[Nerindel]

The room was well lit and the small fire in the hearth gave a subtle warmth to the room, it was not as stately a room as she had imagined but more inviting than some. To one end of the room was a large desk with several lacquered boxes neatly arranged upon it. To the other end was a round table littered with what she thought must be maps and charts, then to the centre was the hearth. By which sat several high backed comfortable looking green fabric covered chairs each with it’s own rearing white horse embroidered into the fabric. Above the hearth over a dark wood mantel two spears crossed and between them glimmering against the fire light sat the kings crest. As well as this decoration several portraits adorned the oak panelled walls, past kings of Rohan no doubt, but one portrait stood out an oddity among the wise old faces. It was of a woman in a rich green riding dress upon a white mare adorned with both sword and shield. Æðelhild could not help but stare in awe as she recognised the figure of Lady Eowyn. The princess and the witch king had been a particular favourite tale of hers growing up and as a child she had always fancied herself becoming a shield maiden like the lady Eowyn, it had been why she had pestered her grandfather into letting her watch his students train, even when her father had insisted it was not the done thing for a lady of Gondor. But that was a long time ago and another lifetime, a childish fantasy best forgotten.

“An Extraordinary likeness , do you not think?” The subtle rich tones of the kings voice shook her from her reverie.

“Eh, why I would not know, your Majesty. I..I have never had the good fortune to see her ladyship close up.” she stumbled over her words realising that she had been gawking like a wide eyed, awe struck child. Blushing profusely she dropped into her best curtsy, her eyes cast down to the floor. If the king had seen her embarrassment he took no notice of it as he crossed to one of the high backed chairs beside the fire.

“Come, sit.” he issued, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

She looked up, startled and confused by kings break in proprietary. In these halls she should have been regarded as little more than a servant, but to be asked to sit by the king! Surely even here that was a strange thing, but feeling the weight of not one but five pairs of eyes on her she was quick to obey. Master Hrethel, the corners of his eyes creased with what looked like sympathy stood to the kings left , attempting to smile encouragingly as she sat. While to the kings right the tall and straight form of Captain Hama stood watching her as a hawk would its prey, with a glint of distrust and suspicion in his eyes, that made her want to squirm, but that look was not for her alone for it also took in the two men that stood near her chair by the fire. Two men that at first glance seemed little different from any other Rohirrim man at arms, only that their scabbards were empty and their dirty blonde hair did not seem right on their dark weather worn features and the younger of the pair even seemed uncomfortable in the stiff woollens and leathers he wore, but catching her eye he smiled and she could swear there was a light of excitement in his grey eyes as he turned to his companion, who dipped his head courteously to her. The gesture almost froze her for there was no mistaking the recognition in those dark hard eyes. She quickly turned away, ready to enquire as meekly as she could as to why she had been summoned, though she was now all but sure she knew the answer. But as she turn, it was to the King studying her so thoughtfully that the words where lost on her tongue.


There was a long moment of silence before the King spoke. “It would seem Miss Æðel that you are a puzzle that must be solved, you see my Captain here has been quite uneasy about allowing someone, a foreigner you might say reside within my halls without proper recommendation.”

“But your Majesty, Lord Eodwine.” She protested weakly looking uneasily between the king and his captain, she would have also taken in Hrethel if not for the guilt in her heart that she thought her eyes would betray.

“I Believe that Lord Eodwine knows even less than we do.” Captain Hama answered evenly, with no hint of accusation in his voice, though his eyes narrowed slightly toward the two men by the fire, but if they noticed they did not show it, only continuing their careful scrutiny of her. Almost as if they where curious as to what she would do next, but with a readiness that reminded her of the silent shadows, The name given to her late fathers patrol. Six men who it was said that along with Lord Faramir where the only survivors of the hidden refuge of Henneth Annun, after the madness of Lord Denethor had forced their lord and captain to take them into Osgiliath a mistake that had come at a heavy price and a place that her father would never speak of despite Lord Faramir’s promises to cleanse the ancient city and again reopen her gates.

“It would seem so.” The king nodded agreeing with his captains assessment, “but we will get to that in due course, but first to continue,” the king went on. “To so elevate my captains concerns I had Hrethel here, Write to the healers in Gondor that it was said you had once studied under.” Æðel looked up at the old man at the king gestured and even through her own guilt she could not help but feel a little hurt by his deception, but seeing that same hurt look reflected back at her she looked away ashamed, ashamed of what she had kept from him and listened as the king went on to inform her of the glowing praise and recommendations the Hall had given her and of their disappointment that she had not chosen to remain with them, but their relief that she was safe.

“I don’t understand?” she said confused looking between the king and the two men to her right, who she had now convinced herself that despite their clothing and hair in the Rohirrim fashion where knights of Gondor sent to bring her back. Why had the healers not said anything and why was she here if they had spoken so highly of her?

As if reading her thoughts the older of the two men spoke, “His Majesty King Eomer was not the only one to receive word of Miss Æðel or should I say Lady Æðelhild of Arnen from the halls.” At the declaration of her full name and title the colour drained from Æðel’s face, her muscles tensed and panic flooded through her, wave after wave like a turbulent sea and before she even realised what she was doing she was on her knees begging, no pleading for Mercy and Safe haven to the King of Rohan. Retelling as best she could through tears and broken sobs her tale and how it came that she found herself here in Rohan.