yuletide in eryn carantaur


25th Girithron

After sharing a merry breakfast together, Legolas and Eowyn and their special guests withdrew to their private sitting room to exchange Yuletide gifts. The friends pulled their chairs close to the cheery fire—Aragorn beside Arwen, Eomer with Lothiriel, Hentmirë (rather uncomfortably) sandwiched between Thranduil and Gimli, and Legolas and Eldarion sitting on the floor at Eowyn’s feet.

“When I was your age, or thereabouts,” said Legolas to the little boy, “there was something I wanted more than anything in the world—”

“A winged horse,” said Thranduil.

“No Ada,” said Legolas, laughing. “At least, not as much as I wanted one of these.” He turned back to Eldarion. “It is not a real one, nadithen, but your Aunt thinks that you will like it even better.” He smiled up at Eowyn who, with a little flourish, produced a large red-and-green parcel from behind her chair, and held it out to the child.

Eldarion looked to his mother for guidance.

“What do you say, ion nín?” asked Arwen.

“Thank you.”

“You are most welcome,” said Legolas.

“Well,” said Aragorn, “shall I help you open it?” He slid from his chair and knelt beside his son, holding the parcel steady whilst Eldarion pulled off its fabric wrapping.

The boy laughed.




“He is called a ‘lion’,” said Legolas, “and he is the king of the beasts.”

“He looks like a very gentle king,” said Arwen. She turned to Eowyn. “Wherever did you find it?”

“My seamstress, Valaina, made him—to Legolas’ detailed instructions,” said Eowyn.

“What are you going to call him, lad?” asked Gimli.

The boy looked thoughtfully at the lion, his little fingers teasing its thick mane into spikes. “Eomer,” he said.

There was a startled gasp; then everyone laughed heartily—the lion’s namesake loudest of all.

Whilst the little prince, his elven uncle, and his uncle’s best friend were busy playing with the toy lion, and Arwen and Lothiriel were sharing stories about their men folk, and Thranduil and Eomer were talking horses, and Hentmirë was telling Aragorn how she had come to buy Legolas in the Carhilivren slave market, Eowyn slipped out into the lobby to arrange for more wine and sweetmeats—



Later, as she was returning to the sitting room, Eowyn heard the sound of hurrying feet and—certain that no elves could be so noisy—she ran to the door and threw it open.


“I hope we are not too late?”

“Of course not! Welcome!” She grasped his hands. “Merry Yuletide! Merry Yuletide Berengar! Come inside, both of you, out of the snow.”

At dusk, the friends sat down to a dinner of festive fare: roasted fowls and baked vegetables, pease pudding and hot chestnuts, caraway bread and ripe cheeses, and, in pride of place, Master Elros’s savoury loaf, moulded in the shape of a boar’s head.

And Eowyn, sharing her guests’ enjoyment, did not think that it was possible to be happier…


a memoryspacer

That night, in Hentmirë's guest room

“You are smiling, melmenya.” Indeed, she was radiant.

Eowyn put down her hair brush. “I am happy,” she said.

Legolas held out his arms. “Come to bed, meleth nín.”