Daylight strengthens in the skies over Edoras, although far-sighted eyes can see a darkening wall of gloom beginning to climb over the edge of the world from the East. The people of the city are shaking off the dreadful passage of the Flying Terror that swooped over Meduseld, before winging its way west and north towards Isengard. Once it passes out of sight, the Rohirrim set to their labors of bringing their folk out of the path of peril and into the safety of the mountain fastness of Dunharrow.
It is to this labor that Seregrían and the Riders Four lend their aid, lending strength to a heavy load, encouraging word to the fearful, or bringing tidings of the Eastemnet to those who would plan the Rohirrim’s next move. In these things their names and renown go before them, glad smiles and welcomes meet them with each hour; and none more than the wonder of seeing the Lady Blodcwyn, for speaking to one of the Elves in this desperate hour brings hope that they are not alone in the fight against the Shadow.
Seregrían moves about the streets and ways of Edoras, hailed by many, stared at in wonder by even more. She is by now not only used to the attention and greetings paid to her but uses it wisely to raise hopes and encourage these people she has come to know. As she discovered herself, the folk of Rohan are part of this land as much as the stones and waters and trees, and not only have they fought valiantly in its defense, but now they begin to rally their widely scattered people and muster a great host to confront the Shadow.
As Seregrían gazes into the gathering daylight and takes in the spectacular sight of the Golden Hall high above, she cannot help but feel admiration and a growing affection for these people – and realizes for the first time, she has not thought of them as Mortals. She thinks of Cillan, and of the Riders Four, and her thoughts turn to Caeorwulf who is somewhere far to the north; and she wishes him well.
Seregrían’s reverie is interrupted by another voice who calls to her – but in the most unexpected turn, she hears a woman’s voice: Ai Seregrían, edennil i vellon Rohan! Na medui im suilann maedol i Edoras! (Hail Blood-queen, friend of Men and of Rohan! At last I give you welcome to Edoras!) She turns and stares in amazement at the woman who speaks to her in accented but familiar Sindarin. She is tall, golden hair framing a fair face, clad in the green-hued hauberk and cloak of the Rohirrim, outfitted in gear of war, smiling broadly in greeting.
Seregrían cannot believe her ears. Pol sen na naed!? Pedil lam nin? Man eneth lin? (Can this be true!? You are speaking my tongue? What are you called?)
She replies first in Elvish then in the common tongue, Im Elfidis i Edoras, lam lin Edheldess (Call me Elfidis of Edoras, in your tongue Elf-woman). “I long ago learned the Elven-tongue as a matter of familiar use.”
“Familiar, here in Rohan? How is that possible? Of all this land I have seen, there has ever been distrust and doubt towards my kin. And of all the wonders I have known, this stands high among them. Tell me how this can be!” Elfidis smiles and leads Seregrían to the center market where food and drink might be found, and over steaming mugs of hot barley soup, she begins her story.
Elfidis is a lady of the court of Meduseld but was originally a handmaiden to the house of Eorl, first to the lady Theodwyn, the sister of Theoden King. After Theodwyn and her husband Éomund perished within a year of each other, their children Éomer and Éowyn were taken in by their uncle; and Elfidis became handmaiden to their grandmother, the Queen Mother Morwen of Lossarnach. The family had been raised in Gondor for a time, and both the Common Tongue and the Elven-tongue were taught and spoken in their household. When they returned to Rohan with Thengel their father, their customs of speech were still in daily use, much to the displeasure of the court.
All that changed in recent years, with the rise of Grima Wormtongue to the king’s council. All who spoke any tongue save that of Rohan was declared a spy and banished from Edoras, if not the lands of Rohan as well. Elfidis herself fell under that ban and fled to Aldburg, until Theoden was released by Gandalf the White; she had only returned to Edoras just two days before, to find Theoden and Eomer gone to war, and Éowyn as steward charged with leading the people to Dunharrow in the mountains.
“It is well that you and the Riders did not arrive until after such events unfolded,” Elfidis explains. “Had Grima still held sway over Theoden King, it is likely you would have been barred from entering the city – to say nothing of being taken as a spy and cast into prison or worse, such was Grima’s power over men.”
“Events are moving as they should, perhaps,” Seregrían says thoughtfully. “Or perhaps faster than they may. I see you, Elfidis, armed and clad for war. In my travels across your lands, I note that there are women who also take up arms for their people, they are – what was the word – Shield-maidens? Are you even such?”
“Only by need, not by choice. As soon as she assumed the mantle of steward of Edoras, Éowyn bade all women with any skill with a blade should arm and be ready to stand in the last defense, should fortune turn against us. And that includes me, among others. There are perhaps three score shield-maidens who hold themselves in readiness at the lady Éowyn’s call.”
“And I sense that you would not do such duty, had you the choice?”
“I wondered if you might understand. I am not maethoriel, a warrior like you –“
“And I am? Neither am I maethoriel, but istriel, a scholar and lore-mistress. If I carry aught into battle, it is the lore of weapons that few might wield with wisdom.”
“The tales that come ahead of you speak of dwimorcraft that none but a Wizard might wield. Fires and light, and even the power to stand against the flying terrors. Seregrían, others listen to you, they know what you can do. Have they asked you to join the Rohirrim in battle? Or is your path taking you abroad once more? I would ask you to stay, if not here in Edoras, then ride to war with Theoden and the Eorlingas, I beg you!”
“Truly, I cannot say where my next course will take me. I and the Riders Four intended to come to Edoras to bring tidings of the eastern lands, for war has been marching over the Wold and the crofts for weeks. Now those tidings are overcome by the swift tide of events. All I can say to you, Elfidis of Rohan, is that my road lies to the east – and I believe that as I go, so does Rohan, and Gondor, and all free peoples. You, I, and countless others are now part of a mighty history about to be written; but the moving finger that writes has not written all yet.”
“Your words do not comfort, but that does not make them less true. And what I say to you, Seregrían of the Elves, is whatever road you take, I deem that renown and peril will follow you hand in glove. I am pleased that chance brought us together, even for an hour, for now I see and hear all that I knew of your kin is true, your beauty and your wisdom together. If I remember this rightly – may Elbereth watch over you.”
Seregrían smiles at Elfidis’ warmth and welcome, and at the words that show respect for her kin. And if she learned these things from Gondor, then perhaps the lands of Men have not wholly forgotten the Elves – and unlikely as it may seem, there may yet be Elf-friends in the world.
