They did as Bandobras had promised arrive at Edoras by sunset.  The wind picked up as the evening wound down and blew the clouds away; the sun westering in the roiling sky gleamed red-orange like a hot fire, settled upon her foamy blue coal-bed; the cedars flanking the meandering stream beside the road reached up to brush at the sky like great inverted brooms, sweeping at the clouds and casting them all aside.  The willow branches swung and waved, thick and green, over the winding watercourse, and the dark water chuckled and splashed, swollen to the tops of its banks by the summer flow.

They passed through the hedge and over the dyke and so on to the city.  There were soldiers at the gates, clad in bright mail and armed with sword and spear; several carts trundled in and out, filled with the bounty of the fields, and the common folk looked with surprise at the Elves in the midst of the éored.  Arúlf led them to the guard house, and a man in a green tunic came out and stared at them.

"What is this, Arúlf?" he asked in his own tongue; Fastred had need to think hard to catch the words, for he was unused to his mother's language.

"This is Éomer King's friend and ally the Green Knight," replied Arúlf; "with him he brings our new prince."

"Ah!"  The porter turned to Fastred and bowed low.  "Westu Fastred hál!" And turning to Legolas he said: "Welcome, O Green Knight!  We thank you for your kindness in bringing our heir safely to the gates of our city."  He turned to a boy sitting by the guard house and said:  "Hirdáf!  Run through the streets of Edoras; cry abroad the news that our heir is come to Éomer King."  The boy after a keen glance at Fastred nodded and ran out; they could hear him calling:  "The heir of Meduseld is here!  Come, all you people; come out to greet Fastred Prince of the Mark!"  And the porter waved them through the gates.

As they rode up the rocky track to the top of the hill they passed many stout wooden houses, with windows lit by lamp and fire; people came out of them to watch as they went by.  Fastred had never noticed the common folk of Edoras before, and found himself surprised to see them much the same as those of Ithilien and Osgiliath; the housewives wore homespun and aprons, and stood upon their doorsteps wiping work-hardened hands upon dishcloths; the children shouted and ran on their dirty bare feet beside the horses, and the menfolk stood about in heavy tunics, some with farm implements, others with weapons, some with their steeds, standing proudly by as they passed.  The Elves were hailed as benefactors and given high praise, for the people knew Lord Legolas to be a friend of their king, and remembered well his generosity during want in the past; Fastred however was stared at, and people spoke behind their hands as he rode by, looking sidelong at him.  He knew his face was scarlet, but he held his head high, hoping they were speaking of him and not of Karakse or Himbaláth.  The thought that his new subjects would think poorly of his choice of steed or standard-bearer sat ill upon his heart, and he desired to prove their opinions mattered little to him.

It had been some years ere Fastred had sojourned in Rohan, and he could hardly remember the road from the gates to Meduseld; it seemed though to be taking much longer than his memory served, and it was with great relief Fastred saw the gold-thatched roof of his uncle's home.  "My mother-brother's," he corrected himself once more; he would have to be careful now to speak as the Rohirrim did, so he would not stand out overmuch.  "I stand out enough, even with the difference in tongue and expression," he thought ruefully, looking at a couple of boys his own age pass by; they were tall and fair, with blue eyes, and looked very self-assured.  Fastred wondered if he would make any friends like unto Halgond, and wished he could have brought the boy with him.  "But Halgond would cause trouble here," he thought, smothering a smile; "he would insult the Rohirrim boys, and tease them, and make fun of their horses and their city; perhaps it is as well he is home."  He imagined what it was like in Osgiliath just then, and thought longingly of the cool blue shadows upon the white walls, the warm glow of the setting sun upon the rough stone, and the wide belt of silver as the river flowed round his city, cloven in two by the high white crown of the jewel of Ithilien, and of the tall campaniles ringing the evening hour, graceful white spikes circled about by wheeling swallows, rocking with the swing of the bells.  He thought of what his family were doing, of his Lord Father and Lady Mother sitting to table with Hísimë and Théodred, perhaps eating a haunch of venison taken by his father's own bow; he thought of Hísimë genteelly cutting her meat, back straight, chin high, lifting it to her mouth with her fork held properly, and of Théodred, growing tired of sawing at the cut with his knife and simply picking it up in his fingers to bite at it.  And he thought of how his parents would look at each other, secret sidelong glances and warm smiles, and perhaps his Lord Father would reach for his Lady Mother's hand beneath the table.  He felt a terrible pang in his breast then, and his eyes stung; he blinked rapidly, not wanting to show any weakness before those proud boys who stared at him so.

They gained the entrance of the Golden Hall, and dismounted; as they did a boy perhaps two or three years Fastred's elder ran up to where Hirilcúllas and Andunië rode together.  The two Elven women had garnered a goodly bit of attention from their escorts and were obviously much admired; Andunië had as always ignored the men about her, but Hirilcúllas had been quite friendly, smiling and laughing with the men as they strove to speak with her.  So Andunië was quite obviously not prepared for the boy's offering; he had somehow found a clump of late violets, and as she dismounted presented them to her stammering and blushing; it was the first time Fastred had ever seen Andunië look nonplussed, and he was so pleased by her perplexity he did not notice Meivel's black glare.

Standing upon the portico flanked by a full guard was Éomer, King of Rohan.  Tall he was, broad-shouldered, proud and stalwart and straight.  He held before him the great sword of the Kings of the Mark, that his own uncle had borne; it was bejeweled and ancient, point-down upon the pavers, and he leant upon its huge hilt; the pommel just reached his chin.  Beside him, the crown of his head no higher than the king's gold belt, stood a beaming Dwarf, richly dressed in red and gold, with a thick gold chain around his neck, and a gleaming circlet about his brow.  Legolas descrying him gave a glad laugh, and as he ascended the steps to the portico the king stepped forward, smiling.

"Welcome, my friend!" he said, extending his hand to the Elf.  "The King of the Golden Hall welcomes his ally and counselor, the Lord of Dol Galenehtar.  Westu Legolas hál!"

"Westu Éomer hál!" Legolas replied, and the two embraced.  Then Legolas turned to the Dwarf and said in a merry voice:  "Gimli, Lord of Aglarond, Elf-friend and staunch ally!"

"Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen, and Green Knight yet, despite your dearth of armor," grinned the Dwarf, letting the Elf embrace him.  "And hello to you too, Bandobras Took!  Not causing any trouble are you?"

"Not any more so than usual," piped Bandobras cheerfully, throwing his arms about the Dwarf's neck.  "But I'm sure if I think hard enough I'll come up with something."

"I am certain you shall," grunted Gimli.  He surveyed the rest of the Elves as they ascended.  "Ho, Meivel!" he said with surprise, looking the captain up and down.  "What have you done to yourself?  Not fallen off your horse I hope!"

Several Elves laughed, but Meivel looked annoyed.  "No, Lord Gimli," he said shortly.

Éomer had laughed with the rest; he knew Meivel of old.  "Welcome all of you," he said to the Elves as they assembled before the doors.  Then he turned to Fastred, who had been hoping to slip in unnoticed.  His eyes lit up then, and his smile illuminated the dark porch.  "Westu Fastred hál! Behold the son of my sister Éowyn daughter of Éomund; behold Fastred of Ithilien, my chosen inheritor!"  He took Fastred by his shoulder and brought him to the edge of the porch, turning him so that all assembled upon the platform by the fountain could see him clearly; he held his sword above Fastred's head and shouted:  "Hail the heir of Meduseld!"

"Hail the heir of Meduseld!  Westu Fastred hál!" cried the people.  Fastred blushed crimson; he did not care to be the center of attention, and wished he had at least had time for a wash-and-brush first; but he glanced sideways then, at Lord Lassah as he stood by Éomer upon the porch, and his friend looked down at him, and smiled gently. 

"Westu Fastred hál!" Legolas whispered, so that only Fastred could hear.

*************************************

Fastred was given a room in the royal quarters behind the Hall.  A servant brought in a bath, and another his things; then they both left him alone in the room.  Fastred stood for a moment looking round.  "So this shall be my room," he thought, turning round about and peering into the dark corners.  "It is not like my room at home – the walls are of wood, and there are no windows, and the bed is very big, near big as Mother and Father's.  I hope it is a down tick – straw is so musty."  He went to the bed, tying the curtains aside, and sat upon it, bouncing a little; the ropes squeaked but were firm, and the mattress gave squishily beneath his bottom.  "Feather," he sighed, somewhat consoled, and stroked the bed sheets; they were linen, very old and soft.  "At least I shall sleep well," he said to himself, and quickly stripping stepped into the bath.

He washed as best he could in the dim light of the single candle that illuminated the windowless room.  When he arose out of the water and toweled off he hunted round for his good clothes, scattering his belongings over the bed; a dark-green bottle rolled out of a corner of his rucksack and he caught it ere it fell.

"Mother's olive oil!" he thought.  "I had forgotten; she entrusted it to me to give unto my aunt – what shall I call her; my sister-brother-wife?  That is awkward; perhaps I should simply call her 'my lady' instead."  He lifted the bottle, holding it to the candle light; he saw bay leaves and rosemary branches moving sluggishly round in it.  "I shall give it unto her before the banquet," he decided; " 'twould look silly to present it publicly; people should think it an odd offering."

He found his good shirt and doublet, and shrugged into them; he located the hose with some difficulty – they had been rolled into a tight ball, and secreted in a little pocket – and, unable to track down his shoes, upended the sack upon the bed and they tumbled out.  He put them on and laced them up, then, because he was a tidy boy, refolded his clothes and put them in the chest, hanging his cloak upon a hook near the door.  He found a small shelf for his books and those few mementoes he had brought along with him and stood for a moment, feeling a little lost.  His tooth collection and shiny rocks looked very out of place upon the rough wood shelf; fortunately his dagger, with its intricately carven horse's head, fit in better.  He thought of Théalof then, and picked up the dagger, affixing it to his belt.  "Just in case Uncle Éomer has had no word of his misdeeds," he said to himself; "this time I shall be prepared."  And taking up the bottle of oil he went out to the hallway.

Meduseld was far smaller than his parents' home in Osgiliath, and made of wood; it was warm for there were few windows to let in the cold winds that whipped across the plains of Rohan; it was also dark, and smoky, for the torches upon the walls were lit with pitch.  He came to the corner of the hall leading to the royal chambers, then paused; he heard muffled shouting, and the buzz of anxious voices ahead; wondering if he were going to intrude upon some private scene of domestic predicament, but afire with curiosity, he trotted round the corner.

There was a small group of people crowded before the doors of the bedchamber, huddled together; they appeared to be servants and soldiers for the most part, though there were several girls in pretty dresses standing round in the shadows, craning their necks to see over the shoulders of the adults.  In front of the door stood Andunië, looking bored, and Gimli, looking disgusted, and Bandobras, looking extremely put out.  Fastred could hear now that the shouting was occurring within the bedchamber, and that it were his uncle who spoke so; as he opened his mouth to call to Bandobras for explanation the door opened, and Lord Lassah came out in naught but breeches and a linen shirt, rolled up at the sleeves; he was drying his hands on a rough brown towel, and looked very grim.  Hirilcúllas came out behind him, her dark eyes flashing and lips pressed into a thin line.  Gimli turned to Legolas and said:  "Well?"

"Well, naught so far," said Legolas with a sigh, handing the towel to a servant who stood anxiously by.  "But the queen will not be at the presentation tonight; in fact if I have my way she shall be abed 'til spring."  He turned to an older woman and two maidservants and said in a voice that brooked no argument:  "Flat upon her back, feet upon the pillows.  Broth and milk and bread and fruit; no mead nor wine nor ale.  She is not to get up; should she desire something it is up to you, O maidservants of the Mark, to so procure it.  Keep a fire lit in her room, but the windows open as well.  And remember for this is of prime importance:  She is not to walk.  Keep her abed; bind her there with ropes if need be.  Should she give unto you some contrary order you may refer the charge to me, and I shall put her in her place."

The servants murmured: "Yes, my lord," and looked round uneasily.  Just then the door opened and Éomer burst out, very red in the face, and looking very angry.  His servants shrank back from him, but Legolas turned to him and fixed the young king with a level gaze; his expression was stiff, and Fastred could see a fire simmering behind his gray eyes.

"And have you finished yet, O King of the Mark, reducing your beleaguered wife to tears?" he asked coolly.  "Does her health mean so little to you, that you should wear her down thus by accusing her of keeping secrets from you?"

"She ought to have told me immediately," growled Éomer, glaring at Legolas.  "She ought not to have kept this from me; I deserved to know.  And now her very life is in danger!  What was she thinking, to keep silent about this?"

Gimli snorted, and Legolas raised his eyebrows.  "Well if your response to her collapse is any indication I reproach her not for her silence," he said.  "Besides which you act as though this were her doing and hers alone; I have lived for many centuries, my friend, and have yet to run across such a situation in which the woman got into this condition without her husband's willing, if not fervent, contribution; in fact more often than not it is the man's impetus, and not the wife's."

Éomer flushed deeper still, but he wavered, and glanced uncomfortably at the servants, some of whom were smiling in spite of themselves.  "Contribution be damned, Legolas," he muttered; "you are not supposed to know anything of that."

"I beg you, Éomer, do not confuse purity with naïveté," said Legolas wryly, unrolling his shirt sleeves and letting Bandobras button them up for him.  He glanced into the shadows then, and saw Fastred standing there staring; Éomer followed his look and started.

"Fastred!" he said, and striding from the door he approached his nephew.  He put one heavy hand upon Fastred's shoulder; Fastred could feel him trembling.  "You have come at a bad time I fear, O sister-son; do you please go unto your room, or at least to the ante-chamber; these doings do not concern you."

"I should have thought they concerned him rather deeply," said Gimli; "Lothíriel is his kinswoman after all."

"Is she ill?" blurted Fastred; he had seen the look of fear upon his uncle's face, and felt a cold sharp blade pierce his own heart.  He did not want to live at Meduseld at all, but to be constrained to dwell therein lacking Lothíriel's tender presence would be harsh indeed.  He looked up at Éomer and swallowed heavily.  "Is – is she going to die?"

"Hush, hush, O Fastred!" said Legolas soothingly, coming up and laying a gentle hand upon the boy's head.  "She is not well, that is true; but I hope I have come in time, and your lord uncle spared this deep sorrow."  He looked at the green glass bottle clutched tight in Fastred's hand and said:  "What is that you have there, Little One?"

"Olive oil," said Fastred, glancing at the attentive servants and blushing.  "From Moth—my Lady Mother.  She did charge me with giving it unto my Lady Lothíriel."

"Ah, yes; she will like that," said Éomer, his shoulders slumping a little; he looked a little foolishly at Legolas.  "Can he – ought he to – that is – I should rather – "  He stammered a little, then fell silent.  Legolas smiled, his eyes warming.

"Aye, good Éomer; he can, and ought, and so ought you."  He turned them both then toward the door and said:  "Go you both unto the queen; she languishes, and you might brighten her face by your offerings of unguents."  Éomer gave him a sharp look, then looked sheepish; tightening his grip upon Fastred's shoulder he led the boy into the royal bedchamber.  As Bandobras shut the door behind them Fastred caught the expression upon the Hobbit's face; he was frowning up at the king, and looked murderous.  The great oak door swung to with a bang, and Fastred and his uncle stepped into the room.

It was very dark, for the lamps upon the tables were turned down; there was a wide low window upon the eastern wall, through which Fastred could glimpse stars peeping out from behind the rushing clouds; the great dark bulk of the Ered Nimrais loomed blackly upon the south.  The room was full of flickering shadow, lying deepest upon the great canopied bed in the center; the tapestried curtains were drawn, and from behind them Fastred heard a woman weakly weeping.  He paused, unsure; but Éomer gave him a gentle push forward, so he came to the bed, and twitched aside the curtain and looked within.

His aunt lay there, with a pallor rivaling the white sheets which dressed the bed; her large brown eyes were sunk in dark blue circles and her cheekbones jutted; her throat as it emerged from the lace collar of her gown was thin and sunken, and the hands upon the coverlet mere bone.  Fastred was hard-put not to gasp, for it had been but three years ere he had seen Lothíriel, and though she had certainly been thin had not looked quite so bad as this.  All of a sudden he realized what a terrible toll heir-making had taken upon her, and in that instant knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had done the right thing to come to Rohan.

She turned her head slowly to him, the tears running in silver tracks down her hollow cheeks; when she recognized him she took a sharp breath, her eyes lighting with hope, and whispered:  "Fastred!"

Fastred felt as though someone had wadded up a great lump of cloth and stuck it in his throat.  He could not swallow it away, because for some reason it was squeezing tears out his own eyes, and her face blurred; he groped for her hand, which was cold and gaunt.  "My Lady," he said, though it came out in a croak.  He took a deep breath, and dashed the tears away upon his sleeve.  "Look," he said, forcing his voice to sound cheerful; "I have brought you a present, O Queen."  He held up the bottle so she could see it.  "It is from my Lady Mother; it is olive oil, your majesty, flavored with rosemary and bay."  He stammered to a halt, wondering if she had heard him, and if she were offended by the titles, but in truth he knew not what to say, nor how to address her; he could scarcely call her "Dear Aunt" anymore.  But she smiled up at him and said:

"Fastred, O Fastred; son of Osgiliath, son of Rohan!  You have come to us in our hour of need; you succor us and hold us up.  O look at him, Éomer; look at him, O mine husband; do you not see Faramir's face as he looks upon you?  See you the grandchild of Denethor, born of the line of Ecthelion of the Tower!"  She closed her eyes then, her hand gripping Fastred's tight; she murmured:  "He shall be of Rohan and of Gondor; strength shall be in his sword-arm and truth in his words; his eyes shall pierce the hearts of men and his dreams show forth mysteries from afar."  Her voice faltered and broke, and her hand loosed its grip; Fastred's heart swelled with fear thinking she had failed, but he looked then and saw her heart beating slowly in the hollow of her collarbone.  Then his uncle took him gently aside, his face full of sorrow.

"Go you now, O Fastred mine heir; I shall meet with you anon."  And turning from the boy he sat by his wife's side, taking her hand in his and watching over her; Fastred trembling crossed the dark room to the door and went out.  He shut the heavy door behind him and stood, filled with grief and hardly knowing what to do next; to his relief the hallway had cleared, though when he looked round he saw in the shadows a slim shape hidden in the darkness; it hesitated, and moved into the light, and Fastred saw it was one of the young girls who had stood by whilst Legolas had spoken to his uncle.  She regarded him warily, and Fastred was reminded of a lost dog looking for a new home; she had that same look about her, of fear and uncertainty mingled with faint hope.

"The queen," she whispered; her voice was so soft Fastred could scarcely hear it.  "She is not – she has not - ?"

"No," said Fastred straightening up; he realized he was still clutching the bottle of oil.  "She is ill but Lord Lass – Legolas will make her well again."

She watched him, hanging back in the shadows; her eyes were dark and it seemed to Fastred her hair was not so fair as her fellow maids', though that might have been the torch light.  He wondered if he ought to introduce himself, even though she was certain to know who he was; and that being the case, how he should inquire of her own name.  Just as he had decided upon a course of action however she bobbed a quick curtsey, and ran down the dark hall.  Fastred took a deep breath.  He was tempted to use a word he'd heard in the armory once, when his father's Rangers had not known he was listening; it would have made him feel better, but then he thought perhaps more girls were lurking in the shadows and he might offend them; so much trammeled in his heart he returned to his rooms.  He did not feel like going to the presentation feast at all.