Yours to Command

The Wild Rider

Four white stockings, a child will ride you,
Three white stockings, a maid will ride you,
Two white stockings, a bride will ride you,
One white stocking, a queen will ride you.

(Rohirric children's rhyme)

***

Princess Lothíriel concentrated on her horse, moving from a walk to a gentle trot, and talking to the mare in a soft voice. Éomer felt relieved to see that she had a good seat and held the reins firmly but lightly. Winterbreath listened to her new rider attentively and responded willingly to whatever aid she was given. At first, the princess had almost tried too hard, but after a while she had relaxed and her old reflexes had taken over.

She looked completely different in Rohirric dress. Éomer wondered who normally helped her choose her clothes, since she couldn't see the colours for herself. Éowyn had lent the princess a white linen blouse; it was of a style his sister particularly favoured. A sleeveless tunic embroidered with small white flowers and a pair of tight-fitting buckskin trousers went with it. In Éomer's view, the vibrant red of the tunic suited Princess Lothíriel much better than the dull brown dresses she had worn so far.

They had decided to go for a ride to the northern gate of the Rammas Echor, the great wall encircling the Pelennor, and possibly beyond that and along the Great West Road a little way. Not too far, though, as they had to be back in plenty of time for the betrothal dinner later on that evening. Princess Lothíriel's brothers had been less than thrilled when they had found out about the present given to their sister, but they had both decided to come along. Now they rode on either side of Éowyn and Princess Lothíriel, eyeing their sister almost warily. As for the princess, Éomer did not think she was aware of anything except her horse.

Firefoot snorted impatiently and he leant forward to pat the grey's neck. The stallion was spoiling for a run, but they were forced to keep to a sedate pace by the sheer size of their party. Not only Lady Annarima and her entire family had decided to come along, but also the two young Gondorian noblemen and rather to his amusement a large contingent of his own riders. He got the impression that they had come mostly to catch a glimpse of the Princess of Dol Amroth. The tale of how he had ended up with an additional packhorse, courtesy of a blind princess, had made the rounds of the camp in no time at all last night. Even his bard had chosen to join their outing.

Éomer watched the two women riding ahead of him, talking animatedly to each other. They might be clad alike, but there the resemblance ended. Éowyn wore her blond hair loose, flowing down her back, whereas the princess had her dark tresses bound into a tight bun at the back of her head. Of course here in Gondor, people associated loose hair with similar behaviour, although the more daring ladies were starting to let a strand of hair escape every now and again. No doubt they felt encouraged by the example set by their beautiful Elven queen.

In fact, one of those more daring ladies rode next to him right at that very moment. As if feeling his eyes on her, Lady Wilwarin looked up and smiled at him.

"What a charming idea to go for a ride, my Lord King," she said in a soft voice. The white palfrey she rode was gentle and well behaved and as pretty as its mistress.

"It is nice to get out a bit, isn't it?"

"Especially as the weather is so spring like," Lady Wilwarin nodded. Her riding habit clung tightly to her curves, leaving her long, slender arms bare.

"And such a lovely horse you have given dear Princess Lothíriel," she said with a gracious indication of her hand.

"Well, actually it's Éowyn's gift," he had to admit in all honesty.