LOVE! Rohirrim Style

Ring the bells and sing it from the rafters! I'm getting married eventually.

LOVE! Rohirrim Style

Chapter 11

Ring the bells and sing it from the rafters! I’m getting married… eventually.

*** 

“Would someone again, please explain to me what happened in my receiving hall earlier today?”

The ‘light repast’ was skipped. Luggage was taken to assigned rooms, horses had been stabled and rubbed down by their Rohirrim Riders, Éomer and his Marshals were housed within the palace, captains and other members of the éored were given rooms at the nicer inns closer to the palace. While all sat in state for dinner, servants were gadding about, steaming clothing, oohing and aahing over the elaborate Rider cloaks, the different Rohirrim fashions of their women, pointing at the leggings and tunics obviously not meant for the men. Many a young Rohirrim girl was catching looks from the young men of Dol Amroth. The father of the one young woman, who early on was told she would be sent home, ended up growling at several young men who gaped a bit too much.

So now the Royal Family, along with their guests from Gondor and the high éored of Rohan, sat at the long table while course after course was presented. Imrahil sat at the head of the table, flanked by Elessar and Faramir. Éomer and Lothiriel sat at the far end, their heads so close together they looked attached. Many imagined that under the table, their hands and knees ‘met’ many times. They were clueless anyone else was in the room, as it should be.

“It is Rohirrim custom for a Rider to wrap his intended in his cloak,” Arwen explained. “It has been tradition for centuries.”

“So, they are now married?” 

“According to the Rohirrim?” Elessar responded. “Yes.” 

Imrahil scowled. There was more to this than he was being told and he was determined to find out. Rohirrim custom was well and good, however, there were contracts to be signed, bells to be rung and a waiting period to be decided. There was protocol to be followed. He looked up and down the table to see exactly who he could get a straight answer from.

“Lady Aefre.”

Gamling and his wife were seated close to Éomer. It took several requests; eventually a chain of nudges and whispers down the table to get Aefre’s attention. As she looked down the table, Imrahil elbowed Faramir. “Exchange places with her. That way I will not have to yell up and down the table.”

“Would anyone like to see my vanishing table cloth act?” Amrothos called out.

“NO!” came the overwhelming response. 

Eventually, Aefre made her way to the head of the table, questioning glances from her husband. Faramir helped her with her chair and she set her glass down. “My Lord? You wish for witty conversation and banter about the care for Meduseld’s banners and the planting of the kitchen garden?” 

The Prince of Belfalas smiled. “I recall you are a wonderful conversationalist, that you keep your husband on his toes, but mostly that one can get a thorough, if not complete answer from you.” Aefre nodded to Imrahil and Elessar and raised her glass to be refilled with more wine. “I want to know what happened in my receiving hall and the significance of a Rohirrim man wrapping a woman in his cloak.”

All eyes were on Aefre and the table grew quiet. “My Lord, the Rohirrim are a simple people. Yes, we have settlements and homesteads, farms and such. But many of our people were nomadic and have been for many generations; hundreds of years. They followed the herds, moved cattle from spot to spot so as to not over tax the soil. There were times holy men or women or even leaders of high importance were not nearby to complete certain rituals; marriages, funerals.”