Flare in the Darkness: Holwena Talnrë of Rothalon

Chapter Two: Separations

The Serndol-Phar, the palace and fortress of the city, was built as a tall, proud tower, round and smooth and tapering ever gradually towards the top, which soared a glorious two hundred feet above the other lowly buildings. Its outer wall was likewise round, six feet in width and seven times the height of a man. As it circled toward the front its sides swept down to converge just over the gate itself. Now, on the walkway that ran along its inner surface, two girls stood and watched the line of horsemen trot beneath the portcullis and away down the broad road towards the north, and the black shadow of the mountains.

"So he leaves us again," murmured Holwena wistfully, her gaze following the armoured figure at their head as she lifted a hand in farewell.

"What is it, Holwena?" asked Gleda beside her with a curious look. She had known her sister long enough to see when something was disturbing her.

"I do not know," answered Holwena quietly. Her hand fell to her side and she stared down over the wall to the ground below. "I fear for him."

"Fear? Is it more than a fear of his death in battle, then?" Gleda sought her sister's eyes and held them persistently.

"Maybe." Holwena said the word softly, undecidedly, and looked away.

Stillness lingered.

"Holwena, do you not ever tire of being a princess?" Gleda asked suddenly.

Holwena turned her head and looked at her in surprise, and even puzzlement. "No, sister."

"I do." Gleda looked over at the rough hills in the south, a longing all at once revealed in her lovely hazel-green eyes. "I want to run over green hills, to lie in the new grass and sing and smile – to leave this behind –" she tugged at the netted circlet binding back the bright ringlets that cascaded over her shoulders – "and live, and laugh... to not be royalty any longer, but a simple, merry maid. Like Marega was."

Holwena regarded her, brows puckered together thoughtfully above her dark and earnest eyes. "Taerileca," she said, and put her arm in Gleda's.

They walked together up the sloping stone, the wind ruffling their garments as it did the red standard above the warriors who galloped into the north.

~

It was noon, and the family of the king dining in a small, private hall. Their companionable silence was interrupted as the door opened and a man entered with a sealed parchment in his hand. "'Tis for you, my lord," he said, extending it as he approached the board.

Haldorin King stood. "From the battle front?" he questioned tensely.

"Nay, from the Lord Barin in the south."

"Ah," the king murmured. His features relaxed, and he met his wife's eyes across the table with a smile. Accepting the letter, he dismissed the servant with a nod and broke the seal to read its few lines.

"He accepts, Maera," he said; she acknowledged his words with a nod.

Haldorin turned to the girls. "Gleda, marhona, this is your cithar-edel."

Gleda gasped and stared from him to Maera, her eyes wide. Slowly a flush of excitement bloomed on her cheeks. "Truly! Oh, Marega! Where is it? What is he like? And when shall I leave?"

Maera laughed with joy at her daughter's happiness. "Now, Haldorin," she said, turning to him with dancing wit, "are you not glad we did not do Holwena's?"

"I fail to see your meaning, my wife," he returned gravely. "You know Holwena shall be betrothed most probably to someone she has known all her life, and therefore there is no reason to hold the cithar-edel so early on."