Chapter 3 -- Compensation

When she awoke, Morwen was sitting on her bedside.  “Rilian, time to get up.  It is nearly noon and there is much to do.”

            “Is my horse back yet, Morwen?”

            “I do not think so.  Why?”

            “That young man promised to return him today.  I wonder what could be keeping him.”

            “You must remember, he is a soldier and he was up early yesterday morning and late last night.  Perhaps his father is punishing him for staying out so late.  I’m sure he will return your horse.”

            With that, Morwen kissed her sister’s forehead, got up and left the room to allow Hirilian to dress, which she did in short order.  Foregoing breakfast, or lunch really, she went straight to the stables.  Her horse was not there, nor any sign of him.  She stomped her foot and started to return to the palace.  Halfway she met Ceorl, leading her horse and talking gently to him.  She stopped and he was almost upon her when he noticed her and stopped suddenly.  “What took you so long?  I’ve been waiting.”

            He seemed some taken aback.  “As I told you, my father was none too pleased with my staying out late against orders.  Yet when he heard my defense he lightened the sentence to only three hours,” ‘and five lashes’ he added silently, his back still smarting.  “So you see, I have only just been able to get out of the house, much less bring your horse to you, my lady, but I apologize for my temper last night.  It had been a long day.  I am sorry.”

            At this opening Hirilian hardly knew what to say.  She had promised herself she would apologize to him and yet he had turned the tables on her.  “Please, listen to me.  My brother told me his story last night, or rather this morning, and I promised myself one thing.”

            “And what was that, my lady?”

            “I’m sorry for the way I treated you yesterday.  You were acting on orders and I was acting on my own fancy.  You were doing what you were told and I was being prideful.  Just now, you were doing your best and I was being rude. 

            “When you apologized to me for doing what was right, I felt small and mean.  I am sorry, for all I did yesterday and today.  Let us start again, shall we?  Let us pretend that none of this ever happened.  We have just met.  Shall we be friends?”

            He smiled at her.  “Of course.  I shall lead your horse to your stable and then I’m afraid I must report for duty yet again.  There is no rest in the army.  I shall be in the same place as yesterday if you wish to come and see me.  It gets lonely and boring out on guard all afternoon.  Anyway, I’ll need something to keep me from falling asleep, and after what happened to Lord Belecthor the alert is even higher, but I’m sure everything will be all right.”

            She smiled and took her place on the other side of the horse.  Together they walked to the stable.

            When the horse was put away in his stall Ceorl stepped back.  “Well, my lady, here is the time in which you must get back to your parents and I to my post.  I hope to see you later this afternoon.”  With that he placed his helmet on his head and mounted his horse, which stood nearby where he had tied it.  He lifted a hand to her as he rode off and was soon gone down the road.

            Hirilian looked after him and quickly went back into the palace to get ready for her ride.

*          *          *

            It was another long day.  Ceorl manned his post for the late morning and early afternoon.  Hirilian came for a short visit after midday meal.  Mid-afternoon Ceorl was relieved for a while; he caught a few hour’s sleep before he returned to his post for the late evening watch.

            Now he stood yawning beside his horse once again, just about fed up with this whole mind-numbing business. 

            But then he heard again the familiar cadence of galloping hoofbeats.  Exploiting the same strategy as before, Ceorl ducked into the overgrowth.  He leapt out with the intention of taking hold of the horse, but the spirited sorrel stallion had already skidded to a halt, though he reared and champed in vehement protest.  His rider was still indistinguishable beneath his heavy riding cloak, though he seemed unperturbed by the violent stop.

            “By who’s orders do you presume to cross the borders of Rohan?” Ceorl demanded, as was his duty.

            “I come by the orders of none, though I certainly did not expect my riding to be hindered.”

            The voice was calm and velvety smooth, though that made Ceorl all the more uncomfortable as it was not the reaction he expected or normally received.

            “No one is to be permitted to cross the border without the permission of Éomer King,” he replied brusquely.  “Would you now be so kind as to tell me exactly who you are, and from whence you came?”

            “Exactly?” the stranger asked.

            “Speak quickly!” Ceorl snapped, growing antsy.  “As a soldier of the King, I demand that you tell me your name – your full name!”

            The rider seemed to sigh reluctantly.  “Very well.”  He shrugged off his hood; Ceorl immediately bit his tongue.  “I am Legolas,” he said, his fair white face shining brightly in the pale moonlight.  “Coron Ernil Arat a Erui Ardagoron Sindarin a Nandorin Edhil o Forn Lasgalen, Iôn a Réd Eldarin Aran Thranduil, Arat Ernil o Forn Aranarth.  In the common tongue, Crown Prince Royal and First Knight of the Sindarin and Silvan Elves of Northern Greenwood, Son and Heir of His Elven Majesty Thranduil, High Prince of the Northern Realm.  You asked me for my name; I have given it.”

            Ceorl was aghast at himself for his former impudence; but he did not fail to notice that the elven-prince recited his title as though it were a weary litany, something he would rather not have brought to Ceorl’s attention.

            “Forgive me, Your Highness,” Ceorl stammered, feeling like a clod under the gaze of the venerable being before him.  “I did not realize – ”

            Legolas held up a hand to quiet him.  “Please, think nothing of it.  Narion of Ithilien is here in Rohan, is he not?”

            “He is,” Ceorl answered, still uncomfortable.

            Just then they were interrupted by the arrival of Ceorl’s replacement.  The Elf seemed just as glad to see him as Ceorl was.  “Impeccable timing, ar Rohir,” he called.

            “Legolas!” the soldier called.  “Long has it been since I have seen you here in Rohan!”

            “The same might I say of you!  Thrice now have I visited your lands; you have yet to fulfill your promise and come to mine!”

            Now Ceorl felt thoroughly lost, having no clue as to what they were talking about.

            “I promise to come before long.  You know I was but a boy when I told you that!  Now that I am grown, I shall ride to Ithilien as soon as the King sees fit to give me leave.”

            They parted with a few more friendly comments.  Legolas turned back to Ceorl.  “You are returning to Edoras?”

            “Yes.”

            “Good.  You shall ride back with me; one wants for company on these long roads.”