EDORAS, ROHAN - Midsummer Day, June T.A. 3011
"When word of your arrival reached Edoras, I wanted to be here to meet you first. Glæd Midsumor, Mearhe!" the old man said, holding the rains of her horse to keep it steady. Mearhe smiled and dismounted, landing in front of him.
"Glæd Midsumor! How dearly I have missed you, father. But what brings you to Edoras? " Éodain gently patted her shoulder and kissed her forehead. "I came about this way to deliver two new horses to the King."
Their eyes met briefly. "How is my grandson?" Éodain asked. Mearhe gave a nod and smiled. "Strong and vocal in his demands," she laughed, "Growing up fast." Her words were enough to still Éodain 's questions. "Soon he'll be ready to hold his first sword and sit on his first saddle. I already chose this season’s best foal for him."
A smile lit Mearhe's face as her father put an arm around her shoulder in a protective gesture. "How was your ride from Aldburg?" Mearhe and Éodain began to walk together away from the stables. "It was good and uneventful," she replied. "But I have news from the East Wall."
Éodain wished not to trouble her with matters of the Mark, not right now - to burden a heart so greatly troubled already. "Well. That’s for later..." he smiled and pointed to the Golden Hall standing proud on top of the rocky hill. "Glad you are here! Come now, the King is celebrating Midsummer with a great feast."
Side by side they climbed the steep path and reached the top of the hill. It was a clear and calm summer night in the Riddermark. Great roaring Bonfires were burning around the city and the surrounding fields. Mearhe could hear songs and laughter, as people gathered around to dance and celebrate the longest day. Midsummer was the high point of the year in Rohan, the time when deeds are brightest and the heart is most daring.
The people of Edoras were busy celebrating in the early evening light of a clear Midsummer, a stream ran down the sloping path - its fresh waters swift and churning as the hill wound further up. Mearhe's gaze turned to the high platform above. The stairs broadened onto a great terrace, and on the very top stood guards. They were tall and proud, holding green shields in one hand, and drawn swords in the other. The guards moved not, appearing statue-like if not for deep and watchful eyes that met Mearhe's gaze.
Behind them was the great hall, Meduseld, home of Rohan's king and court. Its roof glowed golden in the pale light.
When Éodain and Mearhe climbed the long stair, the guards turned towards them at the same time, blocking the path with their swords. Silently they waited until Éodain came before them. A single guard stepped forward. "Hail, Éodain son of Éowold. You are expected in the Hall of the King." A swift breeze blew warm from the lofty peaks of the White Mountains, tall and dark shadows looming against the evening sky dotted with stars.
The guards moved aside, and the two carved doors, groaning on great hinges, were swung open to reveal the King's hall. Long and broad it was, lit by a clear-burning fire upon the hearth with billowing smoke hanging in the air. Voices and music echoed between pillars richly carved and decorated with woven tapestries. Mearhe saw men and women in beautiful clothes, eating and drinking, and then looked down at her mud-covered boots and cape. Éodain noticed her expression. "I arranged for you to stay with me in the guests quarters." He whispered to her," But come now, there is something we must do first."
At the end of the Hall, on a platform in front of the top table, upon a great gilded chair, sat a man. He looked familiar, as if all the men of Rohan lived in him. He was tall and broad, with long silver hair and beard styled in intricate braids. Piercing blue eyes, clear as the immense sky about his land.He was cladded in green and gold and silver.
Mearhe hesitated for a moment, but there was reassurance in Éodain's grip on her arm, and they went forward, past the fire until they came to stand before the platform. "Hail, Théoden son of Thengel!" Éodain called in a clear voice and bowed deep. "King of the Mark!"
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