It seemed to Galieth that there had never been so fair a sunrise in all the mornings of Middle-Earth. She stood alone upon the path, a basket of ribbons hung over one arm and clean stockings draped across the other. All thoughts of the many errands before her seemed to melt away with the morning dew as golden sunlight illuminated the woods of Ithilien, turning the first new leaves as green as garnets and casting stately birch trunks into rosy silhouette. Birds chirped and trilled everywhere, their sweet little voices echoing overhead. There was a brightness to the woodlands in this part of the world that was not to be found in the primordial, stone-strewn pine forests of the north. Galieth reveled in the beauty of the moment. Tipping her face back to the tree tops, she breathed deeply of the scent of new life.
The picturesque stillness was not to last though. A burst of playful shrieking and shouting from behind her on the path brought Galieth spinning about, and a good thing too. No sooner had she turned to the side when a gaggle of children sprinted around her like minnows in a current.
"Come back here, little goblins!" A woman appeared by the gate of a nearby cottage, three pairs of neatly polished children's shoes brandished in her outstretched hands. "If you dirty yourselves before the wedding, I'll see you all sleeping with the pigs tonight!"
The children paid her no mind though, racing off into the trees in what was surely their best clothing. Galieth shrugged helplessly at the poor mother's harassed expression. She could only sympathize though; she was already overdue at Elfstone Hall.
Elfstone Hall - named in reference to a jewel once gifted to the king by an elvish sorceress - was less a hall and more an over-sized cottage, used as a second home by the royal family whenever they came to stay in Ithilien. Set opposite Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn's home at the end of the main road through town, Elfstone Hall was charmingly built from rounded white stones with a red-shingled roof and door, in echo of the blue door which kept watch over Faramir and Éowyn's front stoop. A comfortable curl of smoke rose from both chimneys, but it was toward the royal household that Galieth set her course.
She was halfway through the garden gate when a sudden whoop nearly startled the basket of ribbons straight from her grasp. The front door flew open with a bang, and out of Elfstone Hall came half-running, half-tumbling none other than the King of Rohan himself.
Galieth had only had occasion to meet Elfwine once before, last autumn at the annual Harvest Tournament. Then he had been charming and chivalrous, as fair of face and fit of form as the young noblewomen of Gondor were always saying. Now though, Elfwine was nearly stumbling from laughter as he dashed down the front walk. His honey-brown hair was thoroughly ruffled about the collar of his wine red doublet, and wrapped about one wrist a delicate band of lace and blue silk dangled haphazardly.
"Protect me, Lady Galieth! I beg you!" Elfwine cried out, leaping behind her and ducking defensively. Galieth let out a squawk of surprise and indignation in equal measure, nearly staggering when Elfwine grabbed her shoulders to plant her more directly between himself and Elfstone Hall.
"Protect you?! From what, my lord?!"
"ELFWINE!! You return that garter this instant, or all the horselords of the Riddermark won't be able to save you!"
The answer came storming out the front door in the form of Almárëa, rosy cheeks flushed with (mock?) fury and blue eyes thunderous. All of five-foot-four-inches Almárëa might have been, but now Galieth understood perfectly Elfwine's terror.
Galieth had been with the household of Telcontar for nearly ten months now, and if she had to pick a word to describe the youngest princess, if would be capricious. One moment as sweet and innocent as any May-child, the next regally imperious, Almárëa seemed to be able to bend anyone and everything to her will without a second thought. And best...or perhaps worst of all, everyone adored her regardless. Even Galieth - at Eruthiawen's age nearly ten years Almárëa's senior - still found herself utterly unable to resist the younger girl's tempestuous nature.
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Seeds of the White Tree
FanfictionA story of the Fourth Age of Middle-Earth, told primarily from Prince Eldarion (Aragorn and Arwen's son) of Gondor's perspective. Sauron is defeated and the West is at peace, but there are still ghosts to face, and stories to be told. Featuring A...
