Epilogue – The Time Has Come

Ceorl sat, sharpening his sword, Beleg by his side. The past few days the éored had been in Edoras and it would seem that no orders were forthcoming. It was a much needed rest as they had been on the patrol for well over four weeks before returning home. In that time they had seen a fair bit of action and every man in the company was short of temper and energy by the end.

He looked up at the sound of approaching hoof beats. He smiled and stood as he recognized the fair countenance of Prince Legolas. It had been several months since Legolas had visited, but the time seemed to sit easily upon him; Ceorl knew that he himself had changed a great deal. The weeks of exposure to the elements of Nature had darkened his skin considerably and his scant beard had grown out. Also there was that quality about him that marked a veteran leader.

Legolas hailed him from a distance and Beleg flopped his tail lazily in greeting. The pup had grown in the past ten months and his shoulder now reached near to Ceorl’s mid-thigh. He was a strong animal and had matured wonderfully, now serving Athelwyn in countless ways. Ceorl never feared leaving his mother alone anymore, that was for sure.

Legolas dismounted lightly beside his young friend. "Mae govannen, mellon nîn," he greeted the young captain.

"Good morning, my Lord," Ceorl said respectfully.

Legolas sighed. "Ceorl," he said, placing his hand on the young man’s shoulder, "how many times have I told you. My name is Legolas; so could you please stop that ‘my Lord’ business?"

"Very well, Legolas," Ceorl said smiling. Ever had this been a friendly dispute between them. As often as Legolas reminded him, Ceorl could not help but address the Prince with the respect due one of such high social rank. Even Éomer King treated Legolas with respect, how could a mere captain do less? "How is everyone in Ithilien?" he asked casually.

"She is doing well," Legolas answered with a mischievous smile. Ceorl flushed slightly, grinning sheepishly at his perceptive friend. "As a matter of fact," Legolas continued, reaching into his small satchel, "I have a letter for you."

Ceorl looked slightly apprehensive. "What is wrong?" Legolas asked him curiously. "You can read, can you not? I thought you were going to have Eorl teach you."

"Yes, my . . . uh . . . Legolas, I can read, but it is the thought of what the letter might contain the frightens me."

"Do not worry, my friend," he said, handing the letter to him. "I shall leave you to read that in peace. Is your mother home?"

"Yes. I believe you will find her in the kitchen. She was cooking the last time I looked."

Legolas patted Ceorl reassuringly on the shoulder, then entered the house. Ceorl resumed his seat on the stoop. The letter didn’t look potent. Maybe it was a herald of good news and not ill.

Impatient, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment; inside was the strong, firm hand of Lord Narion. It was little more than a note really, but it could be enough to change Ceorl’s life. His heart rising to his throat, Ceorl began.

Ceorl, it read,

I send my sincere hope that all is well with you and your dear mother as you read this. The family is well here and, I am happy to say, Belecthor has been granted a captaincy in Ithilien’s army. Hirilian has only grown in beauty and her love for you, I am pleased to inform you. She speaks of you every day and looks to the time when we shall see you again. Your ring has not been removed from her finger since the day it was received.

And now for the news which, I hope, you have been awaiting with bated breath. After much discussion and contemplation, Hirilian’s mother and I deem her old enough to marry as she chooses.

You may send her a letter, asking her to join you there in Rohan, or (we would prefer this choice) you may come seeking her in person. Knowing my uncle, he would grant you leave enough to make the trip, for he was young once also.

We await your answer with hope and expectation.

Narion

Ceorl’s face beamed and he hugged Beleg tightly around the neck. "Can you believe it, Beleg?" he asked the dog, swiftly rereading the letter. "My dreams are coming true even as we sit here!"

Beleg looked tolerantly up at him, yawning lazily. Ceorl smiled and vigorously rubbed the dog’s head. Not wanting to answer any questions at the moment, Ceorl slipped silently through the back door of the house and slid stealthily into his room. He sat down at his small table under the window and pulled out his quill and parchment.

He thought carefully for a moment, then dipped his quill in the ink. Carefully placing it on his paper he began his answer. His writing skills were not honed to perfection by years of practice, but he felt that it would do.

Several attempts were crumpled and thrown to the floor before he completed it to his satisfaction. It read: My Lord Narion,

I was pleased to receive your letter today and have taken the time to answer before you have chance enough to change your mind. Indeed, I have been awaiting this information with expectation since the day you left. It brings peace to my heart to learn of Lady Hirilian’s undying love and I can merely hope that I am worthy of her.

I send my congratulations upon Belecthor’s appointment. If he is half the man his father is, then the men of Ithilien have nothing to fear in their young leader, I am sure. My own command has been far from dull and I am pleased to say that even Éomer King recognizes the efforts my men put forth. They are truly a wonderful fighting force and I am proud to command them.

I remain very truly and thankfully your humble servant,

Ceorl, son of Aldor

He set it aside to dry and began again. This one took much more thought and even more of the precious parchment was thrown to the floor. He spared nothing in his effort to perfect this precious petition.

His ink well was near to empty and his pile of parchment on the floor was greater than his unused portion still on the table when a glance out the small window informed him that it was well passed midday. He had been in here all morning.

He stretched his tired arms and flexed his weary fingers. Slouching lazily in his chair, Ceorl reread his letter. He had strived to faultlessness in writing the short entreaty before him, but it read to his satisfaction and said all that he felt in few words.

Folding both letters carefully, Ceorl sealed them, addressed them and carried them to the kitchen. He found Legolas and Athelwyn, visiting pleasantly over lunch. "Ah! Ceorl," Legolas smiled up at him as he entered.

"Good afternoon, Legolas," Ceorl said, sitting down at the table. "I was wondering if you would do me the honor of bringing these to Ithilien when you return."

"It would be my pleasure," Legolas replied, taking the letters from Ceorl.

Athelwyn placed a steaming plate before her son. "Here, I have kept it hot for you. I hope it is not burnt."

"Thank you, mother. Could you pass the bread please, Legolas?"

~*~*~*~*~

Legolas dismounted before the home of Lord Narion. He had not remained in Rohan long as he knew the importance of the two letters he carried. He patted his proud courser before leaving him. The powerful steed had borne him swiftly and faithfully as always.

He was greeted at the door by Morwen who smiled in pleasant surprise. "Legolas! We did not expect you back for a few weeks! Please, come in." She took his cloak and hung it in the hall before leading him into the parlor.

Narion stood as the Prince entered. "Legolas!" he exclaimed happily. "Please, come in my library where we can talk. You may visit with the family later." Once they were alone, Narion turned to Legolas. "Well?" he asked calmly but with impatience tingeing his voice. "Did he answer?"

"Indeed he did," Legolas answered smiling, "and it took him all morning to do so. I have here two letters. One for yourself and one for the Lady in question."

Narion took them both, thanking his friend absentmindedly. Legolas retired quietly, leaving Narion in peace to read. After reading the sincere words of the young captain, in the letter addressed to himself, Narion called for his daughter. She had known nothing of her father’s letter as Narion had wanted to wait before raising her hopes.

She entered the library like a breath of fresh air, smiling lovingly at her father as she crossed to him. "What is it, father?" she asked serenely.

"I have a letter for you, from Ceorl," he said, noting the quick change in her complexion. He handed it to her with a reassuring smile before leaving her alone in the large room.

Slowly, almost fearfully, she broke the seal and unfolded the letter. It was not Eorl’s hand, nor any other she knew. Sure enough, the bottom was signed Captain Ceorl of Rohan.

Her heart beating violently, her breath coming in quick, irregular gasps, she slowly read the lines, few though they were.

My sweet lady, hear my prayer and have pity on me if thou wilt. There is no other maid like thee; so fair, so beautiful, so bright. Sweet lady, pity me and have mercy on thy knight. Gracious lady, gentle and sweet, I cry to thee for mercy. I am thy man with hand and foot in every way I can.

I pray thee; return to Rohan to remain with me as my wife. I can live no longer without thee by my side. Maiden, patient and well-taught, I am in the bonds of thy love and everything draws me to thee.

I shall remain forever your devoted cavalier,

Captain Ceorl of Rohan

She read the letter through several times before truly comprehending their meaning. A radiant smile lighting her face, she called out for her brother. As he entered the library, she handed him the letter. "Belecthor, this is from Ceorl. I want you to read it." Smiling knowingly, he took the letter from her and looked it over. "Well?" she asked when he had finished.

"Would you really listen to me if I said I did not want you to marry him?" he questioned teasingly.

"Frankly, no I would not," she answered, taking her brother’s arm. "But still, I want to know. Do you approve?"

"I have told you before, sister," he said, his arm around her shoulders. "There is no one I would rather you marry. Having Ceorl for a brother and the father of my nieces and nephews will be splendid, truly. Come," he said, refolding the letter and handing it back to her. "Let us go tell mother and Morwen."

~*~*~*~*~

Ceorl raised his spear, calling loudly, "Halt!" The column came to a standstill. Éomer King had sent the entire company to Ithilien with orders to spend some small amount of time scouting their own borders before continuing on to their destination. Ceorl had never been to Ithilien before, but Elfwine had given him explicit instructions before they left, and they stopped now before the Steward’s Halls. He suddenly doubted his worthiness to wed the daughter of a Lord. Would she be happy living in such poor quarters as he could offer?

He had no time to change his mind, for the door was opened by a maid as Ceorl dismounted. "May I help you, my lord?" she asked curiously, looking him up and down.

"I would like to speak with Lord Narion, if I may."

"Lord Narion, my lord? Are you sure you do not mean Prince Faramir the Steward?"

"I am sure."

"Wait just a moment." The small woman disappeared, closing the door gently behind her. After a moment, she reappeared and directed him to the library. Before he left, Ceorl ordered his men to dismount and see to their horses.

The library was empty when he entered, but he was amazed by the vast amount of books lining the walls. "My master will be with you in a moment. Can I offer you something to drink? Some refreshment would no doubt do you good after your long journey."

"No, thank you. I am fine."

Narion entered as the maid left, closing the door behind him. The Lord’s face broke forth in a smile. "Ceorl, my boy!" he exclaimed loudly before covering his mouth and looking guiltily back at the door behind him. But it remained firmly closed, so he crossed the room to the young captain and placed his hand on Ceorl’s shoulder. "After she got her letter, we did not expect to see you here."

"After hearing my options," Ceorl smiled, "I decided to choose both. Is she well?"

"Yes, Ceorl, she is. She is so happy since reading your letter, she is still overcome with joy. Be careful when she sees you, my boy, for she may knock you down in her excitement."

"Fear not for my sake, my Lord," Ceorl replied. "I have withstood many a charge in the time since last we saw one another."

"No doubt, my boy, no doubt." He paused, smiling, before giving a slight start. "But here I am, jabbering like an old maid, when you want to see Hirilian, not just speak of her. I shall send her in. Remember my warning." He left the room with a smile, abandoning Ceorl to the agony of waiting.

She entered calmly and closed the door softly behind her before looking to see who had asked for her. He stood across the room near the large window, a smile lighting his battle hardened face, adorned with a neatly trimmed golden beard. His clothes were dusty from travel and he needed a bath, but she would have known him anywhere.

With a cry she rushed into his open arms, her lips meeting his in a passionate kiss which bridged the gap of time lost since they had last seen one another. When the embrace ended, she buried her face on his chest, clinging to him as if she would never let go. "Oh, Ceorl," she said softly, lifting her eyes to meet his. She encountered the same ice-blue depths that had engulfed her heart those long months ago, but with a difference. He, too, had suffered during their separation. She knew not how many wounds he had received in battle, nor how close he had come to death in that time, but she knew his love held true, only growing and intensifying as she was reft from him.

She caressed his face lightly with her fingertips, lingering over a small scar above his cheekbone. "Where did you come from?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" Ceorl asked with a grin.

"Once I got your letter, I did not expect to see you until we returned to Rohan."

"A host of Uruk-hi could not have kept me from you, love," he said, kissing her brow.

They stood silently for awhile, each simply enjoying the presence of the other until Hirilian pulled away slightly. "Belecthor will want to see you," she said, smiling happily up at him.

"Very well," he sighed resignedly, kissing her cheek. "If the young captain of Ithilien beckons, I suppose we must go to him."

~*~*~*~

I must admit that most of Ceorl’s letter to Hirilian is not my own work. I put in two sentences, to make it fit the occasion, and the closing. The rest is made up of lyrics from Edi beo hevene quene, a hymn in honor of Our Blessed Lady from An English Ladymass: medieval chant and polyphony sung by the Anonymous 4. It’s in Old English and I was going to have Ceorl write to Hirilian in Rohirric, but, as they have no alphabet and I wouldn’t have been able to stick in the pertinent sentences needed to make it fit, I decided he would write in the Common Tongue, but I still used the lines. :)

I’m still very grateful to all who read my stories, but mostly to all who review my stories. Without feedback, I have a tendency to think no one likes it. :) Thanks, especially to Éomer and Grey Wonderer.