Light of Edoras

Epilogue

The candlelight flickered in the bedroom and the dying fire just barely illuminated the grand carvings on the wall. The thick bed curtains moved slowly in the soft breeze that had found its way through the open windows. This time of year, there was always a constant breeze over the grand plains, and at this time of night, when everything was quiet, the wind brought with it the soft sounds of the horses as they settled down for the night. The moon was almost at its highest, casting a blueish glow on the thatched roofs throughout the fort.

"Nan," the young boy said quietly.

The grandmother turned to her two quiet grandchildren. Her granddaughter was fast asleep, gently resting against her brother who was wide awake, staring at his grandmother with admiration.

Her grandson spoke softly, as if afraid he was disturbing the very story his grandmother had just finished telling.

"That story really happened?"

The grandmother nodded, "Aye it did. And that is why every time the eroed returns, the beacon is lit."

The grandson took a moment to think about all that he had learned, he had never thought the reason why the beacon was lit was in honor of an actual person.

"You speak as if you were actually there," the grandson said sleepily, finally succumbing to the tiredness he felt in his eyes.

The grandmother smiled, "I have heard this story more times than I could count," she said, rising somewhat stiffly from her chair, "my grandfather would tell it to me every night before I went to sleep."

She slowly made her way to her grandchildren and drew the blankets up for each of them.

"Goodnight my dearest Gleowyn," she whispered kissing her sleeping granddaughter on her cheek.

She walked to the other side of the bed, stiffly, the wearies of time catching up to her more than she would like. She would never understand how her own grandmother moved with such strength and grace at her advanced age.

"Goodnight my dear," she said softly kissing her grandson, who still lay deep in thought.

She turned to make her way into the hall, ready to make her way to her own bedchambers, where hopefully her chambermaid had put hot coals in her bed to fight away the chill in her old bones.

"Nan" a soft voice called.

"Yes Eomund," she answered turning away from the door to see his small frame sitting up once again.

"You knew her didn't you?" he asked.

His grandmother smiled, "I did. She was an incredible person and an even better queen. She and Eomer led the Rohirrim through many peaceful years."

She sighed lovingly as she made her way back to her grandson's bed and brought the blankets up around him yet again, settling him down once more for sleep.

"I want to be a king like Eomer."

His grandmother smiled, "To be a king like Eomer, you need a queen like Lyrian," she leaned down and kissed his forehead, "You have a long time before you have to worry about any of that," she said softly.

Eomund nodded sleepily finally allowing his eyes to close.

His grandmother smiled, he was so much like his father. She softly left the bedchamber and entered the hall. Though it was late in the day, the hall was still bustling with life. Chambermaids hurried around settling the royal guests down for the night, dogs followed the kitchen boys around as they cleaned up from the feast. The Steward of Gondor visited at the start of every year, and always with more men than was probably needed, but no one paid that much mind. It simply made for a greater feast.

As she made her way down the hall towards her own bedchambers, anyone she passed would pause and curtsy, or bow as she passed. The grandmother smiled at each person and greeted all by name, wishing them all a goodnight. She paused before her bedchambers. There on the wall was a large tapestry, carefully crafted and kept, depicting a scene that made her smile each time she passed. In the scene, each astride their enormous chargers, sat Lyrian and Eomer, leading their men in the Charge of Pelannor fields.

The old woman smiled fondly at the memory of the stories she herself had heard from her own grandmother.

"Goodnight Nan."