Once they arrived at Edoras, Gandalf took Silvren into Meduseld and to the room she had previously stayed in. Eówyn was alerted to their arrival and went in search of different herbs for Gandalf to use. When she arrived at the room she had the males leave while she changed Silvren into a simple chemise then, she let them back in.
Legolas sat beside Silvren, holding her cold, limp hand within his warm hands. He and Gimli watched as Gandalf removed the crude collar from her neck. As he did, a large lump formed in Legolas’ throat at the sight of the red cuts and abrasions from the collar rubbing against her skin.
“Will she be all right?” Eowyn asked, a look of sadness in her blue eyes as she gazed upon the elf.
“I hope.” Gandalf muttered. “Elves are usually quick to recover.” he said as he cleaned the tender skin on and around her neck.
“You should have shot him.” Gimli mumbled.
“That would not have made things any better.” replied Gandalf.
“Why not?” Gimli huffed. “It would have made me feel better.”
“I can not talk about it right now.”
“Fine, keep your secrets.” Gimli said under his breath.
Silvren flinched as the lukewarm water and Athelas dripped into one of the deeper wounds.
“Shh, it’s all right.” Legolas said soothingly as he stroked her hand.
Silvren turned her head to face him, looking up at him with clouded eyes.
“There.” Gandalf breathed.
“What about the spell? Aren’t you going to remove it…or something?” Gimli asked quickly, glancing uncertainly between the frail elf and old wizard.
“I have already done that, Master Dwarf. So, stop your rambling.”
“I need some rest. If you do not mind, there is some salve there on the table. She needs that applied to the wounds every hour, including the scars on her back.” Gandalf said, to which a flicker of horror crossed over Legolas’ face. He hadn’t known about the scars on her back.
“My lord, I shall watch over her if you would like to rest as well.” Eówyn offered.
“Thank you, but I will stay here.” he replied with a small smile.
Eowyn nodded and left the room as Gimli made himself comfortable on a pallet against the wall. He saw no need in denying himself rest when Legolas was occupied with Silvren and there was nothing he could do to help at the moment.
“Legolas,” Silvren whispered as she slowly rolled onto her side facing him. “What’s going to happen?”
“What do you mean?” he asked carefully.
“With me, what is going to happen to me?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not leaving you side, even if Sauron himself comes knocking at this very door.”
“Thank you.” she smiled weakly, trying to grasp his hand tighter but found it difficult to do. Legolas frowned at her failed attempt but tried not to let her see it. He watched as she finallyclosed her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, accompanied by the unpleasant snores that came from behind him.
* * *
“How are you feeling?” Legolas asked when Silvren stirred and her eyes fluttered open.
“Better. Hungry.” she looked up at him.
“Aragorn and the others are expected back this evening.”
“Yes. A feast will be held in the hall.”
“That sounds nice.” Silvren smiled.
“Rest up and Gandalf may let you go.” he leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head.
* * *
Silvren, Legolas, Gimli, and Eanil sat in the large hall, surrounded by the men and women of Edoras as they celebrated their success at Helm’s Deep and Isengard. Silvren was dressed in a light grey gown with tapering sleeves that Eówyn had lent her. The material was soft and warm. A round, gold brooch was pinned in the middle of the neckline, elegantly engraved with various swirls and curls.
The three elves and dwarf watched as Eówyn walked up the steps to King Théoden with a gold goblet clasped within her hands. Her long hair was pulled back from her face – much like Silvren’s – and hung down her back. Bowing, she offered the goblet to Théoden who took it with both hands. He then looked out at the crowd as Eówyn took her place behind the king. He raised the goblet in the air and everyone stood to their feet.
“Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country.” Théoden started, his voice projecting throughout the hall. “Hail the victorious dead.”
“Hail!” shouted the crowd.
* * *
“Legolas, please don’t do it. I don’t want to sleep next to a drunk.” Silvren pleaded as she sat on a stool by a pillar where they had eaten. Nearby, some of the men were serving ale and Gimli was waiting for Legolas to join him.
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Besides, the wine in Mirkwood is much stronger.” He winked and gently patted her on the face before walking over to the table where Gimli was waiting for him.
“As if you didn’t already know, he’s very stubborn.” Míriel said as she walked up to Silvren.
“That makes two of us then.” Silvren smiled.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. Legolas won’t let me go far without anyone going with me.” She rolled her eyes.
“You’re telling me. I have to live with him. I can’t wait for the day he marries; then he can finally leave me alone.” Míriel laughed. Both girls fell silent as they turned their attention upon the drinking table. Silvren was watching Legolas whereas Míriel’s eyes fell upon Eómer.
* * *
“No pauses. No spills.” Eómer said while handing Legolas a mug of ale.
“And no regurgitation.” Gimli added as he eyed up his mug that was full to the rim with foaming ale.
“So it’s a drinking game?” Legolas asked turning to face Gimli.
“Last one standing wins.” Gimli looked up at the elf and chuckled. Legolas looked down at his mug then at the men standing around him, a nervous expression on his face.
“What’ll we drink to?” someone shouted from another part of the room.
“We drink to victory!” another shouted as Legolas slowly began to drink the ale, his brow furrowed as the strong, bitter tasting ale touched his tongue.
* * *
Legolas and Gimli kept emptying mug after mug; a pile of mugs continued to build up on the table as Eómer kept filling up more. Eómer handed Gimli another mug then turned back to fill another but took a double take at the sound of Gimli expelling air. The dwarf laughed as he sat back down, foam from the ale clung to his beard.
“Here, here.” he muttered as he reached up and took another mug as Legolas finished off another one as well.
“It’s the dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women.” Gimli said drunkenly then belched and started drinking from another mug.
“I feel something.” Legolas said, rubbing his fingers together; Eómer’s arm resting on the barrel of ale, furrowing his brow at Legolas’ remark.
“A slight tingle in my fingers.” Legolas breathed, examining his fingers. “I think it’s beginning to affect me.” He muttered, turning to face the drunk dwarf.
“What did I say?” Gimli said raising his finger in the air after slamming his mug down on the table. “The boy can’t hold his liquor.” He muttered, his eyes crossing with foam stuck to his nose and beard.
Gimli sat there then fell over backwards, falling off his stool in a faint. Legolas looked down at him and then over to Eómer; a look of mild surprise on his face. “Game over.”
* * *
Silvren was feeling more comfortable this time as she sat amongst the people of Edoras. Not as many eyes were upon her and the ones that were, were busy looking at the cuts and bruises on her neck. She was busy watching Merry and Pippin dance on top of a wooden table, singing while onlookers clapped their hands to the hobbit’s rhythm. Her eyes caught sight of Eanil, to whom she nodded in acknowledgement. He smiled and raised his mug to her, then turned back to watching the amusing hobbits.
Silvren turned her gaze away from the dancing hobbits to see Eómer standing next to her, bowing his head in respect.
“My, lord.” Silvren returned, bowing her head as well.
“I apologize for not meeting you earlier, but I’m sure you understand.”
“I understand completely.”
“I trust you are feeling well? I heard my sister was helping tend to you.”
“I am and you heard correctly.”
“I apologize for not rescuing you and your friends when you were captured by the Urks.”
“I don’t understand?” Silvren cocked her head to the side in confusion.
“I led the riders still loyal to the king and hunted down the Urks but we saw no sign of you or the Halflings.”
“You are a brave man, Eómer. You gave us the chance to escape. There is no need to apologize.” She smiled.
“Thank you for the compliment, my lady.” Eómer glanced to the side and locked eyes with Míriel, who had been watching them. He turned back to Silvren with a small bow, “It was a pleasure to meet you, my lady.” He said then walked over to Míriel.