[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Edoras was a sea of colour and activity as the whole city turned out to commemorate the victory of Gondor and Rohan over the forces of the Eye on that memorable day four years ago. The throngs that crowded the streets had been swelled by the hundreds of people, like Hearpwine, who had made the long trek to Edoras to help celebrate this day. At every corner and in every square and yard, it seemed there was another bard singing of that day, or a storyteller holding those about him rapt with his spell. There were puppeteers depicting the great battle for the benefit of the younger children, and many a scarred veteran doing the same for those children’s parents. All the buildings that they passed were decked with the banners and pennants of the families who held them or abode within. Some of them bore still the blood and stain of their service in the field of battle on that day, but their soiling was as a mark of greatness upon them – token of the deeds that had been performed.

Hearpwine still held Mae’s hand but he barely felt it, so engrossed was he by the sights that surrounded them and the visions that filled his mind. Already, he could see these same crowds thronging to hear his lays and clamouring for more a year from now, when, compelled by his King, he would stand forth in the great yard before the Golden Hall and sing of the deeds and death of the Rohirrim, and of the doom that came to all on the bloody fields of the Pelennor. His feet hurried past the sights and sounds and his hadn pulled all the more insistently upon Mae to follow him. Twice she gasped and begged his leave to stop so she could watch the entertainment, but the young bard was heedless as wood. Finally, Liornung, who had been scrambling to keep pace with the younger man, rushed ahead and placed a restraining hand on Hearpwine’s shoulder, crying out, “My friend, my friend! The Contest has not begun already, there is time to enjoy this day and look at what other feats are being performed in honour of it.” Hearpwine stopped his mad rush, but it was clear to the other two that he was loath to do it. He faced them and his eyes blazed with a light much like the kind of madness that sometimes comes over warriors in battle. He made to speak, but the instant his eye fell on Mae where she stood panting from their rush and rubbing her hand where Hearpwine’s overeager fingers had crushed it, his retort died on his lips and was replaced by his usual, gentler manner. “I beg your pardon, both, my friends!” he cried. “I was not thinking of you – indeed, I was not thinking of anything save the Contest. It is a fault of mine that I hope I can make up to you by the end of this glorious day. But bear in mind: I have ridden for four days and nights to reach Edoras in time to claim my place before the King, the thought of arriving late now…it is enough to drive me to distraction!”

Liornung laughed and clapped his young friend on the back. “Fear not, Hearpwine, I promise you by all the strings on my fiddle that we shall have you in Meduseld before the Contest begins. But Mae is young, and I have been long away from Edoras – we both desire to see what our people are doing this day in celebration. And you, who have never been out of your land in the westfolds, you must not deny yourself this chance to see the noblest and most courteous of our people at their best!”

“Yes,” Mae said quietly, looking at Hearpwine with the same pleading expression that had won over Aylwen, and even Bêthberry, “let us take the time to watch at least one puppet show or listen to a single story!” Her eyes roved about the crowds and saw afar off a field where the lists had been drawn for a show of horsemanship. Her eyes blazed, “Look!” she cried, “a tournament is about to begin! Come, uncle and good Hearpwine, we must attend to that at least.”

Mae would have run off to watch the horses that instant had not Hearpwine taken her gently by the arm and held her back. He smiled at her, but spoke to Liornung. “You are both quite right. I was heedless and foolish. But please, allow me first to gaze upon the Golden Hall for I have only seen it in my songs and dreams. When I arrived in Edoras yesterday morning, the sun had not yet gained its advantage of the Mountains and all was dark and grey. Please, I implore you both, allow me but once to look upon the Hall where I shall reign as bard of Rohan, and then I promise you that all the time we have before the Contest begins will be spent in whatever merriment you wish.”

Liornung smiled knowingly at the young man, but Mae was clearly disappointed at not being able to immediately rush off to see the display of horsemanship. But because of their love for this young man they agreed to his request. They moved up the hill once more, although not at the rash pace that Hearpwine had earlier set, and were soon within sight of Meduseld. They arrived just as the sun rose above the Mountains, filling the valley with her golden rays. The thatch upon the roof of the Golden Hall flamed with the light and the polished wood of her beams and gilt of her adornments flashed and glittered like gems. High above the Hall flew the pennant of the King, and in a circle about it were the standards of all the Lords of the Mark who attended upon the King this day.

Liornung looked to his friend to gauge his reaction and was surprised by what he saw upon his countenance. “My friend,” he said with incredulity, “whatever could be amiss? You look as though you have travelled far to see an old friend and found only an empty house and a cold hearth!”

Hearpwine was silent for a long moment as he gazed that the Hall. When he spoke, he did so in muted tones so that Liornung and Mae had to strain to hear him above the rising sounds of the crowds about them. “It is lovely, as lovely as I had dreamed. But now that I behold it for the first time in the waking world it seems, somehow…smaller.”