoras and Minas Tirith more than once but she was trusted with information and duties in the North, which she hoped would soon stop. She had other reasons now, other duties... to other people.

Finally the meal was ready and she was invited to Joham's table: a great honour as she was only a stranger, a passer-by really in this town. She had skirted around it on her way North; maybe a good thing maybe. She nodded in thanks as he went into a speech about friends, and family and gathering around a meal in honour of guests newly arrived or not. As he spoke her mind wandered to that other meal, that other evening...

"Eari come on, they're waiting."
"I know, I know."
The arms came around her in a welcome embrace. She leaned in taking in the warm comfort.
"It's a present you know."
"I do. It's just."
"I know, she's not here."
She shrugged slightly looking down as he kissed her on the neck softly, a teasing one as he would do quite often. She laughed.
"She looks like you. She'll be just as blond as you are."
"Ah but tis only fair. She got your eyes. She'll give me trouble."
"But you are trouble Rohan." She laughed again before she picked up the baby girl from the cradle. It was her naming day and the all village was here to attend and witness. They all spent hours the morning to prepare bread and a meal that would feed everyone.

She had dressed her in a dark blue dress, one that Iriliaen had sewed for the child. It was more money that she would ever spend for herself but then it was her daughter's naming day. The child would no longer belong exclusively to them who only had known how to call her: she would belong to the community. A good thing in truth but still. The baby reached out and grabbed one of her locks of hair as she had not tied it. Gently she freed herself from the child's hold and gave her to her father. They left the room to wait for her outside. Swiftly, she brushed her hair - so long, she never had it this long before - and dressed it in a loose coil then met her family outside.
As they made it to the centre of village, everyone was here, tables placed around a dais where the child would named officially. It was as grand as it would be for a wedding and everyone was wearing their best clothes.

After the naming of Naeriel, food and wine had been distributed all around; still feeding the child, she had declined but the food she enjoyed. The party had been going on in honour of the little girl long after she was asleep but the sense of friendship and belonging was so deep that she sighed content. She was part of the community even though she was not Rohirrim, even though she was only half-mortal...

Just like now.
"Miss, Miss" she snapped out of her "daydreaming" as Guilhem was vying for her attention from another table. She motioned him over.
"Yes, Guilhem."
"You remember my name."
"Of course I do. I haven't met enough bo... young men as nice as yourself to have forgotten."
"I can't sit next to you but I thought I could ask you to speak to me again in the language of earlier."
"How about you do something for me and I'll do better than that?"
"Sure..."

She whispered something in his ears and his eyes widened.
"Really?" he breathed.
"Sure."
"Yes. I'll be right back."

And the child ran to do what she'd asked as she returned to the present and took interest in the discussions around her. She was not just by Rholarowyn, but close enough that they could exchange if they would.

[Rholarowyn]

Rholarowyn laughed along with the others as Joham finished up his latest tale, an adventure from his youth. People’s plates were empty and many of the dishes were now cleaned out, the dinner portion of the feast was almost over.

“We need music!” Joham yelled as he stood at the head of the table. “Come my wife, will you join me?” He asked holding out his hand. “Of course…”Sillia replied pleasantly. The two then moved to the open area near the large oak tree where the musicians were sitting earlier. Soon the sound of enthusiastic notes filled the air as other began to join in the festive dance.

Narayan jumped from the table and disappeared into the crowd before Rholarowyn knew what he was up to. Knowing he’d be fine, it was then that she rose from her seat and maneuvered herself to a chair just to the left of her friend and sat down. Ryomer was to Eari’s right.

“We’re a long way from Minas Tirith.” The shieldmadien spoke loudly for Eari to hear as she watched the dancing crowd grow larger. “But they are good people and they're more of a community than some of the smaller villiages we have been to.” Rholarowyn thought back to a couple of the adventures she had shared with Eari and smiled. “Please, tell me.” Rholarowyn continued as she leaned towards the other woman. “What have you been doing for the last ten years of your life?”

.

[earendil81]

“What have you been doing for the last ten years of your life?”


How does one answer such a question? So much had happened, so much had changed.
"Do you have a week?" she asked with a smile. "In all fairness, I haven't been doing anything worthy of glory, but much has changed, not unlike you I imagine. Only I did not go as far as you seem to have gone." Her eyes wandered to where Rhoe's child had gone.

"I have been in Rohan mostly, with a regular travel to the Citadel to report to the King and then a yearly travel to Arnor. The reason I am here. Truth be told, I don't quite enjoy being in these parts, even if it is not as haunting to me as it once was." She shrugged. "I guess I am still the only one left who knows the northern roads, well travelled or not, as much as the King. And a peredhel that I know of but she does not serve the White Tower. So I have remained in the service of Gondor. Not a surprise I guess, she smiled to her friend. "I am eager to go back to Rohan and to..."

"Miss, Miss!" Guilhem was coming back bringing with him what she had asked. The package looked slightly wider than arm length and he was walking gingerly trying not to let it fall. Within a few moments though he had handed it to her. "What is it?" he asked before blushing.
"Sorry Mistress Rholarowyn, I did not mean to interrupt. But she knew what it means the title that this elf gave you when you were only arriving. Do you know what it means? Is it why you would not have us call you that?" The child was eager and excited, would not listen to Rhoe's answer and turned back to her. "Why is it you can speak this language too miss? I thought it's only them elves who speak it, and royalty... Are you?"
"What? Royalty? Me?" She exchanged a glance with Rhoe before dissolving into laughter; she could hear Rhoe chuckling too. As if either of them ever behaved like ladies anyway.
"No, definitely not royalty. But I am what people call a half-elf," she said pushing her hair from her ear revealing its pointy end. The child could barely prevent himself from moving his hand there, but refrained. She was somewhat impressed and definitely grateful for the restraint for many grown men would not show it. Even Ryomer's eyes had grown wider.

"I knew the King had elf friends and even some relatives through the Queen, but it seems like a legend most of the time. So few are left in this world."
"Tis true, and yet in fair Ithilien where the White Lady of Rohan now dwells, there is a colony of elves led by Legolas, son of Thranduil."
"Yes, but few of us ever go there, only those who accompany the king when he visits his sister. And I did not know there were any in Rohan."
"There may be more than you know..."
"Anyway, what's in the bag?" piped Guilhem.
She laughed and looked back at her friend, as she uncovered the lyre that had accompanied her for years.
"One thing has not changed my friend is my belonging to the Bards. There was a time we would do music together. Would you play with me tonight? In remembrance?"

[Rholarowyn]

Memories of nights by the fire, performing at Guild festivals, and times when just she and Eari would tucked themselves deep into heart of the White Tower seeking rest and solace with the lute and flute, came flooding back as Rholarowyn looked at the familiar instrument. The shieldmadien had been experiencing more and more moments like this, something, someone, or some phrase would release a memory from her past in recognition of her life before. While in the East her thoughts and remembrances of her younger days in this land were not forgotten, most were just tucked away as she learned to deal with a culture so different that the two she was raised in.

At the site of the guest and friend of Rholarowyn with a lute in her hand, Joham, still at the end of the table, jumped to his feet. “Everyone! Everyone!” He exclaimed. Rholarowyn was still amazed at how the crowd would instantly respond when ever he spoke. He was not a leader or a man who wanted those responsibilities, he was more of an entertainer, though it was obvious the town folk loved him and would do his bidding out of there affection for him whenever he asked. “Tonight one of our special visitors would like to share some of her musical talent with us.”

Joham then left his spot and made his way over to Eari and offered her his elbow. Eari whispered something into his ear and Joham’s smile grew. He turned back and extended his other arm to Rholarowyn. With the two women, one on each side he escorted them to the small raised area. The other musicians placed their instruments down gently. After a short discussion, the fiddle player handed the shieldmadien his instrument and then left the stage.

“Tonight,” Joham began, “we have two members of the Bards Guild who have offered to perform for us some of their favorite stories and song.” The crowd erupted widely while Rholarowyn whispered to Eari, “I haven’t touched this instrument in 10 years.” Joham left the stage and soon Eari and Rholarowyn were playing some of their favorite songs from the past. The two women took turns singing and when the town fold knew the words they would join in. Everyone’s favorite, adults and children alike was definitely ‘The Land of Talking Trees.’ Night slipped by accompanied by the music and soon an hour and a half had past. The crowd had joined in and was dancing to anything that remotely had a beat. The normal dance area proved too small so at one point the tables had been pushed aside haphazardly to enlarge the area.

Finally with the ache in her fingertips almost unbearable, Rholarowyn set down the fiddle. Eari too decided that it was a good time to stop. The other musicians returned to the stage while the two women stepped down washed in the applause of a grateful audience. They found a bench not too far from the dancing crowd and sat down to watch the entertainment. “Mom, mom!” came the familiar voice of Nayaran. “Here you should play them a song with this.” In her young sons extended hands was a velvet bag containing a flute that had been giving to her by another Bard, Nin, along time ago. She had asked Nin to name the flute at the time, and her friend had. Though she couldn’t remember the name in the other language, its meaning in Westron was Dances with Wolves. Rholarowyn took the special gift from his hands and then tucked it into her tunic. “Perhaps I will play a song or two later, for now I would like to spend some time with my friend.” She smiled back. Nayaran looked at Eari proudly, “She is a great player and one of the best in my village back home!” The words “back home” pierced Rholarowyn’s heart but she did her best to hide the reaction from her son. “I’m going to go find Ryomer, he said he would share some stories about Rohan with me,” and with that Nayaran turned and disappeared into the dancing crowd. “Ah, children,” Rholarowyn spoke aloud to Eari though a sadness still echoed in her voice, “they think their parents are the best at everything and can do anything perfectly.”

She then turned and looked at Eari whose face was illuminated by the oil lighted lanterns encircling the entire plaza area. “It is so good to see you…it is so good to be back…” Rholarowyn turned away taking in the entire scene, the people, the festivities, the music, the trees surrounding the plaza, the stars in their familiar patterns, the aroma of food and fire filling the air. All these scenes she had seen at different time during her three months at the village, but tonight it was different. She was sharing them with a friend, someone who knew her from before, her soul sister, her warrior sister. How she had missed the company of those who she loved and who loved her. It was good to be back… The song changed and suddenly the upbeat rhythm brought Rholarowyn back. “Eari, what ever brought you to this little town?”

[earendil81]

There were so many memories tied to music; she had not really wanted to put them in the open like that, not on the night she found her long lost friend, but it was just as well. The sharing of it with others as they would during a festival of the Bards' Guild was as good a way to reconnect as any other. It was peculiar and yet exhilarating to be able to know what tune the Gondorian would start to play from the soft touch of the bow on the strings. And Rhoe knew from the first pluck of the string what she was going to sing. Years meant nothing then and time seemed to stop in a blessed moment. Yet, it was not that long before their fingers required some rest and they were applauded to their seats before the villagers went on dancing.

She was smiling and laughing as Nayaran approached them asking his mother to play yet another instrument. One that she knew, one that was offered by another friend not seen in a long while. But Rhoe declined playing.
“Ah, children, they think their parents are the best at everything and can do anything perfectly.” There was some sorrow in her voice although she did her best to hide it. Maybe this part of the world was no longer home to her, Nayaran would always remember the East as his home, and learning again would be hard. For both of them. She could understand that.

Rhoe seemed to get lost in thoughts for a moment before turning back to her and asking the question she'd raised before.
“Eari, what ever brought you to this little town?”

"I stop in different places every time I come back from Fornost; it is my first time staying in this village. I wanted a quiet place." She laughed. "Not what I got, but all for the best." She whistled softly with the music that was playing before she answered. "I am going home my friend. To Rohan as it happens. Well, I have to stop in Tharbad as I mentioned earlier, but the faster I can get back, the happier I'll be." Her eyes wandered to where Nayaran had gone searching for Ryomer. "I too have children of my own now, and even though they don't seem to think that I do everything perfectly" she chuckled... "I do miss them. More so every day."

[Rholarowyn]

Rholarowyn smiled, “Quiet times in this town do happen but they are few and far between…I too thought my time here would be calm, but I needed this more…feasts, celebrations, these people truly find joy in the simplicity of life and share in the gratitude of their friendships.”

Appearing from the crowd came a female shadow in a long flowing skirt and a feisty voice. “Would you care for some refreshment?” Her dark hair was tied up in a loose bun and her heavy build included her bust which was about to burst from her blouse. She bent down before them and her hands offered two mugs of the town’s finest ale. “Thank you,” the shieldmaiden answered taking one. Eari took the other and expressed her appreciation for the drink. With her hands now free of mugs the woman stood up tall looming over the two women still sitting on the bench. “I’ve got my eye on that Rohirrim man friend of yours, if you don’t take to him soon and show him some attention I will have to share some of my charm with him. A man like that shouldn’t be left alone on a night like this for too long.” The eager woman stated with a wink. Quickly, Rholarowyn’s eyes scanned the crowd and dance floor. “Sypril, someone else may have beaten you to him, perhaps one of those lovely young ladies he was baking with earlier…or a lovely dancer.”

“NO!” The woman spun around her voice exasperated. “We will see about that!” and with a determined trot she too disappeared into the nearby flow of people.

The smooth aged ale felt good as it slid down the shieldmaiden’s dry throat. “Eari, Rohan, that’s where I am headed to as well, I’ve been sharing tales of The Festival of the Horse with Nayaran for, for along time now…and then there is Bryttar…Elbren told me he is married.”

“And expecting a child any day now,” Eari added. When the sheildmaiden looked up the two women’s eyes locked for a moment. Memories, tales, and shared life experiences passing between them, through the air, until Rholarowyn spoke again, “Wow…a child…and you children…you have children too…and more than one from the sounds of it.”

The crowd applauded as another song ended. “Eari, who would have thought you…me…us…we, we would one day be mothers. Change, the one thing in life you can count on to…I mean…well, anyway, there is so much to catch up on. Please tell me about this man, this lucky man whom you found love with.”

.

[Nayaran]

Politely excusing himself from the small harem of young women who had surrounded him over the last hour or so with dancing, Ryomer slipped off into the shadows and away from the festivities. Soon the tall, wooden structure, silhouetted by the almost full moon loomed in front of him. From inside the sounds of horses settling in for the night could be heard. On the soft evening breeze, the smell of fresh straw, mixed with hay, grain, and well cared for leather wafted over him.

“Son of a….”

‘Whack!’ From somewhere inside not far from the voice, a hoof struck the heavily lumbered wall.

Grabbing a lantern which hung from a rusted hook outside the weathered barn door, Ryomer chuckled as he made his way inside and stopped near a stall on the right and raised the lantern. “You couldn’t wait for me?” He asked amused as his partner, wearing a long dark cloak had one hand pushing on the stall door and was half way out. “I’m Gondorian, I’m not made for shoeing these creatures!” The escaping man emphasized as he passed the shoeing nippers on to Ryomer. Passing the lantern to the Gondorian, Ryomer entered the stall. Slowly he reached out and gently stroked the big, brown gelding who slowly lowered his head and began to chew haphazardly.

“See,” the Rohirrim explained with a mischievous grin, “just like the ladies, you need to know when and where to touch them, THEN you let them decide they like it.”

“I don’t need any lesson on when and where to touch the ladies thank you very much Ryomer. Just finish changing his shoes will you!”

The consistent tapping of nails was the only sound that filled the stalls until the gelding was fully fitted. “I finished Tayla’s shoes earlier today.” The Rohirrim said as he exited the stall and dropped the hammer and clipping pliers into the wood handled box. Taking the lantern back the blonde haired man then turned towards the barn door and began to walk.

“Ryomer!” The sturdy Gondorian started. “Is she here?”

The Rohirrim stopped and turned around, “Yes, I found her earlier this evening…”

“And…” The dark haired Gondorian continued.

“And I helped her make some very good desert bread.”

“Bread!” The Gondorian was perplexed but continued. “OK….but did you talk to her yet…does she know?”

“No,” the Rohirrim turned around and again headed for the door. After returning the lantern to its corroding hook he heard the Gondorian shout out.

“Ryomer, we don’t have time for this.”

The Rohirrim spun around, “I know that! But…look…there are some complications…”

“Complications….just what kind of complications…”

“Ryomer!” came the sound of Nayaran’s voice as he came running towards the two men. The Gondorian stiffened and stepped back once the boy was in better view, though Rholarowyn’s son didn’t notice.

“I wanted to hear more stories of Rohan and here,” Nayaran hands were full of small dance cards, a few notes, and one key clearly labeled. “The ladies said if I found you I was to give you these.”

Ryomer knelt down and politely took the small stack. Slipping them into his pocket he stood up and glanced at the Gondorian who took a challenging step forward. The dark look of revulsion in his eyes could not be missed. Instinctually, the Rohirrim stepped protectively between them and placed both hands upon the larger man’s shoulder and kept direct eye contact.

“Nayaran, please go find your mother and bring her friend too. I need to talk to her…to them.”

The young boy took a couple of hesitant steps backward, “Nayaran, please now!” And with that the boy turned and was gone.

“Leineoril, listen to me!” The Gondorian’s prey-like eyes followed the child into the darkness.

“HEY!” Ryomer yelled. Lienoril’s eyes returned to the present, though the Rohirrim did not drop his arms until he felt the Gondorian’s muscles release.

“She has a son…OK” Ryomer continued to stare directly into Lienoril’s dark brown eyes, “Rholarowyn has a son, an Easterling son.”

The Gondorian stepped back in revolt, his head shaking in denial though his rage was building. “What do you mean a son…no…” He exclaimed and then pointed into the darkness. “You don’t mean that!”

"Yes, Nayaran is Rholarowyn's son, but there is more...Earendil is here too and they have found each other."

"What!?!" Leineoril exclaimed. "Who sent her here?"

.

[earendil81]

“And expecting a child any day now.” It might have been a little unfair not to let Bryttar announce this himself but if Rhoe was met with one shock after the next, her return could become overwhelming... It seemed to be for a moment.

“Wow…a child…and you children…you have children too…and more than one from the sounds of it.”

Indeed, more than one... She who had never thought to have a family; the loss of the one she had had been painful enough. But things changed. Life changed.

“Eari, who would have thought you…me…us…we, we would one day be mothers. Change, the one thing in life you can count on to…I mean…well, anyway, there is so much to catch up on. Please tell me about this man, this lucky man whom you found love with.”

"Who would have thought indeed? But it was one reason I returned to Minas Tirith after you were gone. I left the festival some ten weeks into a pregnancy that I had not planned or expected. I was being my headstrong self and found myself in a place I had not thought I could ever be. It did not settle too well with me."
She sighed; at first she had not wanted to tell him, did not want to put a burden like this on his shoulders. She had not even wanted the burden for herself.

"I tried really hard to escape it Rhoe. I even thought at first that I could leave them behind with someone who would love them better than I ever could." But in Eriador she found that she could not face this on her own and she had traveled to meet him.

"But these little lives growing inside changed me and their father changed me, before and after they arrived. We did care for each other in our own weird ways but with time we realized it was more than that. We did fall in love." She chuckled. "And welcomed twins in our lives."

Nayaran interrupted them calling to his mother... urgently somehow.

[Nayaran]

His legs pumped hard as he sprinted from darkness and entered the merriment of the lantern lit plaza. Darting between the pairs of dancers on the floor, Nayaran suddenly ran smack into the lower body of Joham. "Whoa…little one,” the older man laughed as his wife stepped back regaining her balance. “Just where are you off too in such a…” Joham then bent down, “Nayaran, what’s wrong?”

“At the barn, Ryomer,” the young boy gasped for air, “There’s going to be a fight, or something…” He gasped again as his heart raced. “They want mom, and her elf friend…”

“Why Nayaran! Did they say WHY?”

“To talk…I think.”

“Nayaran, go to the booth, you know what to do, and then go get your mom.”

The young boy nodded and dashed off. Racing to the baking booth, once inside he slid onto his knees, came to a stop, and began digging through the dirty towels and linens heaped in the basket that was tucked under the bottom shelf. Suddenly his hand hit the leather sheath. Within his grasp, Nayaran was once again sprinting out through the crowd.

“Mom…Mom!” His voice was frantic.

Eyeing her belt dagger within her son's grip the shieldmaiden was on her feet. Nayaran thrust the weapon into her open hands and gave a quick explanation.

Rholarowyn knelt down and looked into the dark anxious eyes of her son. “Go find Malmiuta, stay with her, you understand!”

The boy nodded obediently and watched as his mother strapped her belt dagger on and pushed it behind her back, then she and the other woman, the Eari lady, disappeared into the crowd.

He remained still for a few moments and watched the crowd of dancers, and singers, and musicians. There were couples too, getting friendly and close near the darkened areas of the plaza. Everyone seemed oblivious to anything but the festivities around them. Eventually he started searching the crowd looking for the blind women and found her sitting in the large chair that was always reserved for her. It was carved from the trunk of a large tree that had died many years ago. She always reminded Nayaran of a Queen of the Trees when she sat there.

The young boy put on his best brave face, approached the woman, and sat down on a small wooden stump next to Malmiuta.

“There is my friend from the East,” the woman began, “have you come to keep me company?’

“Yes.”

“Good,” she replied noting the angst in his answer. “Please, tell me another story, Nayaran. One of you home land, or perhaps of your father.”

“My father…no one ever wants to hear about my father,” he said softly as he looked up at the wise woman’s face knowing that she could see more without her eyes than most could with them.

“Well, I would very much like to hear about him. Do you have a favorite story?

The dark haired boy remained silent for some time.

“No…I just… sometimes I just miss him.” Nayaran finally answered quietly.

"Well then, I shall share with you a story of my father," the woman began, "and it is one I've never shared with anyone before..."

.

[Rholarowyn]

The two female warriors moved swiftly, first through the dancers, then around to the outside of the party crowd, slipping into a nearby grove of bushy yearling trees. Silently Rholarowyn learned of the weapon Eari carried and stealthy they moved on through the brush. Just as the front of the barn was in sight, light from the almost full moon broke through a cloud. The two froze as they watched the scene unfold.

The larger man in the dark cloak had retrieved his horse from the stall and was now in front of the barn. His rough disposition made it difficult for him to mount as his agitation was causing the brown gelding to circle wildly. With his foot in the stirrup the Gondorian was finally up and threw his leg over. “I don’t care what her story is!” The dark haired man yelled from above looking down and yanked his horses head sideways. “She has dishonored herself…she failed in the East, and now I find out she, she, and those animals,…a son you tell me!!!” The rage in the man’s voice could only be matched by the betrayal he felt burning through his veins.

Ryomer lunged near the gelding’s head and was able to get a hold of the side ring of the bit. In attempt to free his mount from the Rohirrim’s hand, the Gondorian kicked out his left foot aiming towards the arm that held the brown beast in place.

In unison the Rholarowyn and Eari moved, leaping from the shadows. Their sudden figures caused the gelding to bolt left just as the Gondorian’s boot connected squarely to Ryomer’s jaw. Within a second both men were lying upon their backs surrounded by a dust filled cloud erupting from the earth.

The gelding skidded by forcing Rholarowyn to back up as Eari moved forward. A quick assessment and blade in hand, the Mithril Knight moved again, pouncing upon her Gondorian target as he rolled over to his left side and began to sit up. Unexpectedly, he arched back then twisted, his weight was no match for hers and suddenly she was trapped. His large legs pinned her sides down and his hands easily forced her wrists against the hardened soil, though she still clung to her blade. His bold eyes met hers and even in the dim light the Rholarowyn could see his hatred blazing. Even her knee thrust into his back did not detour him.

“DON’T MOVE!” The Gondorian ordered never taking his eyes off of Rholarowyn’s and grabbing her wrists tighter. “YOU are a DISGRACE to the Stewards House.” He pronounced just before spitting to the left of her head.

“LIENORILl!!” Ryomer yelled forcing himself up with one arm as he spat out the fresh blood streaming into his month.

.

[earendil81]

She moved fast; she may no longer train every day with the drive she had in the days before the war but every move was ingrained in her body. She almost saw the horse step towards them before it happens and was out of its way by the time it moved between her and Rhoe. Her friend could not step aside in time and found herself forced to back up.

Eari grabbed the horse's bit fast and strong, yet not enough to frighten the beast more than it already was. As she held it still, she saw at the pommel of the saddled a sheath. Who in their right mind would keep a sword so close to the horse's neck? As afraid as it was now, the gelding could hurt himself with this. It was all so fast and as she unsheathed the sword she saw Rholarowyn meet the man.
She was impressed as her friend obviously remembered perfectly well how to handle a dagger; still her opponent was heavier, and seriously trained from his moves, and soon her friend was pinned down the bulky man above her: a situation no woman would ever accept easily, even less in such circumstances. Yet, whoever he was, the man's attention was wholly concentrated on the woman below him, which allowed Eari to come fast and silently behind him.

"DON'T MOVE," she froze in her tracks just a second, unsure whether the man was talking to her and threatening to hurt Rhoe if she but took one more step. But then, he went on. "YOU are a DISGRACE to the Stewards House.” As he spat her blade moved close to him.

"LIENORIL!" The Rohirrim yelled. Whether it was to alert his friend of her move or to call him back to his senses, she knew not, nor did she care. Still the name rang a bell in her mind; she'd heard it before though she could not quite place it. She let the flat of the blade rest on the man's neck as he froze after Ryomer's call. The Gondorian - he could only be from Gondor with such a name - seemed to snap out of whatever frenzy he was in. But he was not happy to find his own weapon at his neck. He was angry at Rhoe and her... failure? Whatever happened in the East, her going there apparently was not a well kept secret. But that was beside the point.

"Lienoril," she said; there was no mistaking the tone. The man was from Gondor... She knew the name he had to serve the White City before or after the war. "Lienoril, if you are still serving the Citadel, I advise you let this woman go." It might have sounded like a challenge of the man's loyalty, but it was first and foremost an order from a Captain of Minas Tirith to one of its soldiers. Even though she was rarely in the City now, she still carried its word as law. "I would not be happy hurting you with your own weapon, but if I have to, I will, believe it." He shot her a look of pure venom; a movement on the side caught her eyes as the Rohirrim moved.

For a second, it was her turn to be angry. She had missed something if the man from Rohan was involved. She had been fooled by the apparent nonchalance and friendly attitude. He looked honest and if he was not she might have to tell the King in Rohan that he had lost a man; and she would not be looking forward to this. She did not want to interfere in Rohan. The land had its own rule and though the ties between Meduseld and Minas Tirith were strong, she wished not to be the one weakening them. So her voice was cold when she spoke.
"Ryomer of Rohan, for your own sake, do not move. I want to know what is happening here."
It was the Gondorian who answered...
"This is none of..." She tightened the hold on the sword and he gasped slightly.
"Do not even finish this sentence Lienoril. I am here as an envoy of King Elessar in Arnor. Everything that involves citizens of the realm is my business. So again, let Rholarowyn go! Now!"

The man moved gingerly freeing Rholarowyn from his hold. The blade at his neck rendered his movements awkward but soon Rhoe was standing up. Eari looked at her friend and nodded before letting her gaze stop on one man, then the other.
"So which one of you will explain this?"

[Rholarowyn]

“Earendil,” Ryomer began placing his right fist over his heart and followed with a nod, the formal salute of Gondor. “Our mission here is one of protection.” The Rohirrim then shot a glaring look at the Gondorian before he turned and repeated the gesture to the shieldmaiden.

Instinctively she returned it before realizing it wasn’t entirely appropriate.

“Rholarowyn,” Ryomer took in a deep breath and exhaled, “There is no easy way to explain or even tell you everything right now but …”

A ruckus of feet shuffling through the dried leaves along with the knocking of wood and the clanking of metal emerged from the darkness. Leading the way was Joham wielding Rholarowyn’s sword, along with 15 other town’s men of varying ages and various forms of weapons from loaded archery bows to polished blades, carving knives to farming rakes. If the previous moments hadn’t been so intense the scene would have almost been humorous due to their lack of stealth.

“Rholarowyn?” Joham asked slowly while still keeping her sword drawn. “Are these men friend or foe?”

The woman was surprised at the posture and conviction of Joham; hidden beneath that folksy, fat bellied, baker, was a man who had not only authority but some type of weaponry training in his past.

“We’re trying to figure that out.” She finally answered eyeing the Gondorian and then Rohirrim.

“Ryomer…” Joham started “you best explain yourself.” The Rohirrim moved his hand in a motion that only Joham could see. The town leader lowered Rholarowyn’s sword, dropping the blade towards the ground. He then motioned the shieldmaiden to come retrieve it. Meanwhile, Ryomer reached into his tunic, pulled out a folded letter, and handed it to the baker.

Finding the closest source of light to be the lantern hanging on the rustic barn front, Joham moved into the flame light and read silently. Rholarowyn, with her sword in hand moved back to where she was standing before, well away from the Gondorian. Joham then refolded the letter, “and he’s with you?” Joham asked the Rohirrim motioning to the Gondorian who was still being held at knifepoint by Eari.

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Joham continued, “but this is neither the time nor the place. Men…” Joham’s voice addressed the small crowd of protectors who had followed him, “I need Keston, Frasmar, and Chugg to go with us, the rest of you, please return to the festivities, without your weapons, and if anyone asks inform them it was a misunderstanding.”

“Joham,” Ryomer spoke up as the small crowd dispersed. “I need to talk to Rholarowyn, alone.” The baker looked reluctant. “Please,” the Rohirrim continued “it’s of a personal matter, one that is best she hears from me.” The man nodded. “Earendil would you please help escort…”

“Lienoril,” The Gondorian answered carefully.

“Would you please help me and the men escort Lienoril to the Council Chambers?”

"Ryomer," Joham leaned in, "when you are finished, please take her to the baking booth and remain there. I will send Earendil to get you."

.