Daughter Of Rohan

Author’s Note: I’m sorry for the huge delay, I’ve had some horrible
writer’s block, and lots of “life” happening. This chapter isn’t quite as long
as I had hoped for, but I’m still fighting the WB and my muse is off
gallivanting in the future portions of this story.

 

 

Chapter Two - The Story Continues

By Kalythiana

 

Beta: TigerLily (you rock girl, thanks for making me
look so good)

 

Lótessë
(Mayish) 3rd, Spring of 2989 T.A.

 

Éllawyn gazed towards home as they rode
towards the mountains. Now that home was within view the horses had picked up
the pace slightly, knowing warm mash and a good rub down awaited them there.
Éllawyn glanced over her shoulder, and watched the black mare for a while
before returning her attention to home. The blood in Éllawyn’s veins pounded as
the group broke into a canter. She felt like laughing and singing for joy. This
was paradise. One of the soldiers started singing, his voice breaking through
the thundering of hooves. Soon other voices joined his, joyous in the sight of
home. Éllawyn was smiling so much she thought her face would split. Soon she
too had joined the song, singing in harmony with Ellédor who rode beside her.

 

Home
is where, I breathe this wind

Home
is where, I’ve laid my kin

Home
is where, the horses run

My
home is here, as is my love

 

As they approached the gate, they slowed
the horses bringing them in at a walk. Éllawyn saw her mother and father
waiting for them by the stables. Ellédor and Éllawyn both noticed their mothers
look of alarm as she looked over the black mare who had started shaking in
fear.

“Ellédor how was the trip?” Érod asked with
a grin as he slapped his son on the shoulder, before clasping his forearm in a
warriors embrace. Éllawyn didn’t hear his answer as her mother gave her a hug
and a quick kiss.

“I missed you darling.” Ivriniel whispered
with a small smile.

 

*              *              *

 

“She can not keep that filly Érod; you know
that, she’s too wild!” Éllawyn could hear her mother’s voice through the wooden
door.

“I see no harm in it dear, she won’t be
training it right away, if ever. As long as she acts responsibly around the
filly, I believe she will be fine. Éllawyn has a good head on her shoulders.
She is your daughter after all.” Érod finished with a chuckle.

“She may be my daughter Érod, but she is
yours as well. Rohirrim will do anything for horses… how did your uncle die,
Érod? It may have been an accident, but it could have been prevented if he had
stayed away from that horse!”

At that moment Éllawyn heard footsteps
coming down the hall, she scurried back to her room and carefully shut her
door. She leaned against it as she thought of what she had heard, sighing she
made her way to her bed and climbed in. She didn’t want to make her mother
angry or worried, but she had had this feeling when she saw the filly. As if
she knew she was suppose to keep her.

 

*              *              *

 

Ivriniel stormed out of Érod and hers chambers, with him hot on her
heels.

“Ivriniel, I…” Érod trailed off as Ivriniel spun around, tears trailing
down her face.

“Érod, I need some time alone.” Her voice quivered slightly, “please?”
Érod nodded, with a sigh he watched his wife walk briskly down the hallway.

 

*              *              *

 

                It wasn’t long before Ivriniel
was standing outside looking out over the plains. The wind was warm on her
face, even if it was a gusting about quite furiously. The moon shone brightly,
making the grass look like waves. For the first time in many years, Ivriniel
felt a little homesick. By coming to Rohan, she had gained some freedom, as opposed
to her sister who had married into more duties and a more confining life.
Ivriniel was sure that was what had weakened her sister so much that a trifling
cold killed her. Here in Rohan she had what she had always wanted, a husband
who loved her for who she was, a family to care for, and the freedom to be who
she was without having to worry about what the “court” thought of it. She knew
that horses meant everything to the people of this country. She had been here
long enough to feel the pain she knew everyone else was feeling watching the
black filly tremble in fear. She closed her eyes as the wind whipped around
her, pulling her troubles away with it. Érod was right, to an extent, if the
filly really wasn’t dangerous, then
there was no harm in Éllawyn working with her. With a determined smile on her
face, she turned back into the house.

 

*              *              *

 

The sun was just about to rise, and Folwyn had not yet been to her room
to start the morning fire. Éllawyn climbed out of her warm bed and onto the
chilly stone floor. She hopped on one foot then the other as she hastily
dressed. Pulling on an old cloak, she headed to the stables. As she walked
through the village, she could see the beginning of stirrings in the houses.
Smoke was starting to rise from the odd house, chickens were clucking for the
grain, and a few early raisers like herself were scurrying through the street.
As she walked into the stables, she breathed in the aroma of a busy, well used
stable. The sweet smell of horse and hay, combined with leather and sweat.
Éllawyn grabbed a handful of grain from the feed room and went straight to see
her pony Snowflame. His grey nose peeked over the stall door as she walked up.

“Hey handsome” she cooed as she entered his stall. “I won’t be riding
you that much anymore, but I’ll still come by to visit you.” He contemplated
her words as he devoured his grain. Éllawyn gave him a kiss and slipped out of
the stall. “I have to see my new charge Snowflame, be a good boy today.” With a
pat, she headed to where they had put the new fillies.

 

*              *              *

 

The grey filly looked curiously at Éllawyn as she entered the stall.

“Hey there little lass, are you settling in alright? How about some
grain” the filly sniffed it inquisitively, before nibbling delicately at it.
Éllawyn giggled as she watched the filly turn from curious to definitely
interested in what she had in her hand. “It’s good isn’t. You really need a
name little lass.” Éllawyn wondered aloud.

“What about Mithroeth.” Ivriniel said from the stall door. “It
means ‘Grey Mare’ in Sindarin.”

“Mithroeth, I like it.” Éllawyn rolled the name off her tongue. “What
is Sindarin Mother?” Ivriniel smiled gently as handed Éllawyn a brush and
together started grooming the quiet mare.

“Sindarin is the language of the elves.”

“But elves are only a legend, a myth, how can they have a language?”
Éllawyn asked

“That’s what the Rohirrim say, but in my homeland we know better. The
elves are as real as you and me. They are immortal, that much of the tales are
true.” Éllawyn’s eyes widened. “In Gondor some still speak the language quite
fluently. My family spoke it often at home, as does your Uncle Denethor’s. The
peasants and servants do not usually know it. Maybe that’s why the high
families started using it.” Ivriniel mused. “But it is a beautiful language.”

“Say something Mother!” Éllawyn asked with breathless excitement.
Ivriniel laughed then spoke, the words flowing off her tongue in a flowery and
haunting song.

“I shall have to start teaching it to you sometime.” She kissed Éllawyn
forehead and then with a impish smile tweaked her nose before letting herself
out of the stall. “I have to make sure that the noon meal is started soon, and I have some
dresses that need mending. I’ll see you at the noon meal my daughter.”

Éllawyn nodded as she finished combing out Mithroeth’s silky tail.

“Oh and Éllawyn”

“Yes, Mama?

“You may work with the black filly, as long as you promise to take it
slow.”

Éllawyn squealed softly as she threw her arms around her mother’s
waist. “Thank you Mama, thank you so much.”

 

*              *              *

 

Ivriniel quickly sorted through her old truck from when she was a
child, she was sure she had some of her old elvish books in here somewhere.
Nearing the bottom of the chest, she found a group of them wrapped in an old
shawl. With a triumphant cry she pulled them out and set them on her bed,
before packing the rest of the contents of the chest, back where they belonged.
She should have given these books long ago to Éllawyn.

“Milady?” a voice asked from the door. Ivriniel looked up as she shut
the chest lid.

“Ah, Mistress Farawyn.” She said as she noticed the herb mistress
standing in her doorway.

“I did not mean to interrupt milady.”

“No interruptions, I just finished.” Ivriniel said with a welcoming
smile. “What can I help you with?”

“We’ve run out of Comfrey leaves milady, I could send out my
apprentice, but she has not gathered them before and I fear she would not be
able to find any this time of year.” Farawyn said with a mischievous smile.
When Ivriniel first arrived in Rohan, Érod had barely let her out of his sight,
for fear she would get hurt someway or another. Farawyn had become her rescuer,
asking for her help gathering herbs needed for the sick and injured or asking
for her to come and discuss the different healing properties of different
herbs, as Farawyn was ‘always interested in how they healed in the south’.

Ivriniel chuckled. Farawyn had gotten quite good at reading her moods
and knew when she needed to take a breather. “I would be honoured to gather
some for you, Mistress. I believe the fresh air would do me good.” They both
grinned madly at one another for a moment, both trying to control their mirth.

“Shall I send to the stables to have them prepare a horse and escort
for you milady?” Farawyn asked, as she chuckled.

“That would be wonderful Mistress” Ivriniel replied, and then as an
afterthought added with a grin “Maybe you should look into finding yourself a
new apprentice, this one doesn’t seem to be learning anything.”

 

*              *              *

 

Not long after a much more composed Ivriniel made her way to the
stables dressed in an old dress especially tailored for riding astride,
something she had started doing since she moved to Rohan. However, on the rare
occasion she still rode sidesaddle. She nodded politely to her escort as she
swung herself into the saddle without any assistance. She headed out at a trot,
with the three soldiers following closely behind.

 

It wasn’t long before they reached a small stream running near the base
of the mountain, while one of the guards stayed with the horses, the other two
followed her a few feet behind, to give her some space. Ivriniel systematically
searched the bank of the river for the herb she was looking for. With a sigh,
she started trudging up a hill, away from the horses. As she crested the hill, a
look of horror passed over her face. As she spun around an arrow flew and hit
her shoulder with a thud, one of the guards sprinted forwards and pulled her
behind him, while the other whistled in warning to the guard who had stayed
with the horses. As the two guards kept themselves between Ivriniel and the
danger, the third rode up with the horses. Just then five Dunlandings charged
over the hill, one went down immediately with a spear lodged deep in his chest.
Ivriniel was passed up to the mounted Rider and the two on the ground quickly
dealt out deathblows to the Dunlandings, but more swarmed over the hill. Swords
clashed, and arrows whistled, the mounted rider urged his horse into a gallop
as his companions swung on their horses and followed. They had to get their
Lady to safety; they could deal with Dunlandings later.