On the Wings of the Storm

Epilogue

Yule 3019, Edoras.

I tied up the last stitch and snipped off the remaining thread with my scissors. There! Shaking out my husband's shirt, I admired my handiwork. It would do: the rent along one sleeve where he had torn it during weapons practice was almost invisible. Then I had to suppress a grin. How pleased my aunt would be if she could see me. Not that I needed to mend Éomer's clothes - there were plenty of needlewomen in Edoras willing to do that service - but it was such a wonderfully domestic occupation. After the horrors of the war, the very ordinariness of it was a tonic for my soul.

"The wind is dropping," Ceolwen interrupted my reverie.

I stretched, and got up to join her at the window. While I had been working on Éomer's shirt, night had fallen. Snowflakes drifted past, sparkling for an instant in the golden light of our candles, before vanishing into the darkness. I shivered, for with the fires allowed to go out, my solar, usually so cosy, was getting chilly. Already frost patterns had formed on the windowpanes, unfurling their delicate fronds across the glass like icy ferns.

I peered out into the darkness. "Shouldn't the men be back by now?"

"Don't worry," Aeffe quipped from her place by the cooling fireplace, "they won't miss the feast. Not with the prospect of all that ale flowing freely."

My other ladies-in-waiting greeted this prediction with giggles, but Aescwyn's young daughter, who sat on the carpet by Aeffe's feet, playing with her baby brother and little Ermenred, looked at her with big eyes. Leofwen was a serious child, and not used to having her elders spoken about in that manner.

Her mother looked up from her embroidery frame and smiled at her reassuringly. "It's early yet. No need to worry."

"At least we are nice and dry," Ceolwen said.

We exchanged a conspiratorial grin, for the men would be half frozen when they returned from their afternoon's excursion. The Yule Hunt had been postponed due to the storm, so they had decided to just go for a ride across the plains. The women on the other hand had all elected to stay in and spend the time chatting and exchanging news. While the twins had made their home with me in Edoras for the time being, Ceolwen had only arrived the day before and had wanted a detailed description of Éowyn's wedding in Minas Tirith.

Now she took my arm and lowered her voice. "I've heard that your brother, Prince Erchirion, is still staying here?"

Involuntarily, I glanced towards Leofe, who was practicing a new ballad on her small lap harp, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Yes, he is." Had rumours reached the Hornburg already?

Ceolwen followed my eyes. "Leofe's letters have been full of him, how clever he is, and how handsome... Should Erkenbrand be concerned?"

"Only if he objects to a prince as a son-in-law."

Her eyebrows went up. "I see." Suddenly she grinned. "Princess Leofe does have a nice ring."

I chuckled. No, Leofe would not object to that at all. But actually I thought that she was honestly smitten with my brother – she had even compared him favourably to Arwen's two brothers! As for Erchirion, he had made his intentions clear in his own quiet way.

"Does that mean that we will lose her to Gondor soon?" Ceolwen asked.

I shook my head. "Not necessarily. Éomer would like Erchirion to stay on, for he has been a great help during the last few months."

My brother's extensive knowledge of Gondor had come in very useful while trading for supplies to last us through the winter, but Éomer had further plans. The three of us had spent many an afternoon discussing possible changes for the Mark, ranging from a new system of relay stations along the Great West Road to improved fortification of Edoras. Which reminded me of my own pet project.